The flock left the church after another mass, the bells rang signalling 9AM. It was Sunday morning in the small town of North Jefferson. The city was located in a remote area, somewhere in the bible belt. And as such, the citizens (model christians that they were) all attend the weekly celebrations. The Priest, Father Jacob Falon, stood by the entrance of the church shaking hands and blessing those who left, like a politician at a committee. By the altar, a tall nun with a dark, chocolate skin cleaned up all the ritualistic equipment. The chalice, the wine, the altar cloth. She smiled and nodded to some of the front seaters as they left, nodding and whispering at her with respect. "Thank you, sister".
That nun was Kristanna Morgan, mostly known as Sister Morgan. She had been sent to serve and assist Father Falon at North Jefferson's catholic church. She came from a nearby convent. More accurately, a school only for girls called Camp of Blessing. And this was all the extent of Falon and his congregation's knowledge of Kristanna. That was precisely how she would like it stay, at least for now.
With the mass over, the real fun for Kristanna was about to begin. And today Priest Falon had really laid it hard on the "guilt" theme. He talked about redemption, confession, "unburdening oneself of the weight of sin", as he so eloquently put. Sister Morgan knew that this would hit the buttons of a few of the more guilty ones in the crowd, those naughty sinners they were. A lot of them stayed for confession right after the mass, just like Priest Falon wanted. After all, his control over the faithful came from knowing their secrets, their temptations, their most intimate desires. Little did he know that Kristanna was also drinking from that well.
As each member sat at the confessionary with the priest, Kristanna was on the other side of the wall, listening. Unbeknownst to all, she wasn't just a regular nun. Sister Morgan had some "exotic abilities" that she had uncovered during her time at the Camp of Blessing. Among them were her enhanced senses. She could hear much better than the regular person if she focused, so listening to the confessions from the next room was somewhat of an easy task. Furthermore, she could see people's auras. Not their mood or anything exoteric like that, merely their lust levels. Her vision was powerful enough to see through the thin wall, have an idea of what was truly in the hearts of those confessing. While they varied in color and brightness depending on how much lust was accumulated, each aura had its unique markings or patterns. In practice, that meant Kristanna could easily tell who sat at the confessionary through the wall, even if she couldn't exactly differentiate some of their voices. She also knew if they were horny, always a useful bit of information.
Most of the confessions were uninteresting to the nun. Boring people, with even more boring stories. Kristanna wasn't just listening randomly, she had a specific target in mind. After months of talking to the locals and getting to know the flock, she had settled on the perfect person. Which is why she was thrilled when she heard the female voice and confirmed the aura of Mrs. Margaret Gregson entering the confessionary. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned."
Kristanna adjusted her posture on the room next door. Margaret was the forty-five year-old widow of Mark Gregson, a powerful real-estate titan in the country. He used to own most of the property in North Jefferson, along with a lot more. After his untimely death from a heart attack three years ago, his wife Margaret had inherited everything. A lonely, middle aged widow. Living in a small town, where everyone competed about everything and cared so much about each other's lives, their reputation and status. And to help, the woman had a deeply conservative christian background. Who could know what regrets Margaret had? The amount of denial, repression and self-censoring going on in that mind of hers could be astronomical! Something useful would present itself in time.
So Kristanna listened carefully as the conversation continued in the confessionary. "What weights in your heart, Margaret?", inquired Priest Falon.
There was some silence, the woman replied hesitantly, "Before I even say anything, I need your word that nothing leaves this confessionary, Father Falon!"
The priest took a deep breath, it was clear the woman was so nervous and distressed that her mind was compensating it with anger and paranoia. "Margaret, you've been confessing in this church with me since you moved here. When was that? Four years ago? I went to college with your husband. Unless someone's life is in danger you know you can trust me. But better yet, trust the peace of the Lord and his mercy. Calm your heart and tell me what's troubling you this much."
Margaret still hesitated, she stuttered, began a word but then cut it midway. Until she finally took a deep breath, closed her eyes and just decided to shoot it out; somehow making her whisper sound like a shout, "Ok, alright... I have feelings for my neighbor and she's a woman!"
Through the fence in the confessionary Margaret could see a deep breath and a nod. Inside the priest was relieved no one had died, maybe the excessive amount of setup had misled him, "Very well. It is natural to be confused about your sexuality. You lost the love of your life tragically while you were still young and... healthy and... "
The father was interrupted, "No... no, that's the problem. I'm not confused, father! T-the truth is..." Margaret leaned in even closer to the small fence dividing them in the confessionary, "I never really liked men... me and Mark hadn't had sex in year before his passing, I just couldn't stomach it anymore. Especially after we had Vanessa. I... I did my obligation as his wife, I gave him a child! But I never really enjoyed our time together... sexually that is.
There was a moment of silence, Margaret was struggling to get it all out. Falon calmly waited, giving her time to find the words and be fully honest, "And I've lived with it, you know. All these years I feel like I've endured all and any temptations. I lived like a proper, devout christian woman... but now, this neighbor... God I don't even know her name. Can you believe this? I can't talk to her! I just... turn away and run when she approaches! She is... she is temptation incarnate! I see her every day, I try to avoid it, but it's like I keep running into her! And having all these... thoughts! I think the Lord is testing me, father!"
The priest listened to it all, he took a few seconds to absorb, responding to the emotionally charged woman with the most serene tone he could muster, "I understand, Margaret. But remember, the Lord does not give us crosses we cannot carry."
Margaret rolled her eyes and shook her head, whispering back in the confessionary, "How can you possibly understand, father Falon? You're a man, and you're a holy man, even! You don't struggle with the things normal people do!"
On the other side of the wall Kristanna covered her mouth so she wouldn't laugh too loud. In her humble experience the "holy ones" were the ones that struggled the most. She focused on listening again, Margaret seemed to have lost hope for some clarity, "I... maybe I shouldn't have brought this up. This was a mistake."
Father Falon saw as Margaret began to stand up, quickly he raised his hand, "Margaret, please stay! You did the right thing coming to me. Look... maybe you are correct." Margaret stopped as the priest acknowledge her point, she sat back to listen, her body turned to the side, ready to leave at any moment. "Maybe I am not the best to talk to you about this. Why don't you talk to Sister Morgan? She is a young woman, she has been in the convent for a while and I am sure she struggled with similar issues. Maybe she can give you the clarity you need?"
