Sowing Season

by Brian Patrick Edwards

  “You guys forgot to mention that I wouldn’t feel proud of any of them.” Stone exited the apartment, leaving her behind as she called for him to return.

  …

  He still loved her, loved her more than he ever had, but reality began exposing it all to him. He was heartbroken over her, not wanting to abandon her in the basement, but unwilling to listen to her attempts to comfort him any longer. It was always the same speech, always the same points, promises of the future that remained nowhere in sight. STORK tower still stretched into the sky, visible to all in the city, and Unity still menacing above it invisibly ruling the masses. Nothing had been done it seemed, but the vain attempts to end abortions; the attempts to stop something that was continued without the slightest hiccup in progress.

  The entire train ride over, his eyes watched every passerby, paranoid that they knew who he was and what he had done. Everywhere he went in public, even as he wore coats and long sleeves, he kept guard over the branding on his arm. It was a mark of shame, a mark of his youthful ignorance and a sign that he had been duped into believing the lies others had successfully sold him. His family, the people he had once started to loathe, had always been right. Michael had always told him the truth, with his words and his fists, and even at Ruffner they told him, attempted to save him from his own thick-headedness. The train ride seemed to last an eternity as he felt the dread that he would be too late reaching them. None of his texts or calls had been answered. He thought that perhaps Cole had been afraid to associate with him. It was possible, he believed, that his family had officially detached themselves from him, that repentance was too late and that his journey to Irondale would be for nothing.

  Finally, after a time of trembling upon the train, the Irondale stop approached and he stood before the train had even halted. Stone began walking towards the doors, exiting them as soon as they had opened, and took a deep breath of the foul air that hung in the town. The sea of blue sparkled like the tears that had pooled along his eye-lids. He ran down the stairs of the platform and raced all the way to the house in which he had been raised. There was something odd about it, something different, and his worst fears made themselves a reality in an instant.

  He began knocking rapidly on the door and rang the doorbell repeatedly until someone answered angrily. “Ronny?” he asked, confused.

  “Stone! I was getting ready to open a can on someone,” the new tenant greeted him with laughter. “Where you been, man?”

  “Been living in the city. Where’s everyone?” He skipped the pleasantries.

  “You mean Mikey and them?” The young man stood towering in perplexity.

  “They left already, didn’t they?” Stone resisted the emotions that crashed against him like rogue waves against a ship.

  “Yeah, man. I thought they would’ve told you. They left a couple nights ago.” Opening the door wider, “Wanna come in?”

  Stone wanted to turn away immediately and run, but he realized there wasn’t anywhere he wanted to go, “Maybe for a minute.” His voice was choked and the words were difficult for him to form. “Did they leave anything?” He hoped a note would have been left or perhaps he could get a clue somehow, of where they had actually gone.

  “Come in, come in!” Ronny invited him again, oblivious to Stone’s hidden emotions. “Not sure if they left anything. They locked up some stuff in the basement. Did you need to get something?”

  Cardboard boxes lined the walls of the hallway and living room. The place that had been Stone's home at one time was now made alien to him. The entire place seemed different even though some of the same furniture remained in place. The photos that hung from the walls had changed and the abandonment by its previous tenants left the house sad, it seemed to Stone. There was a darkness to it, a somberness, more like a lack of light that once shone within it. The visitor looked over the kids’ height marks along the door frame. The black and blue names of his family had faded over time, yet left their impression in the wood.

  “Did you hear me, Stone?” Ronny laughed uncomfortably, watching his guest inspect the room.

  “I was hoping they’d still be here.” Stone wasn’t sure what to do. “I guess…I don’t know…I guess I should go then.”

  “You don’t have to leave! Stay a while, tell me what’s up. Feels like forever since I’ve seen you.” Ronny quickly made his way into the kitchen and grabbed two beers and returned with them opened, handing one to Stone.

  “Thanks.” Stone sat on the couch in the corner, the one that Cole had always taken for himself. Ronny sat across from him on the long couch, waiting to hear Stone begin as he sipped his beer.

