(Page 2 of 2)
No one could make up the things he told me.
Actually he did not intend to come to church but he had difficulties sleeping lately. He couldn't fall asleep nights on end. And when, finally, he managed to fall asleep he had nightmares. His numerous victims rose from the dead and haunted him. When he woke up his sheet were torn and his face wet with sweat and tears.
"I went to a psychologist, father."
"Obviously he didn't help, son."
"He kept asking me what I did for a living, father.I lied to him but he was clever and didn't believe me. He wanted to know what my real profession was. He made me do different tests. RFM-tests, experimental electric rhythmo-dream and what not. One day he was waiting for me in his office with a court order for forced getting into a mental hospital and two policemen.
"Maybe God wanted you to be treated."
He interrupted me in a firm tone: "I am not crazy, father. I managed to escape, and then..."
Something in his voice made me grab the cross hanging on my chest. I held the Bible in the other hand. "What happened to the psychologist, son?"
"One night I went back for him..."
Both of us kept silent for a moment. I was shocked of what I had heard and was thinking about it, and he was probably taking breath after the long talking.
After that he said: "I know that my sins can't be expiated, father.
But I have heard that you make people with more trivial faults to repeat a couple of times a day Ave Maria or Our Father. And if you impose such a punishment on me, father, I am sure that it will help me."
"The confession is over, son," said I adamantly.
I slid aside the netlike window and repeated: "The confession is over, forever !!!"
I opened the hollow Bible, took the 38-calibre out of it and shot him in the head.
I locked the church hurriedly. There are such cases sometimes. I have to judge some people. I have to be their Prosecutor, Judge and Executioner all at the same time.
The ones like him have no right to use a lawyer.
I will bury him in the nearby cemetery after midnight.I think that the inhabitants of our small town would lynch me, if they found out how many people I have Judged and buried late at night.
I pray for their immortal souls.
-- Radi Radev