The Odin Chronicles • Episode 39: “The Church of a Million Gods” • by Jason P. Burnham ~ Stupefying Stories Magazine

The silent betrayal in the downturn of his fiancée Shelley’s lips and the hunch of her shoulders haunted Father Luigi as he walked the dirt path to the church. He shivered as the bitterly cold wind that characterized the sometimes-hostile weather on Odin III whipped at his Roman collar. He and Shelley had had their fair share of fights, some with more shouting than others, but this time, Shelley hadn’t yelled when he’d said he needed to leave in the middle of their date night at Weber’s Place. She’d just been disappointed, and that somehow hurt the worst.

But Luigi had felt like his only choice was to cover for Father Maria, who had messaged to say she’d taken ill with a terrible dizziness and crushing headache, and could he please come hear the confessions of the two parishioners she’d left waiting? He hadn’t thought people from Father Maria’s planet were genetically capable of becoming sick. Yet here he was, struggling to open the church’s heavy metal door against the howling wind.

He pushed his way inside and the grey door slammed shut behind him. Inside, his most dedicated parishioner, Tomás, was on kneelers with his hands clasped together, thumbs to his forehead. The door’s reverberations through the candlelit chapel made Tomás look up from his reverie. He nodded at Father Luigi with a smile, then made eyes at the other person in the chapel, as if to say, A newcomer, see to them first. Tomás winked and went back to praying.

The newcomer was not someone Luigi recognized, at least not from the back. They wore a brown hood over their head, and when Luigi made his way to introduce himself, the light from the church’s candles cast shadows such that their face was darkened.

“Welcome, my fellow in the Lord.” Father Luigi held out a hand.

From within the long brown sleeves of the hooded coat, an alabaster hand emerged and shook his firmly.

Father Luigi did his best not to flinch at the chill in the hand. “You’re absolutely freezing. Glad you’ve come out of the cold!”

The hooded figure nodded, but didn’t speak.

Not wanting to alienate the newcomer, Luigi ushered them further into the church to the confessionals.

“Come, my child. It’s warmer here.”

The newcomer followed Luigi’s guiding hand on their back. To Luigi’s surprise, despite the soft-appearing sheen, the garment was quite solid and hard. Frozen, perhaps.

Luigi settled the newcomer into the seat of the oaken confessional booth—it had been imported from Earth at great cost to the Church.

Why had they still not spoken? He felt a twinge of guilt at his sudden guess—perhaps they were heavily intoxicated on mine mushrooms from deep within a Galactic Mining dig site. Perhaps they’d nearly frozen to death, only entering the church to thaw out. He’d seen a few such tortured souls in his day.

When he entered his side of the confessional, he glanced toward the hooded newcomer and tried his best to make out their face through the shielded sliding window between them. All Luigi could really distinguish was that they were looking at the ground. If they were high on mushrooms, maybe they wouldn’t speak at all, or at least not for some time. There was no rush—he knew Tomás wouldn’t leave until he had confessed.

Luigi’s mind wandered as he patiently waited on the newcomer. He thought again of Shelley and how disappointed she’d been. He needed to give her his own confessional. Forgive me, Shelley, for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession. I have not been able to devote the time and affection you deserve. It was a little blasphemous, but even God wouldn’t have fared well against the level of disappointment he’d seen. Well, maybe the angry God of the Old Testament…

Luigi shook his head. These were not the meandering thoughts of a pastor. He cleared his throat to prompt the new parishioner, but they didn’t budge. For the first time, he considered that perhaps their inexperience meant they didn’t know what to say.

“When I entered, my child, there were only two of you, and I know the other well. May I, perhaps, know your name and the sins you’ve come to confess?” The words were stiff coming off his tongue, but he had internalized an image of formality in the proceedings surrounding the sacraments that he felt he had to maintain.

There was a rustling as the newcomer leaned forward, alabaster hand showing even through the privacy window as they made the Sign of the Cross.

Not their first time, Luigi thought to himself.

“Bless me, Father…”

The hairs on the back of Luigi’s neck prickled at the voice, cold as the hand he’d shaken. So low as to be almost a rumble.

“…for I have sinned. My last confession was longer ago than time can count.”

Luigi frowned. What could that mean? Maybe he had been right about mushrooms.

“Father, my chief sin is… knowledge.”

There was a pause, but Luigi didn't interrupt.

“I am not here, however, to ask for forgiveness. I am here to share that knowledge with you.”

“I understand my child.” Arrogance was a good confession, even if they didn't see that sin in their words. “For your sins, you may—”

The newcomer interrupted as if they’d not heard Luigi. “I know you have seen it. Maybe in your loved ones, maybe in the implements of your daily life—changes, small and large at once. The overlapping bleed of reality.” At this, they chuckled, a sound like a falling boulder.

Luigi blinked; he wasn’t sure he had a proper penance for this.

“Know this—your God is but one thread of the Divine Fabric which underlies all of creation. Each thread has its own name, many unknown to you, some long forgotten. Consider this place but one house of a church with a million gods.”

A warm swelling sensation overwhelmed Luigi. His head felt as if it was too full of blood. The confessional began to swim and a crushing headache pulsed at his temples. If he’d not felt so lousy, he’d have recognized these as the symptoms that Father Maria had reported to him before she’d taken her leave.

A sudden boom shattered the pulsating inside his head, and Luigi felt as if the extra blood in his head had solidified and was falling away.

“My child—” he began. But when he looked up, the brown-cloaked person with the alabaster hand had disappeared.

Luigi pushed himself to his feet and trudged back into the church. Tomás knelt as they had been before he’d gone into the confessional.

Tomás looked up. “A new convert?” He smiled.

“Did you… did you see them leave?”

Tomás shrugged. “I’ve been so deep in prayer, I hadn’t noticed.”

Luigi shuddered at the thought of the cold white hand. He made a note to himself to check on Father Maria once Tomás had confessed. And to give Shelley a very big hug. No, a hug wasn’t enough. He needed to make real changes in how they interacted if they really were going to get married. He needed her by his side for so many reasons, but having her help him work through… whatever this visitor had been was task number two for their relationship—right after his apology.