  “I’ve been living with some friends -- past few months, I guess. It’s been a minute, now that I think about it. What about you?”

  “Just holding the place down, until they return.”

  “If ever they return, you mean.”

  For the first time, perhaps because of the beer’s relaxing effect, Stone revealed his sadness a little more. Or maybe Ronny had just finally detected the sadness in his voice. Ronny suddenly understood there was something the matter with Stone.

  “Mass starts in a couple hours if you'd like to stay a while and attend. Whole neighborhood is bringing food to welcome the new priest.”

  “I don’t know. I’d catch fire if I attended a Mass right now.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Just done things recently -- things that have me hellbound, surely.”

  “Father James will be here in an hour. He’ll be hearing confessions in the shed outside, just as Burns did in the winter. I already got the space heater ready in there so it won't be cold. I’m sure there’s nothing too grave. Priests hear all sorts of wild things.”

  “Maybe,” the invite tempted Stone; however, he couldn’t imagine the penance that would be required. The possibility that the priest would tell him to turn himself in terrified him. There was no telling what the penance would be and whatever it was, he would need to honor it.

  “I promise man. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve done disgusting things and the priest just says. Is that everything?”

  “It’s a bit different with me. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

  “Give it a shot, Stone! Don’t worry about it. You might just leave here in a state of grace tonight, you know!” Ronny chuckled lightly, trying his best to encourage the sad young man.

  The two of them continued talking about things regarding the family and if they left any messages for him. Soon after the topics ran dry, Ronny took Stone into the basement to look around for anything packed away that belonged to him. Stone found a few small things, things he had forgotten he even owned. For a moment, he was tempted to take them, but then he realized that they had been out of his possession, unnoticed for so long, that it didn't make a difference if he took them. This basement is a sort of time capsule, he thought. If they ever return, even years from now, everything would be sitting there just as they left it. He decided against taking anything, even his own effects. Choosing, instead, to leave it all untouched -- to gather dust while the items waited for a light to hit them again.

  “I want to leave a note down here.”

  “Yeah, sure man. Cole’s got some sketchbooks and pens over here. Surely there’s an unused page in one of them.” Ronny thought it strange that Stone wanted to leave a note in a basement. A note that would likely be old news before anyone ever read it. It would be easier to text or call his family, surely.

  “Unlikely, Cole fills everything, but maybe so!”

  Stone flipped through the sketchbook left on the top of the stack, it’s dating was fresh, finished just weeks ago. The book had been filled with sketches Stone had never seen, some of them speaking loudly to him as if the markings themselves shouted. They all looked so familiar, but he didn’t have time to inspect them in the dark basement with Ronny hovering over him. Stone tore a page out and wrote his note to the family. He put everything in there, but only hinting at certa
in incriminating things. Once he finished, he folded it and left it resting in the frame of a family photo, leaning against a dresser that had been moved down there.

  “I’m going to take this sketchbook with me. It has a bunch of new art and I haven’t seen any of it.”

  "Alright." Ronny laughed, not caring what Stone did. He thought it funny that he even mentioned it as if he were asking for permission.

  The doorbell rang throughout the house, resonating down the stairs into the grim basement. “Must be the priest! You sure you don’t want to stay?”

  Stone’s heart fluttered excitedly, as he felt a sudden inclination to stay. The paintings of the saints along the walls of the basement pushed him, filled him with confidence. Church history had always been a bloody matter, surely his confession wasn’t anything new. Stone was still uncertain about the penance, but felt assurance that whatever it was would be alright by him. He had nothing to lose, other than his eternal soul, and the pains of Hell would be far worse than incarceration.

  "I think I'll give it a shot," Stone said and he followed Ronny up the stairs to greet the priest inside.

  Father James placed his collar on just as he entered the house and smiled as he shook hands with both the young men. He was shorter, nearly the same height as Stone, and he had dark skin. “Nice to finally meet you face to face, Ronny! I’m really looking forward to holding Mass here. You’ll probably see some new faces from my previous mission.”

  “The more the merrier! We’ve got the whole neighborhood coming and they’re bringing dinner.”

