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Chocolate Sins

There is nothing like sin,
Unless we think it is.


"Knock. Knock. Knock" – silent, dull sound crossed the murky space of the confessional.

The Church of the Virgin Mother was filled with dozens of worshipers and spectators. Some of them were sitting on the benches, praying and asking for forgiveness or for other, different things, the rest were waiting in the lines to confess their sins. There were some tourists wandering around taking pictures of the ancient Catholic treasure.

"Knock. Knock," repeated priest Philip, moving nervously. Next he bent towards the small window, covered with wooden bars that was in the wall dividing us.

"Shall we begin?" He asked quietly, hiding his uneasiness.

Silence. A lot of silence - as it should be in the church… but not at this moment.

"YHrrm…"
"YHrrm," priest cleared his throat again and asked, "What is your name?"
"Aeypit," he heard in reply.
"Yhrrm. Excuse me?" He again asked in confusion, "Aren’t you the school principal's grandson?"
"Oeee," a high and immature sound traveled from my stomach to my mouth and out. I had a feeling of wanting to collapse under the ground  after being recognized.

"And your name isss ….?" Philip left his voice hanging and started the waiting period, waving his finger in the air…. but looks like it was already too much, and so, he  cut it short and asked decisively, a bit louder, "What is your name ?"

"Peeaa Yhrm," he heard in reply.
.
"OK Peter." He cleared the air finally and was already speaking in his regular tone and volume,"You are 9 years old, living with your grandmother. I know you and your family very well. I need you to confess now or to come back  later."  He was ready to finish the whole thing…

"I have it all on the paper," I said, breaking his train of thoughts.

"You mean, your sins ?" He asked while he was calming down and repositioning himself comfortably in his chair, saying,"OK, read it."

I was already protectively holding the folded piece of paper. I opened it…  But it was dark and my hand writing was always terrible. I was lost and couldn't focus. I was in shakes. The letters were jumping all over the paper. Nervous blinders were on and off periodically. Yeah. All the ingredients for total disaster were there.  I started reading and he started fishing for my words.

"I was… Woas...,"I started my journey through the hell with words. "I was haaav... I wassss yyyy ex. I wasssss ex."

"What?" Priest stopped me. "So early!" he jumped at me. "That is a big sin, my son. Shame on you.  How old was she?"

"No, noo." I started from different venue, suddenly remembering the whole story. It was with my friend Chris and I…"

"What I ?" The priest began rubbing his forehead. "That is even worst," he added. "That kind of love is not permitted in the church at all…"

"Noooo. I hate the guy," I crashed again into his sentence.

"What? Why then …? " He lost it. I am quite sure he deeply regretted being a Shepherd at that moment.

"No, this Chris is bullying me all the time, Sir," I began with my explanation. "He runs after me at school throughout the day calling me dirty fox… because of my red hair. He is giving me a really hard time. I can’t stand him. I was having a short break at school. At that time, I was so called "Expert " . You know, once a week, a new student is left in the class during the break to make sure if nothing is stolen or broken. I went into this jerk's note book, spit inside and wrote on the cover - Stupid, damn ***.

"Oouu," said the priest. "And?"

"Nothing." I answered. "I was afraid," I continued, "that he would figure it out and would beat me up. So, I cleaned everything before the end of the break."

"OK," said the priest. "What else?"

I rushed back to my paper and started reading.

"I eeeee  masss eeee mass, mass," I stuttered and next I apologized."No, sorry I will start again. I masss tu yyyy mastu  tur tur."

"Listen," he gave up."Forget about the paper," he demanded.

"Oooo OK, I got it." I said happily, interrupting him again, and started to go from my memory.

"I skipped the mass too, trying to help my grandma. We had the harvest last week and all of us were working in the garden and…"

"Can you just forget the paper and tell me what do you remember?" Philips drawled out of his teeth.

"But all my sins are here…," I tried to explain while I was starting to get scared.

"Forget. About. The. Paper," The priest hit me with words like a church bell.

I was kneeling there with my hands lowered trying to understand. Silence covered evenly every inch of the temple. It took quite a few seconds until I heard his relaxed and sweet voice again.

"Just tell me all that you remember, please. Just that's it and all will be OK," said  priest Philip.

"There is one thing," I said after awhile.

"Good. What is that?" He whispered, almost singingly.

