My bag of sin is one of our online fiction series and this talks about spirituality. We hope you enjoy the read.
I sit at the edge of the flattened bed like fried unripe plantain we call kpekere, looking out the window into the street. Everywhere is dark but the streets radiates in colorful rays of tiny bulbs of light. I sniff and cry more. I do this always after the deed was done. And I feel empty and sick right in my heart. Who was I deceiving? The voice mocks at me. Silently, I die always.
The preacher’s words warm my heart but I fell I had failed, countless times. No doubt I toiled with the demons that snickered at my soul. Why did I always give in, why didn’t my will detest to do this? The silent voice comes, he assures me I have conquered this. How? When I will fall at the next push! What’s the hope of my redemption? The preacher, his voice echoes, the sermon mingled with a soulful note roused by the music organ. “He who is of God…he that is born of God doesn’t sin.” I asked “Am I not born of God?” “Is not he who lives in me of God and from God?” Why then do I fail each time?
“But you love it?” He pokes me.
“No I don’t”
“But you do it. That means you love it.”
“No, I do it because I don’t know how to do what’s different. I do it because I care for the moment. I never loved it one bit except in the days of before my better knowledge.”
He laughs deviously and let me be for the moment. I know he would return and he does, always, for two reasons. To lure me and then to scorn me!
My soul in all these though feels at home, like nothing’s ever going to move it. My flesh after each occasion goes on a holiday and my spirit is left to burn.
I burn as I keep staring into the night, I would have sang if it were any other night but I can’t when I think of how I have become helpless in my secret lewdness.
As the lights in the street sparkles, I wonder if somewhere in those homes covered with rustic roofs, there was someone thinking about their own bag of sin.
Next morning, I might wake up to sing hallelujah but tonight I will just watch the skies through my window. I think I will also send prayers across, maybe an Angel will be sent tonight to remove this cloak from me. This Angel will stand against he that lures and mocks at me. And my spirit can sing as the clouds sway along with the shinning stars.
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