The Book of Martin- Absolution and Confession

“You know you want to fight back.” He says as Martin gets to his knees and wipes the blood trailing from his nose and the split in his lip.

“Yuh-huh.” The Reverend says dismissively to the attacker wearing a vicious parody of his face. He releases a cough, reaching into his shirt pocket and removing a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes. He screws the now-bloody death stick between his lips and brings up a shaky hand holding his lighter to light it. This small act of defiance is quickly met with a swift punch to the face, smoke and blood flying out of the mouth of the Reverend.

The attacker looked just like him, wearing a nice suit instead of the Reverend’s common clerical attire. Clean-shaven. Hair slicked back.

“You’ve been avoiding this for some time.” He says.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got a lot of stuff on my plate right now. Sorry I couldn’t pencil you in.” Martin says as he sits back up only to get punched yet again right before his attacker stomps hard on Martin’s lighter on the ground.

“You have to acknowledge it at some point.”

“I really liked that lighter.”

Another punch.

“Acknowledge that I’m here. That I’m real. That I may be even more real than you.” The attacker says.

“You aren’t. We both know HE made you.” Martin says, looking and feeling pretty beat up.

“I was always here, Martin. You know that… and if you can’t admit it, then tell me something else instead. You know exactly where Grace is, don’t you?” The attacker says, raising an eyebrow.

For the first time, Martin does not respond.

“That’s what I thought.”

Another punch finally knocks Martin on his back and he springs up from his bed. He puts his hand to his face. Nothing broken. No blood. He quietly and slowly gets out of bed so as not to disturb his fiancée sleeping next to him. Out the back door, onto the back patio, and almost immediately he has a cigarette lit. He breathes in deep and exhales smoke, attempting to calm the assortment of neuroses that have him feeling more than a little bit like a raw nerve.

And then he feels the hand on the small of his back and it fades away so quickly.

‘La Curandera’ is the first thought he had.

“Padre?”

Even after all this time, Maricela Reyes still calls him ‘Father’ in Spanish -- in relation to his former status as a priest. Though he became a Pastor so he could marry it suits him. She’s wearing a red nightgown that hugs her curves and nothing else, really. Her natural body heat keeps her warm. “Was it him again?”

“The man with my face. Yes. I’m sorry for waking you.” Martin takes another long drag and exhales smoke.

Maricela tries her best to wave the cigarette smoke away from her. No matter the length of time, she’ll never get used to it. She’s actually been trying to get him to quit.

Not cold turkey, of course. Never that.

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” she offers a comforting smile. “And besides, I have an easy time falling back asleep. I have the best snuggle bear.”

“It’s the same as always. He wants me to acknowledge him. Admit that he’s real…” Martin says. He looks at his cigarette. He’s been saying for the past few years that when the world has seemingly gone to Hell, it feels more honest to breathe in smoke than it does air.

It seems her attempt to comfort him a little failed. A frown crosses her face. She places her hands on his shoulders and lightly massages them. “Padre… maybe you should. I know that sounds crazy, but… to acknowledge your fear is the first step to overcoming it.”

“Fear. I used to think I knew what that meant. That it was easy enough to face so long as I had the Lord, you, and Penny on my side… maybe it really is that simple.” Martin says, tension leaving him as he leans into the hands of his beloved.

Maricela keeps up her relaxation technique, her hazel green eyes softening. “Well, facing your fears is never easy. I still remember how… alone and afraid I was when I found out my miscarriage scarred my body.” She can’t help but look down at her stomach.

Her womb.

“It was hard for me to accept the fact that I could no longer be a biological mother. But eventually…” Her hands lightly grab his shoulders as if searching for comfort, herself. “...I overcame my fear. I accepted it. If I can do that…”

Martin puts his cigarette out on the nearby ash tray then turns around in Mari’s embrace and wraps his arms around her tightly, holding her close.

“You’re so strong, Mari. And if you don’t mind, I’m going to take some of that strength. I’ll give it back when I’m done.” Martin says, doing his best to crack something resembling a joke.

A weak yet warm smile crosses the Latina Cosplayer’s face. She rests her head against his chest and takes in his scent. “Whatever you need, mi Amor.”

“I’m gonna check on Penny. She may or may not have convinced me to watch Horror of Dracula with her while you were in the studio earlier.” Martin says before kissing Mari on top of the head.

Of course, Maricela chuckles at this. “So you’re the reason why Penny loves monster movies.”

It makes sense. Martin West was once Martin Karloff: The Phantom and the Manticore. This is how his daughter knew him growing up. Even when he began his priesthood, the change did not deter her love of “BOO, RAWR, SCARY!”. Maricela slowly pulls away from her fiancé and steps aside to allow him back into the house. Martin makes his way to Penny’s room and slowly cracks open the door to see if she is awake… there is a small moment of panic in Martin when he sees her bed is empty until…

“Boo!”

