

A ConfessionA ConfessionA Confession
The many candles lit the interior of the church with irregular, shifting light. For each flame were quivering shadows, constantly moving patches of darkness stretching the length of the church. With all the pews vacant and the only human forms around being the images of Christ and the saints in the stained glass windows, the Church of St. Alphonsus was somewhat of a spooky place. But to Father Martin, it was merely a Tuesday night.
The church had been losing parishioners for years, but these days the place seemed as empty as a tomb except on Fridays and Sundays. People still came on Christmas and
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