Failed Confessional

The Devil sighed.

He really ought to know better. This happened every time. He sighed again. Not loud. Not dramatically. Just heavily.

There was no way for him to get absolution. He was too evil. He had done too much. His long list of sins were too long and, after he left confession, he would wrack up even more sins than he could get a priest to absolve him of in a single session. At best, he'd just slow the rate of sinning, reduce the burden, not end it.

He stood up and the smoky darkness wafted down from his coat. It dimmed but did not obscure. It enticed despite its evilness. It seduced and tempted those into doing the forbidden. There was no hiding from the evil he embodied. Those that claimed otherwise were sinning in their own way: they were lying to themselves and others.

He opened the door and stepped out. The church dimmed. He expected to burst into flame every time he came for confession, but never did. At times, he wished he did. It would be so much easier for it all to be over. For the eternity to be gone in a flaming, blinding moment of His divine wrath. No such luck. No such release. Was the Heavenly Father merciful by not destroying him? Or was it part and parcel of his Divine Judgment.

Lucifer hardly knew anymore. It had been too long since he'd seen the Creator, never mind dealt with His presence.

He grimaced. Should he? It was going to be a mess either way. Should he look? He might delight in it. He had several times. It only added to the burden of sins he carried. But what was that? It was such a minor thing in the massive burden of his doomed existence. It'd just be a minor, small thrill. What could that really hurt? He was doomed anyways. Why not?

He turned and looked into the priest's side of the confessional. He snorted and smirked. Like always.

The priest had killed himself. He could not handle hearing the pure, rolling meltdown of Satan's sins. He had overwhelmed him, choked him, strangled his very soul and, in the end, forced his own hand against him...destroying him.

Lucifer ought to feel remorse for killing the priest. Well, for melting down the priest until he kill himself. He supposed it was really the priest's fault. He'd decided to kill himself. Not Satan. He'd never actually wanted to kill the man. He just wanted to unburden his soul and seek salvation.

Well, he was damning himself further. He was gloating over this weak thing dying. This pathetic thing that is man. So twisted in form. So pitiful in nature. How unlike God. And Lucifer knew God.

He turned and whistled as he walked away and his smoky darkness followed.