Confessions

Door closes on the other side, soft rustling as a person sits down. Seconds later the portal to the other side slides open. I speak first, no greeting, no formality.

"Forgive me, Father for I have sinned." It is more a statement than real repentence. I have this...deep...dark...desire...to tell someone my deeds. Who better than a catholic priest? Let him struggle with the guilt of what I do.

I stifle a laugh, as he begins his ritual, much like I do mine. I think back quickly to every Friday night, how I meticulously shave every strand of hair off my body. Feel the razor gliding over my skin, cutting the hair away...leaving me clean. The soft smooth feel, as I run my hands over the freshly shaved areas. Exhilarating!

Drawn back by the priests final words, what they were I know not...nor even care to tell the truth. I clear my throat before I begin. Feels good to actually tell someone, even though I do it to brag.

"I have," I pause a few seconds for effect, was never much of an actor, a liar yes, actor...no, but then again is acting not a lie? Yes it is...that makes me actually a great actor...so far. "Killed."

I leave it hanging for a few moments longer. I can hear him shift uncomfortably, senses his mulling it over...what I have just said. If he is deeply shocked, he will be more so when I continue. Inwardly I roar with laughter. This is going to be...fun, for lack of a better word.

"Was it an accident?" He begins. You can hear the hope in his voice, already he is showing signs of trepidation. I am going to enjoy this. I begin to describe my wicked ways. If I do this well, his dreams will be filled with nightmares, nightmares of me and my deeds.

Do not get me wrong, I do know that what I do is wrong. I should not be doing it and could stop at any moment, but I love what I do. It feeds me! It fills the time between doing nothing and doing something. Monday to Friday, I am an average Joe, eight till five, collect my paycheck. Friday night is ritual night, the cleansing of my body and mind in preparation for the day after.

I answer the priest, "No."

I let it hang in the air, like a rancid fart for him to savour. Feed him little tidbits for him to taste, before I feed him everything. The power I feel now is almost as good as I seek my prey. Saturday nights, the nights, people let the weeks stress out by dancing, drinking and eventual whoring around. There is no other word for picking up men or woman, you do not even know, just to have sex with them once. I shake my head once, how many of those I killed, would actually be sitting where I am now, confessing to their sinful sexual escapades?

None...is probably the answer. All I do is help them go to hell where they belong. Stop them from making others sin like them. I am almost like this priest, he helps people get to heavan, as I said before, I help them go to hell. Always two sides to a coin.

"I have killed twelve woman so far," I pause for effect, "two still have to be discovered."

I let him do the maths, come to the conclusion himself. I was...am still obviously...the Saturday Night Killer. I know...pathetic! You would think they would come up with something original...well I wish they would, anyway. I waited till he finally put two and two together. I smiled so broad, my face muscles hurt, when he did.

"You are the Saturday Night Killer!" He gasped, I know the name sucks, but hearing it, made me feel all warm inside, just like when I slowly cut those morally challenged woman. Sent them to the abyss of eternal fire, I did!

So easy to pick them up, all of them looking for that man, who would give them the attention they so craved and be drop dead gorgeous, with a magnificent body. Yip, I aim to please, everything they want, I am that man, barring the homicidal tendencies, that is. Saturday night is when I hit the clubs and seek out that nights vixen.

I continue to confess how I go about business, how I kill them and then go home to my girlfriend. I go into grissly detail, details not even the press know about. Details that only the police have knowledge of, some of it only speculation at present. I know I should not be enjoying this so much, but what the hell, I might as well, we don't live forever. It could all end tomorrow, you just never know.

I finish my grizzly tale of torture and murder. I do not even wait to be absolved. Not even God will forgive me for what I have done and will continue doing, till I die. I stand, dust myself off and exit the confessional.

I hear the door to the confesional opening, I turn and let him get a good look at me. I smile my brightest smile, the smile that melts their knees. I look at his pale face, take note of his shaking. What a thrill! He stares awhile longer, his face a mask of sadness. We two could be the masks in a greek play for happiness and sadness.

"You are one sick young man," he stutters. I laugh at him.What is he going to do? He cannot give me in to the pigs, his vow prevents him and if he did...I would kill him slowly...oh so slowly. I turn my back on him and walk out, as I go I hear him utter a profanity. I roar like beast with laughter, a few outside stare at me, as if I am mad. Maybe I am, who knows? I just know his conscience is going to eat him up, how could it not? The pictures I painted of those mutilated bodies, the pleas for me to stop they uttered to me, are now a part of his soon to come nightmares.

It is going to be a beautiful Friday...time to go home and do my ritual. Saturday night is fast approaching, I do not wish to disappoint those lovely ladies out there, counting on me to spice up their lives!

I cannot wait...