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Confession

Even though Granny was firmly against it, I decided to go to the police and confess that I killed Father Greg. This decision was not easy, but I knew it would be the only way to find peace of mind for myself. Granny’s crazy arguments were not helpful: she insisted that Father Greg was an evil demon who had to be destroyed. It just made it even more obvious that this was something I had do deal with just on my own.

So, yesterday I skipped school and went to the police station instead. When I arrived, I was directed to a room where I had to wait. It was a small room with no windows and only one table and three chairs. After about fifteen minutes or so, a police officer came in. He looked tired and he didn’t seem to be too happy to be there.

“Well, what do you want?” he asked me in a rude tone.

I told the officer that I had come to confess that it was me who killed Father Greg, but his reaction wasn’t anything like I expected. He gave me a most tired and annoyed look.

“Look, smart-ass”, he said. “We have our hands full with real crime cases to be solved. You may think this is funny, but we really don’t have time for jokes like this.”

I didn’t understand. Why didn’t he take the murder seriously? I started to explain in detail what had happened before the church collapsed, but he bluntly interrupted me.

“Father Greg has been a lot of assistance to the authorities in dealing with the tragedy”, he said. “It is very silly to make up stories like that.”

I didn’t understand what he was saying. There was no way Father Greg could have been assistance to anyone. He was dead!

But before I got a chance to say anything, the police officer grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the room. He marched me through the hallway to an office door and opened it. I immediately recognized the man sitting behind the desk. It was Father Greg!

“This boy just confessed that he murdered you,” the police officer told to Father Greg.

“Oh did he now?” Father Greg replied with a slight smile. “Well then, I guess you will have to arrest him.”

“I was thinking that maybe community service would be more beneficial, considering his young age”, the police officer replied. “Do you think your church would have any use for him?”

“We would be happy to have this troubled young man and help him to find peace,” Father Greg replied. “In fact, I think he could make a very good altar boy!”

And just like that, it was settled. I was ordered to do community service for the church with Father Greg as my supervisor. I was supposed to go to the church office every working day after school. And every Sunday I was expected to service as altar boy at the community center which served as a temporary church.

And I was too shocked to say a word against any of that. Father Greg was alive! How was this even possible? I did kill Father Greg – I am sure of it! Granny witnessed everything, so it can’t be just my imagination.

Or can it? Am I losing my mind?

What can I do to find out, what is real and what is not?

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