  “Wonderful!” The priest studied his surroundings, taking it all in, “So, perhaps I should take my place in the shed? That’s where confessions have been heard in the past, correct?”

  “Yes, there’s going to be a line developing any minute now, once people start to arrive.”

  “Oh, I’m sure of it.” The priest passed through the house, to the back door by Ronny’s direction, and exited quickly, leaving the two boys alone.

  Stone became nervous. His body shivered as he convinced himself to receive the sacrament. I don’t know…I’m a terrorist…there’s no way this will end well. There’s no hope…there’s nothing for me out there, but a jail cell or excommunication. Now that reality was setting in, he knew there was more to it than the brief confidence that the saint’s images had offered him.

  “You going, or should I go first?”

  “You go first, I’ll be next.”

  …

  Ronny exited the house and joined the priest in the dimly lit shed. Stone began to pace around the kitchen nervously, chewing at his nails again, wishing he could smoke a cigarette before he went. Ronny took hardly any time at all, returning no more than two minutes later.

  “You’re up!” He smiled until Stone turned and presented himself, eyes bloodshot and filled with tears.

  “Hey man, it’s okay!”

  “Can’t believe I’m about to do this.”

  “Hey, I’ve been binge watching porn the past couple weeks. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  If Stone hadn’t been lost in a sea of regret and deep sorrow he would have laughed hysterically at Ronny’s announcement, as he compared the sins. Anyone following Stone’s confession that night would surely have an easy penance, he imagined. No one could top his sins. Everyone in the neighborhood either drank too much or had common sins of the flesh, but none of them were terrorists.

  He became dizzy as the room seemed to spin around him when he turned for the door and gripped the knob tightly. He pushed and cracked the door away from the frame to make his exit into the chilling wind, blowing towards him. It was winter’s kiss, almost freezing the tears against his cheeks. It was the cold air that stormed against the hellfire which awaited him -- two extremes that he had not fully prepared himself for.

  The shed had a little window in the side of it and an orange light radiated from it. It was the light from the heater, warm and inviting it would be to other confessors; but, to him, it represented the awful eternity awaiting him. He hesitantly opened the shed’s door and entered the silence within. The wind blew noisily against the sides of the wooden walls and the priest waited for his visitor to speak.

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Stone’s voice shook as he crossed himself and the tears poured out of him like a fountain. “It’s been months since my last confession.” He withheld the loud weeping sound that he wanted to make, yet violently shook with nervousness in his chair.

  “Peace be with you, child. There’s nothing to fear here.” The priest heard his sniffling and shakiness, unable to see him fully through the screening that had been propped between the two chairs.

  “I’ve done horrible things, Father. Horrible, horrible things, and I’m unsure how to even say them. It hurts to even speak on what I’ve done.” The words came out just as Stone felt the floodgate of emotions bursting within him. He knew he’d be wrecked as soon as he opened himself fully. The pressure in his head began to build and build until there wasn’t any strength in him left to hold it back. He fell prostrate onto the floor moaning loudly as he wailed with lamentations.

  “Son,” the priest waited until the most violent cries passed and Stone calmed himself, “there’s no limit to the sins many have committed and yet when they've confessed, however severe they may be, the Lord returns to them His forgiveness. He pours out His Divine Mercy for all who seek to find it.” The priest encouraged Stone, his voice calm behind the screen. The wind howled against the window to his left, as he sat between the two.

  “A few months ago, I joined the Zealots.” Stone rolled up his sleeve to look at the branding on his arm. He rubbed the scars as he recalled all that happened since.

  “I see.”