Martin rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“What are you doing out of bed, little Monster?” Martin asks.

In her cute pink camo footie pajamas, Penny giggles. “I was thirsty, so I got up to get a cup of water.” She points to it on the nightstand. Her multi-color-changing nightlight makes it easier to see in her bedroom.

“What are you doing out of bed, Daddy?” Ah, the back-at-you tactic!

“Was just getting some fresh air. Now come on, let’s get you tucked in. I don’t want your mama getting on to me for you being sleepy all day tomorrow after staying up watching spooky movies.” Martin says. He picks her up and carries her back to her bed. She was getting bigger so he’d take every chance he’d get to pick his little girl up.

Penny holds onto her father with little swings of her legs and cute giggles. She takes a moment to rest her head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Her focus seems to gravitate on it, finding it soothing as she yawns. When she’s placed back in her bed and being tucked in, she looks up at him.

“Daddy? Can you make it rain in here?” She is, of course, talking about ASMR white noises. She just doesn’t know the technical terms.

“Of course, little Monster.” Martin says. He starts the playlist on the ASMR device for her and turns up the volume just a bit. He leans in and kisses her on the forehead.

“Hey little one… do you remember when your daddy used to fight people?” Martin asks. Penny nods in response. “What did you think about that? How did that make you feel?”

She tilts her head a little, one way, then the other way. Her big brown eyes sparkle. “Daddy, I always thought you were really cool in the ring! You, Mommy, Johnny, and Mikey before he re… re-ti-red? Um.” It’s a tricky word for a first-grader. She sticks her tongue out a little.

“Do what makes you happy, Daddy. No matter what you do, I’m your biggest fan!”

Martin can’t help but feel warmth spread from his heart throughout his whole body.

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself… but you know what makes me REAL happy? You.” Martin says. He boops Penny on the nose as he says ‘You’ and she giggles.

“Good night, Penny. I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy!”

And he knew she meant it.



“Please hear my confession and pronounce forgiveness in order to fulfill God's will. I, a poor sinner, plead guilty before God of all sins. I have lived as if God did not matter and as if I mattered most. My Lord's name I have not honored as I should. My worship and prayers have faltered. I have not let His love have its way with me, and so my love for others has failed. There are those whom I have hurt, and those whom I have failed to help.” Martin says in the confessional booth. It had been quite some time since he was on this side of the booth. In the Lutheran church there is no dividing wall between the Confessor and Reverend so Martin was currently speaking with his good friend and fellow Pastor, Bradley Tyson.

“My thoughts and desires have been spoiled with sin. What troubles me particularly is… my urges. I feel as if there is something inside of me that can not be satiated. An overwhelming urge to fight. I know that to cause harm to my fellow man is a sin but… for a time I was a competitor. I competed as a fighter to quell this urge.” Martin says.

“And why did you stop?” Pastor Tyson asks.

“...I was doing it for the wrong reasons.” Martin responds.

“No one is free of sin, brother. I know your Faith is strong so perhaps you need to change your perspective. You view this as some sort of… curse. I don’t believe God would have made you as good as you are at what you do for a reason. It’s easy enough to explain this away as sin but… perhaps He wants you to represent your Faith. To spread the good word in a way many would find unconventional.” Pastor Tyson says.

Mari: To conquer his fear. Penny: To bring himself happiness. And now Tyson: To spread His word. Things had finally clicked into place in the mind of Reverend Martin West. He is silent for too long before Pastor Tyson breaks the silence once more.

“Still going to wear the collar? ‘Reverend’ West?” Pastor Tyson asks. Bradley knew all about Martin’s previous exploits as a professional wrestler. Traditionally a Lutheran Pastor is infrequently addressed as ‘Reverend’ and it was uncommon for a Pastor to wear a clerical collar day-to-day.

“I always thought it was important not to hide my Faith or who I am. If I’m to spread the word then I feel the title and the collar really puts eyes on it.” Martin says. Most people in this business wore tights. Martin always made it a point to wear his full suit and clerical collar, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves to fight.

“Well then… then I guess all that’s left is…God be merciful to you and strengthen your faith. Do you believe that my forgiveness is God's forgiveness?”

“Yes.” Martin replies. Tyson places a hand in Martin’s head.

“In the stead and by the command of our Lord Jesus Christ I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Go in peace.”

Martin felt a great relief already. As if that man with his face had been driven out.

But was he?

Or was he merely satisfied?

Under the bed that Reverend Martin West shared with the love of his life was an old instrument case labeled ‘Grace’. Just like the Fiend said. Martin could envision himself opening that case and then… Pastor Tyson clears his throat to get Martin’s attention. The last bit was on him.