The Best Free Internet Games, Free Online Adventure Stories and Free ebooks you'll dig up anywhere.

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Free Internet Games

1. The Shadow Being's, 'Punish the Wicked Game Series':

- 'Kill me a Vampire Game'

- 'Cage the Kensington Witch Game' (coming soon)

Free Stories & Ebook Downloads

1. Free Story and Ebook- Devolution

2. Free Story and Ebook- 'Til Death Do Us Part

3. Free Story and Ebook- The Confession

4. Free Story and Ebook- The Suit

The Confession

Father Halliday sat in the confessional and mopped his wrinkled brow with a handkerchief as he waited for the next parishioner.

The booth had been a comfort to so many for nearly a century but to him it was always a torture. It was cramped and musty and the hard leather clad seat wreaked havoc on his old and tired joints.

His arthritis had bothered him more than usual lately and the medication he was taking helped less and less each time he took it. Time and again he resorted to prayer and the passages of the good book to help him through, but even their comfort seemed to be waning over time.

It was true that the good Lord had bestowed many blessings upon him in his life – he had always been content- but the constant arthritic pain, or “the devils grip” as he liked to call it, was often more than he could bear and he welcomed the day when he would be rid of his earthly body with all its aches and pains.

He sat back as the adjoining confessional door creaked open, it’s leather seat squeaking as someone sat down.

He cleared his throat in preparation but always remained silent for a time to allow parishioners time to compose themselves and gather their thoughts. It could be a difficult thing to confess your sins, particularly for the devout, and he tried to make it as uncomfortable as possible.

The seat squeaked again and a man’s soft voice called through the stained lattice woodwork. “I am not of this church father, and not of this faith”, the voice said.

“All are welcome in the house of the Lord, my child”, Father Halliday said softly. “We are all God’s children and this church is a sanctuary for all those in need, whatever faith they may be.” He paused a moment. “Do you have something to confess before the Lord?”

“Yes father”, the voice said. “One of the garden keepers was outside earlier. He was having trouble getting a wheel barrow up over the curb and I just watched rather than helping him.”

Father Halliday coughed a moment and excused himself. “Do not be concerned, my son. I am sure he managed in the end and, though we should all try to help one another, what you’ve described is not a sin that you need to confess. Simply task yourself to help your brothers in future as you would have them help you when you are in need.”

The leather seat on the other side of the lattice squeaked and Father Halliday waited for his visitor to speak again.

“There are other things, Father”.

“Yes my son?”

“I used profanity because he stared at me in a way I did not like”, the visitor said.

“We are all weak at times. If you strive to follow the ways of the Lord in everything you do you can…”

“But Father”, the visitor interrupted. “There’s more.

“Yes”, Father Halliday said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“I hurt him, Father. I grabbed him by the throat.”

“My goodness,” Father Halliday exclaimed. “You must control urges like that. It can be difficult for some, I know, but you must not give in to them. Is the man injured?”

“Do you ever sin, Father?” the visitor asked, ignoring the priest’s question.

“We are all sinners in one way or another”, the Father replied. “You didn’t answer me... Is the garden keeper outside the church alright?”

“Oh no Father - I didn’t let him go until he stopped breathing and I impaled him on you wrought iron fence just to be sure he was dead”.

Father Halliday’s mind reeled and he began coughing uncontrollably. Normally, he would think this was a just a sick joke being played by someone not of the faith but there was something in this man’s voice that told him that every word was true and he felt a presence, no a force, suddenly constrict his breathing.

“But there’s more father.” The voice continued, the tone now menacing and harsh. “I smeared his blood all over the door of the church because I detest this building and everything it stands for.”

Father Halliday lost control of his breathing. He was gasping and tried to stand but found he couldn’t. It felt as though invisible fingers were tightening around his throat and his legs simply did not respond.

“Don’t move Father… I have more to tell you.”

The priest could not understand what was happening. Sweat began pouring down his face, his heart pounded fiercely in his chest and he was completely immobile. His weathered face strained under the pressure and he clenched his dentures together until he was sure they would break apart in his mouth. Saliva squeezed from the corner of his mouth.

“What I did to the gardener is nothing,” the visitor continued. “I have destroyed entire races Father… I have made the innocent suffer and die and have suckled the evil and the wicked of the world, bringing them to power whenever I could so they could so they could spread terror far and wide.”

Father Halliday tried to speak but could only manage a weak croak.

“I have come down through the ages bringing suffering and torment because it pleased me to do so. I have desecrated all that is good and destroyed that which is pure for hate’s sake. Pestilence, disease and misfortune are my children and hate, lust and greed my tools of trade. I spit on all things holy and urinate on that which is righteous.”

The priest knew that what he was hearing was true and shook uncontrollably.

“I orchestrated a thousand misfortunes upon man and have watched in amusement as he killed his brother and polluted his home.”

Father Halliday’s vocal chords were seized closed but in his head he chanted scripture after scripture trying to cast the abomination from his presence. He knew the entity that sat on the other side of the screen for he had fought him in all his subtle guises his entire life. How could the Lord allow this creature into his home?

“But I’m not such a bad guy Father…” the visitor continued. “Once you get to know me. And I want to help you.”

“…My saviour, I shall not want!” The father cried out, finally breaking past the blockage in his throat in mid sentence and feeling the fingers around his throat release ever so slightly. Whether it was through sheer will or divine intervention, he didn’t know or care. “I want nothing from you, you wretched creature! Be gone from this place!”

“Oh, but you haven’t heard me out, Father…”

The priest ripped free of the force holding him enough to take his wrinkled handkerchief from his pocket and wipe the sweat from his face with a trembling fist.

“I don’t have to hear you out, Devil! The Lord is my shepherd and I will never turn my back on the light and warmth of his spirit! He is my saviour.”

“But surely Father, if your faith is strong and his power so complete, you can hear my offer and turn your back on it with ease. Then, if you’re interested or not, I’ll leave this place quietly and will not visit any “gifts” on any member of your congregation for, let’s say a year? But only if you hear me out.”

The priest tested his legs again but still could not stand. “Spit your vile words at me as you wish, but then leave these walls and burn in your domain, far away from man. For you are not wanted here!”

“That’s not very nice, Father… but fair.”

Outside the confession booth, a woman waited to be heard. She paced back and forth at the entrance eager for absolution in the eyes of the Lord. She was tired and was about to sit at the nearest pew when the door of the confessional finally opened and its occupant pushed past her, leaving the church through it’s large mahogany doors.

She entered the confessional and scrunched up her nose as she sat for there was a fetid smell of decay and death and something felt askew. Perhaps it was her own guilt messing up her head and playing tricks on her.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned”, she began, eager to hear Father Halliday’s old but calming voice. “It has been two weeks since my last confession and I have given in to the temptations of Satan.”

There was quiet for a moment and then a strong, young and healthy voice came through the stained lattice before her that she didn’t recognise, but was strangely familiar.

“You and me both,” it began, “But Satan’s not such a bad guy… Once you get to know him.”

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