"I feel the pain, Sir," I said. "It is like a burning sensation inside my chest," I was explaining. "It is difficult to breathe when I think about that. I feel like a bad person. It is tough to live…"

"Yes, I understand. But whaaat?" He was almost starting to beg me.

"My grandma buys chocolate bars for me once in a month," I rolled  with my story. "20 bars with raisins and nuts. She hides them in the kitchen cupboard. I know exactly where. 2 weeks ago, I went there and ate all of them."

"Half a kilogram?" He asked with a surprise.

"Yes. In one shot," I replied.

"And?" He asked.

"Not much," I answered. "I was throwing up the whole day and she was laughing and laughing. She said she knew that I knew and that it was for me anyways. She was only amazed how I could fit them all in my stomach. She bought the same again the next day. It is there waiting but I promised to myself…"

"You know what," he interrupted me.  There is a long line up here with people who have much bigger problems. Those are not sins…or not that kind of sins…

"But I was greedy and I feel guilty," I announced desperately.
"Not sins. OK. Next time drink  a lot's of milk. That is what my mother taught me," he closed me.   

"Knock. Knock."

Next.
 
PS :-
I buried the paper with my sins in the ground so that nobody would be able to find out my weaknesses. Later I found out was that the best way to hide them, was to eat the whole thing. I guess, I could burn them as well. But I didn't do that and I don’t know why.


                              
                     
Bolek Bolek 41-45, M 29 Responses Oct 21, 2012

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Another great piece of writing from you,Peter.I read it twice.

Wow. Thank you.

Wonderful and entertaining!

Thank you.
I hope we can talk more shortly.

very interesting story. I used to confess my sins to a priest but it didn't seem to do any good. Besides I could never remember the exact number of times I committed any of them. lol

Thank you for reading me and your comment.
Yea. What we can do we are not perfect.

you may not be perfect, but you are fun

Thank you. You are very kind.
I am glad to have you as a friend.

beautifull story

Thank you.

Wow, this takes me back to the time when I was young and so deathly afraid of going to confession ..I didn't reveal all of my sins, I was too nervous.....But, .I thought that I had covered all of my bases by telling him at the end " and Father I lied." :)

Great story.!.....Chocolate and milk.......I love it.!!!

Smart. Thank you for sharing nice technique of let it go.
I love it too.
Thank you again.

those are the innocent sins.

Yes. I hope you will forgive me.

oh you have done nothing! dont have to ask for forgiveness dear!

Thank you Sweet Heart.

I enjoy this !!!! I really do, this is good story both bring curiosness, funny, and ughhh I can feel how un patience the priest was lol so do I!! adorable

indeed what a trivial things worthwhile for others :)

Yea. You have a beautiful mind. It shows when you write.

I loved it!!!.....LOL

Amazing.

Very nicely done, my friend. I've never been rebuked by a priest like that but then again maybe I should have been. :) Thanks for sharing this with us. Hugs to you my friend.

I guess you have never been in Poland.
Thank you.

whoa. :)

I guess. You mean you like it.
Thanks.

great story! it reminded me of Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man!

Hm. James Joyce's and Ulysses one of the most difficult to read and one of the most fascinating one. You have amazing taste and compering me to him is just beyond words. Thank you kindly.

I like your writing but my comparison was more about subject matter

I see. Thanks any way.

nice story. :)

This story just reminds me why i hated confession

OK.

It's okay, but I have enjoyed the previous story I read about that man turning in2 a woman at nights since it got me thinking. This one wasn't as shock or twisted. Hope u write another shocking story soon. I see boobs!!!

Where do you see them ? You are a killer !!!

Well written piece, i enjoyed that very much

I am very glad about that.
Thank you.

What is left in my mind is weet temptations.. =:0) lifes pleasure..
Wonderful story

That sounds about good. Thanks.

Giggles!!! This story was so adorable, Peter. It says a lot about a little boy and his guilt. smiles***

Yes. I love chocolate - such a beautiful color and have such a sweet taste.

Chocolate has it's rewards and guilty pleasures tied to it. smiles***

Guilty pleasure are the best. You know that. That is way you want to be good g....

Bravo!

Short but sweet.

I was amused with this story. It was light yet meaningful. Great work again, Peter! :)

As always is so much love in you. It is great feeling to have you around.

i like it soooooo much i left my studying just to read it

And that is the best what writer can hear from the writer.

