I opened the church doors, and saw father Francesco waiting for me. I went inside.
The interior was dark, with only one lighted window in each wall. The ceiling had no vaulting, but an arch painted to look like stone. There were four rows of pews, each row divided by a wooden partition that came down almost to the floor; the aisle ran along the side of the nave and ended at the altar. It looked as if there might have been some sort of pulpit or reading-desk near the front, but it was gone now. In the center of the apse stood the altar, on which rested a plain crucifix. At either end of the apse, against the walls, were two tall statues—one of St. Francis, and one of St. Joseph. Both were naked, except for loincloths. A small statue of Mary was set before the altar. On the left wall behind the main entrance was another statue, this time of Christ. He held out his arms toward us. His body was crucified, but he wore a crown of thorns. Below him hung a banner inscribed "Ave Maria." The banner had once borne the image of Our Lady of Fatima, but it too had been defaced.
Father Francesco looked at me with compassion in his eyes. "Come to confess?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. "But first tell me—what is it that you see? What do you hear when you look into this mirror of yours?"
The old man smiled. "You know very well what I see," he said gently. "And as for hearing, I think you are beginning to hear something now."
He placed his hand on my head and closed his eyes.
Father Francesco was about sixty years old. His face was thin but strong; his hands were large and heavily veined. As he sat down beside me in the confessional box, I noticed that one of them seemed slightly deformed, with two fingers missing from the right hand. It was a curious thing, but I did not mention it. Father Francesco's voice was low and pleasant, though sometimes there would come over it a touch of sadness or anger. Now, however, he spoke in a tone of gentle reassurance.
"There is nothing strange here, son," he told me. "What we are seeing and hearing is quite ordinary. But let us start at the beginning. Why are you here, son?"
"Forgive me father for i have sinned. I committed sins in nai."
"Well, you can begin your confession, then. Tell me about your regrets."
"