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“It’s ok, Miss Lila; I can walk back home by myself,” Pump assured Lila as he walked towards the empty streets. The father, who was slowly limping asides the kid sighed in exhaustion; It had been a rough night for the both of them, yet despite that, the night was mellow and the streets were pretty much empty.
“Where are your parents?”
The father asked, breaking the ice. He felt slightly concerned for Pump, who was allowed to stroll around at such late hours; however, this was not very shocking since Lila had allowed her son to do so as well.
“They work a lot; but I live with my grandpa and my sister.” the kid responded, looking at the father, who seemed to pity him. No wonder he was so oblivious to the dangers that surrounded him; he had no one to guide or advise him correctly.
They arrived at the religious structure, the father, analyzing the situation spoke. “I see... Well, I cannot let you go by yourself; where is your house—?"
“But I want to see the church!” Pump interrupted. He felt the need to see the insides of the church, since he had done everything to be "worthy" to enter said place. The father thinks for a moment before giving him an accepting smile.
“You are welcome in the house of the Lord if you take your mask off."
With no hesitation, Pump takes off his mask, revealing his brown knotted curls; freckles that were scattered around his face; and a big grin that showed the evident tooth gap, which was from the concerning amounts of sugar he consumed without supervision.
Passing through the dark oak doors that contained a carved cross in the middle of each, he gazed around in awe at the insides of said church; the stained glass windows in which the moonlight gave a dim enough glow to illuminate the nave; the pews particularly aligned around the altar; the small candles that the father put out as he entered... It was all so captivating. The father then escorted Pump into a confession booth. Pump stood on the stool, looking around the confessional with amazement.
“Wooww… Mr. Gregor?”
“¿Yes son?”
“What do people do in these closets?” Pump asked curiously.
The town never really brought up much about Christianity or religion in general since the priests kept disappearing, so there really wasn't anyone who did the preaching or took care of the church. Pump had only heard small fragments of the Bible thanks to advertisements and movies he had occasionally seen on the cable. Knowing more about this was very fascinating to him so he listened intently to what he had to say. The father, slightly amused by his lack of knowledge, clarifies the purpose of the ‘closet.’
“The confessional is used to acknowledge your sins by telling them to the Lord; If you speak truthfully and regret what you are confessing to him, he will listen.”
“So when I enter the confessionals I speak to him? And he's listening to everything I say? Even right now!?” pump questions, shaken up by the idea of someone listening to the conversion. the father nevertheless was quick to reassure him.
“Well, yes, he is always listening. However, he does this to take care of us and looks after us to make sure we behave.”
“He looks at us and always listens..? from where? Are we on the TV?” Pump tilts his head in confusion, looking around to see if there were any hidden cameras. The father laughed softly. “Oh no son, he observes from above.”
“…You mean the stars??” The father, looking at the confessional’s wooden floor, thinks to himself that it probably was the easiest way for the kid to comprehend this. “You could say he does. Yeah, sort of.” Pump's grin widens as he responds. “Really?? Oh woow I didn't know it had more names; that is awesome!!”
Pump speaks up, jumping out of the stool as he walks out of the confessional asking eagerly. “What else do you do here, mister?” The father walks out of the wooden confessional and leads him to the pew’s kneeler. Now on his knees he murmures some prayers as Pump observes him.
“Woaahh, THIS IS-!” The father gives him a stern look to quiet him down. Whispering, he speaks again. “This is so cool! what do you do here??”
“This is how we talk to the lord, thanking him for everything he gives us and asking to protect us. Do you want to try talking to him?”
“YESS!” He kneels next to the father as he closes his eyes.
“Hello lord. I want to thank you for giving us the spookiest of months…”
“And thank you for giving me my friend, skid, I really like playing with him. Oh! my sister, Susie! she can be mean sometimes but does some very cool drawings and she even lets me draw with her sometimes.”
The father's smile softens, as he asks “Is there anything you want to ask him for? Its ok if you dont want to say it out loud.” Pump thinks for a moment; he closes his eyes, his entwined hands drawn to his chest and his head facing the wooden floor.
“I'm done.” The kid told the priest, raising his head back up and looking at the father. “Now, we will finish our prayer with an amen.” The father instructed Pump.
“Amen.”
.
.
.
"Well, I have to go home now. Thank you, father!!”
The kid smiled at Gregor as he put the mask back on and ran off through the dark oak doors, stomping quickly through the stone path that led to the streets. The father looked at the sky as he spoke. “Take care of him, Lord... take c-”
WHAM!
For a moment the father could hear a weird buzzing noise and his vision quickly grew blurry as he faded into unconsciousness...