As always, a good read. I love your stories, keep them coming PLEASE <3

I WILL.
Thanks.

the dialogue with the preist was very intriguing kept my attention as a good story should. Can't wait to read some more of your work.

Just working on another one.

wow, another wonderful story, it captured me from the moment i started to read, thank you so much xx

Amazing.

Sins written but not read, for the listener was no more anonymous..he didn't give much credit to the budding sinner..he the priest..has sinned for turning a deaf ear to a young man..who wrote all his sins and was ready to share, did dare to read it out..but the Priest..he didn't care to do his work of relieving the anguish , no matter how small or not..but he left where he should have started. To make the young mind, stay fresh and not wait for it to get clouded and corrupted..I found the theme very strong..The repeated trials of a young boy to confess and the uneasiness from the very man, who is suppose to share and life his guilt..
SInner is not the young boy but the priest indeed...

Priest yeee...I wouldn't be so hard on him. Usually it takes 5 to 10 minutes to confess and I spend there like half an hour. I wish just my hand writing could be better than would be no sins what so ever.

ah! you let go off too easy..

Well ..There is a reason behind the name of the priest.
I was looking for the right sound and something to lift heaviness of the situation in which priest was put in. I was thinking about somebody who could feel .... now we have the first sound "feel"...somebody who could feel like - understand the other side deeply and at the same moment, be wise enough to preach and stand by long tradition along with being sensitive enough towards the person who was confessing. Then again, I had "feel" and I was looking for wisdom - the sound of wisdom.

As we know, that one of the definitions of philosophy and phonetics is - phi·los·o·phy (f -l s -f ) Love and pursuit of wisdom by intellectual means and moral self-discipline. Then again, I had a sound " fee"and "phi" which could give me the appropriate name. I came up with 'Philip', even if I knew that its derivative meaning is completely different and I should instead look for something alike Sophia but then - it was a feminine name and on the other side, I didn't want to be so primitively direct.

Finally, I agreed with myself and felt comfortable with the name Philip which meant ~~ 'feel' and 'philosophia' to me and all these other qualities that I mentioned above which I confronted as a young and growing Christian. All these qualities were modified and practiced by my Catholic teachers and were present all around me as well as within me. I grew while receiving their unconditional love, compassion and wisdom. Due to them, I am who I am today. I wouldn't have been a good Buddhist if I didn't had a chance to be raised by them. Then, as you see, I prefer to let it go than argue about it and that was what they taught me. ~~~ Wisdom.

And in the end, Philip gave me an amazing compassionate tip revealing himself to be a child to the core who is still a child inside his mind. And as it is said," All those who remain to be a child in mind will have a place in heaven." In spite of about 2000 years old tradition, he was able to perform acts of kindness by going out of the box ( and that kind of acts made every tradition alive ) and told me that he was the same - alike a child and so, no need to be worried and if you would fail again like any of us ~ just don't suffer any more. Drink milk. ~~~ Milk that comes from affectionate mother's breasts. That is why, we have a symbolic picture of breasts. It might look explicit and sinful but for the pure mind of child, breasts are all what makes any child alive in the beginning of his journey on this planet. Child or any infant doesn't see breasts as any form of sin at all.

Hmmm - a great tip which is still working. I drink tons of milk every day and I am doing great.
Thank you for asking.

thank you :)
Feeling the philosophy of life, that taught with wisdom for you to be, as true and wise ..learned too :)) with words that feel real, and the real feelings that word gives to meanings. And I feel compassion as an underlying theme..I think..child is only small in size..but not in mind..yes...level of knowledge is less but power..in uderstanding is starkly more clear than adults..

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*smiling*

Love it.

Wow beautifully written.

Thank you.

Aaah! when will i write......the sample of ur thoughts with no materialistic object.....only reality..............welldone peter...................best of luck for the further...........

"Where is no object there is no subject there are no thoughts as we know now (being describe by object and subject all the time). No subject - No object - thoughts are appearing and dissolving spontaneously in great space of "suchness". Thoughts are appearing and dissolving spontaneously being recognize like pure illusions and because of that they have no rights to exist. There is no follow up and no any creation at that point which is always based on thoughts and tradition of building on them. No attachment - how it could be to something what has no existence and is already gone. There is no build up and no expectations. There is no attachment to them and everything what comes next. There is no "Ego" which is build and based on those illusions. There is no attachment and finally no suffering. You are free."

Very nice I remember confession very well. Peace to you

I see. Peace to you too.

The anguish of youth:)