Short Essay Draft #2

 I remember standing in line, the blood red velvet curtain draped over the confessional like in a gothic Vincent Price horror film. What is behind that curtain anyway? A rehearsal of confessions raced through my little mind. I must be prepared. What crimes could they possible think a seven year old committed anyway that needed to be confessed to the Great and Powerful Oz behind the curtain? "I fight with my sister, I talked back to my parents, I told a lie..." Were these the kinds of sins that needed to be washed away from the world? Catch them while their young mentality? Whispers ensued each time a little body emerged from the other side of the heavy curtain. We searched for signs to see if that child looked any different from before he went in and the priest performed his magic. Were there halos above his head? Did he sprout wings? Or horns?

The line lessened and I knew my turn was coming soon. I counted my lucky stars that at least I didn't end up like some of the other poor saps who had to do the face to face confessions. We heard one of those kids actually peed his pants. I'll take my chances with Oz. Besides, when this is all over I make my Communion and wear a pretty dress and finally taste the wafer. I think this as my best friend gets ready to go. Wide eyes full of terror, she turns and gives me one last look. I mouth, "good luck," and she disappears. A few minutes later she escapes. I want her to make eye contact with me so badly, give me a sign, tell me something, but she doesn't. She heads straight to the pew, head down, and prays.

The nun gives me a little push when she realizes I"m not moving. I lift the lead curtain. It is dark. Pitch as night. My heart beat races. It really does feel like a Vincent Price movie. I listen for a raven or a heart beat from under the floor boards. Dark wood encompasses me. I feel claustrophobic. There is one small flickering candle on the wall, I don't think it is real. I somehow find the courage to kneel down on the on kneeler knowing that when I do someone will open the wall divider and I will have to speak to the person on the other side. And it does. The face looks distorted from the divider, but I can recognize the priest from church. "Yes my child." And I do it. I say my rehearsed speech that my CCD teacher prepared and I ramble off my list of "sins." I kneeled there waiting for a scolding, a lecture, but all he said was, "Say two Hail Marys and one Our Father. Go in peace."

The divider gently closes, I smirk, and rise, bow my head, turn my smirk into a look of serenity and walk out from behind the massive curtain. Searching eyes are on my back, the kids waiting to go in, suckers. I kneel down, say my prayers and go sit with my friend. We nudge each other and giggle. Will it always be this easy?