  “I thought we were going to change the world…save our people from persecution.” Stone sniffled and cleared his throat, the torrential tears and cries had ended. His voice calmed greatly, “Destroy STORK and Unity. I thought we were crusaders, waging war against the hordes of Hell.” The priest was silent beyond the screen, Stone had expected more of a reaction -- a major reaction. He continued his story, “I've been living with them. And at first, I was only running errands and passing messages between them...vandalizing buildings with their propaganda.” Stone took a deep breath before continuing, wondering how the priest was taking it all in. “Then I was officially initiated. They branded my arm with the Jerusalem cross.” Stone unrolled his sleeve and covered the marking. He looked towards the screen to see if the priest was peering through. The priest’s silhouette showed his head leaning against the support of his hand, slouched against the screen. “After that night, they gave me more serious jobs, and I, uh, I was…was trained…” Stone began to weep, unable to control himself any longer. His heart tore open with every syllable, “…on how to make…bombs.” He shook his head, “And I…I, uh, I even helped plant the bombs the night before the attacks last week.” Once he uttered the words, the torment poured out in his voice, “I’m responsible for their deaths…every one of them…all those faces on the news…I killed those people. Some of them most likely not even wanting to be there…I ended them.” Stone’s voice cracked once again as more tears came, “I don’t have the slightest clue what to do Father. I’ve committed a sin so grave that I’m drowning in it. A hundred lives lost because of me. A hundred. Men, women, children, the unborn. I killed them all, Father…and I’m not sure there’s anything I could ever do to make up for it.”

  The priest remained silent for some time, Stone could almost hear a sniffling from beyond the screen, as if the priest himself had begun to cry. The silence between them seemed to last an eternity. Nothing spoken, no comfort given. Stone was afraid to speak, afraid to impatiently interrupt the priest’s contemplation.

  “I see,” the priest said after the long nerve-racking silence, clearly searching for what to say. “It’s a horrible, horrible sin you’ve committed, but yet somehow it isn’t unforgivable to Christ.” The priest’s voice was pain
ed, he strained as he spoke to the penitent. “Jesus was crucified for our sins, Stone.” Hearing the priest speak his name made him uneasy. “God Himself, the Creator of the universe, came down in flesh to die for you. You must understand, that no matter how horrible the sin is, nothing is greater than His sacrifice. If you’re truly repentant, there’s nothing that stands in your way. You must have faith in His forgiveness.” Every word shocked Stone. He had expected the priest to immediately alert the authorities or command him to turn himself over. The words were like honey when he had expected a bitter poison, a searing of ears.

  “How though? God will surely cast me into Hell. There’s no place in Heaven for someone that’s done what I’ve done.”

  “Are you not listening?” The priest spoke sharply, “God allowed Himself to be sacrificed for you! To doubt His forgiveness is to belittle that sacrifice. It blasphemes the love our Father has for us. Never doubt His mercy, Stone. His purpose was to die for your sins. He even died for the sins of the people whose murder you contributed to.”

  “Yes, Father. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Stone broke out in tears after hearing the reproach.

  "There are also people who have done similar things to what you’ve confessed and they’re saints now. Saint Paul, as I mentioned earlier, murdered Christians, before God blinded him. Saint Olga, massacred an entire tribe before selling the rest of them into slavery. And then her grandson followed a similar path as well until he converted. Even King David was a man after God’s heart, and the Bible is filled with atrocities he committed. Believe me, if it were entirely up to me, I wouldn’t offer such extreme and radical forgiveness. It’s not in my heart. In fact, I can’t say that I’d ever be able to forgive you, but I am a small man and God is greater than the weight of all the world’s sins. No matter how great they are, He’s large enough to destroy them.”

  “What must I do, then?”

  “It’s a very serious crime, that you’ve confessed. Possibly the gravest sin I’ve heard confessed.” The priest’s words began to singe Stone’s heart. He felt as if he were burning and the wait brought great suffering to him. “Don’t let my words allow you to believe it wasn’t anything, because it is. What you did is as horrible as the things they do. You mustn’t become one of them when you fight. In fact,” the priest sounded as if he wept, “if things were any different I would ask you to turn yourself in tonight. I’m absolutely certain, however, that Unity would execute you and perhaps hunt down your entire family. Your crimes would endanger the entire neighborhood here and I can’t let that happen.” Stone continued to cry and wipe snot and tears away as they drained from his face. “The entire community should not perish because of your sin. But, you must mend your relationship with God and turn away from the Zealots immediately.”