I Really Hope There is a Hell

If for no other reason than to have a bad place to end up for breaking man and God’s Law so those of us who do play by the rules won’t feel cheated.

My list is succinct and 100% accurate.

And if you haven’t figured it out yet, I am totally full of shit.

But I have a great time doing it.

Check out this short-short story I wrote on 9/11:

Broken Light Bulb

Gina parked her car in the first row of spaces near the church entrance. It was an hour and a half until mass began, but she arrived early to confess her weekly sins. If ever she needed to go to confession, this was the week. She dipped her fingers into the holy water, made the sign of the cross, and then made her way to the confessional. Her low-heels clicked on the grey stone floor as she walked.               


          She sat in a pew near the confessional compartments, pulled down the knee-rest, and began praying. She clutched her gold crucifix necklace tightly and silently mouthed her prayers of contrition. There were three others in line before her, but she needed the extra time anyway.

It had been that kind of week.

          Both outside vestibules emptied at the same time. Gina saw it was a mother clutching her rosary with white knuckles. Her little girl, about the same size and age as Gina’s nephew, stomped her shoes petulantly. The mother was mouthing her silent prayers while steering her daughter to the rows of candles, both lit and unlit. She slid two folded dollar bills into a slot, lit two candles, and knelt before the religious statue.

          “Pray for Daddy baby,” she instructed as her little girl lowered her head, asking for divine help in making Daddy better.

          Gina entered the confessional and knelt; the priest obscured by the lattice window.

The sins began flowing: Bless me Heavenly Father for I have sinned. This is so hard to say. I was unfaithful to my spouse and had sex with several men…I stole money from one of the collection baskets…I drank alcohol to excess and I sold cocaine to my daughters’ junior high school classmates….I improperly touched a young boy—my nephew.

Dead quiet.

After what seemed like hours, Gina broke the silence.


“Is there someone there? Yes child?”

“Father, Why are you telling me this? I thought I was supposed to confess to you.”

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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