Barrage

The pews were emptying as evening Mass drew to a close, but still I lingered in the shadows of the confessional. My thoughts, as ever, were not with God but with her - my sweet lamb, whose smile outshone even the glow of stained glass.

From the first moment I saw her kneeling so devoutly, a forbidden flutter stirred in my breast, one that has grown each week as our whispered confessions grew more intimate. Oh, the transgressions I yearn to commit just to feel her lips upon my own...

I know it is a sacrilege, this craving of the flesh. As a man of the cloth I have forsaken such earthly desires, and yet she awakens a fire I lack the strength to dampen. Each glimpse of shining hair, each melodic laugh that echoes in the nave, chips relentlessly at the walls around my soul till they threaten to crumble.

What is a poor priest to do, with an angel's love alone what stands between him and perdition? If only she knew the effect she holds, perhaps sweet mercy would persuade her to my cause...

No, I must resist this wickedness. But God help me, when her footsteps sound upon the threshold once more, I know not if I possess the power to turn her away.