Short Story: Galactic Confessionary

Welcome to Galactic Confessionary – where for a small fee you can unload all your secrets, judgment not included in the price.

maxresdefault2-696x392Magnus read the sign on the door with ambivalence, he didn’t know what he was doing, he hated places like this, but then who else could he talk to about something this…he searched for the right word – delicate. Yes the situation was delicate. On his home planet of Ganzar, he would be detained for the knowledge he held, but here on Hoxcer, a planet that courted it lawlessness he was fine. He could share this secret that had been haunting him for weeks and could very well haunt him forever.

Magnus stepped into the booth.

“Welcome,” an appealing feminine sounding voice said in the universal language, “please feel free to begin whenever you are ready, you have purchased thirty minutes, it starts now.”

Magnus nodded, even though he knew she couldn’t see.

He took a deep breath and nothing came out, he was a little surprised to find himself nervous, he knew that the Galactic confessionary was played on the radio waves, and despite his disguise and paying in jewels that were untraceable he hesitated.

“Don’t worry,” the voice said softly, “there is no judgment here but the one you pay for.” It was said almost kindly that he almost believed her.

“Sure.” Magnus said slowly.

Then as if suddenly made conscious of the time he began speaking.

“My wife, my ex,” he shook his head, “she’s not my ex she’s my late wife, my late wife.” He took a deep breath.

“My wife was having an affair, I suspected, strongly suspected, so I had her followed, nothing, I put bugs around the house, still nothing, I took leave from work, and I still couldn’t catch her, she was good, very careful.” He said with a small smile, even in death he was still drawn to her ingenuity and cunning.

“Two solid weeks and nothing. I had to go back to work, going half-crazy thinking there was something wrong with me, I was too paranoid, too mistrusting but I’m a –” he stopped mid-sentence, almost revealing what plane he was from, he took a deep breath, “basically, my instincts are never wrong.”

“Never?” The voice said in surprise.

Magnus started at the voice, so altered from the cool indifference she had previously spoken with before.

“Never.” Magnus said with confidence, and he waited a moment trying to edge closer to the partition to see the face that belonged to the voice, but a kind of haze had been put on her so she seemed to shift and move.

“So, as I was saying, my instincts are never wrong, I knew she was cheating I just didn’t know how. Last week, I was on my way to a friend in another galaxy but I’d forgotten my compass, I went back, and I witnessed her murder. Or rather her death. The distinction is very important because on my home planet; murder is punishable by murder the only exceptions are proven cases of self-defence, sanctioned revenge and proven cases of genuine accidents.” Magnus paused.

“Her lover, a Santarian, a true teleporter, hence why I never caught her, is to be murdered for her death, because he was found with her. He pleads innocent, no one believes him because no one was there, except me. I saw the whole thing, and he is right, it was an accident. She tripped and fell he didn’t push her. And a better man than me would come forward as a witness.”

“But you’re not a better man.” The voice said.

“No judgment.” He said calmly.

“Sorry, do go on.”

Magnus gave her a look.

“The Earthlings call it karma, who am I to get in the way of it.”

“If it was truly karmic justice, then you would not have witnessed it, providing him with a means to escape his sentence of certain death.” The voice said gently.

“Well you’re just full of judgment aren’t you?” Magnus said with a small smile.

“My apologies, if you want I can charge you extra.” It was said coolly, but Magnus could almost detect a smile.

“Then tell me what to do.”

“I don’t need to because you already know.”

Magnus nodded and made to leave, just as she whispered.

“Goodbye, Ganzarian.” She paused and switched to Gandour. “For a race that is thought of as the proudest in the galaxy you seem almost decent.”

“Coming from you, who I suspect is an Angel or at least a half-breed; that might be the nicest compliment I’ve ever had.” Magnus said before he walked out.


My Husband, his Mistress and I part 13

My Husband his Mistress and I pic

Michaela gets out of the car and throws her hands in the air, they are shouting at each other – he gets out of the car and points in my direction and I feel the air go out of my body. He knows! She gestures here, then somewhere else and keeps gesturing, I’m getting the idea – she thinks he is paranoid.

He nods at whatever she is saying and makes to get back in the driver’s seat but she kisses him; and he and I both gasp at the same time. Right out in public, Marcus seems to be following my sentiments because they start arguing again.

I belatedly remember the listening device I have in my handbag, I haven’t been using it because the noise from the traffic has been interfering but I get it out just in case. Just when I’m finished setting it up they go back inside.

They drive to a beautiful yet humble looking bed and breakfast and get out.

“For fucks sake Michaela someone could have seen us!” Marcus says as soon as they are out of the car.

“No one saw, just calm down, look we have the whole weekend to ourselves, we both need to unwind so let’s not spend it arguing.” She says sliding her body closer to his and looking deeply into his eyes.

I smile.

“Well played,” I whisper.

They walk towards bed and breakfast.

My Husband, his Mistress and I part 12

My Husband his Mistress and I pic

I’ve ordered everything from listening devises to night vision lenses. Yeah I have far too much time on my hands, but this is just too interesting to give up. It’s been five weeks since that fateful day and my husband and his mistress, okay fine I know her name I just think it’s more mysterious to say mistress, have seen each other every day at work but also three times outside of work.

Its Friday afternoon, the weather is beyond beautiful and I’ve rented a black Toyota Yaris, not exactly James Bond, but at least it’s silent. My husband and his – okay fine, Michaela are in a hot red convertible Audi – not exactly incognito it’s almost like they want to get caught, but then again I did tell my husband I was off to my sister’s house for the weekend – she lives in Surrey and is currently on holiday with her husband and two children because yeah some people lead ordinary lives and don’t get off on following their husband and his mistress around town.

I’m three cars behind and I’m having the time of my life – my husband has been on edge lately because I’m getting bolder and bolder with my hint dropping and it’s hysterical to watch him squirming. From my recordings I know he has tried to break it off but Michaela is adamant that they continue and so far he is too powerless to deny her.

They pull over and I almost miss and go straight past, I quickly mount the curb, my heart hammering in my chest because my husband keeps looking back, the car has tinted windows, but still he is looking right in my direction and I’m breathless with anxiety.

My Husband, his Mistress and I part 7

My Husband his Mistress and I pic

It’s John, one of the older partners; he’s also unsteady on his feet, but not as unsteady as my husband or the woman. I glance back and forth, wondering what will happen; I tense, biting my lip in anticipation. The pair start as John bangs on the door. The woman dashes under the table and I suppress a babble of laughter at her poor choice. My husband does an even poorer job of fixing his clothes. What have they been drinking I wonder, it must be that scotch Parker keeps in his office. I’ve tried a sip and it kept me buzzing for the whole day, it says forty years on the bottle, but I’m pretty sure that scotch has been around since scotch was invented. John talks to my husband and I watch the woman; she looks so afraid and I actually start laughing. My husband makes the mistake of glancing at the desk a few times, but John is clearly too far gone to notice. But not far gone enough to tell my husband that I called, because the next thing I know, my phone is bleeping, I pick up immediately, eager to know what he will say.

“Vivian?” My husband slurs, walking into another room with John, and throwing a hand out to steady himself.

“Jesus Marc, where are you? I’ve been worried sick! I almost called the police.” I say adding a touch of hysteria to my voice, as I try and push down the laughter that seems to be bubbling up in me.

“I’m so sorry, I was…I was drinking, yes I was drinking. I apologize, sorry, I’m really sorry…”
O no! He can’t tell me, not, certainly not over the phone!

“Just come home, safely please!” I beg, trying to sound desperate, whiles keeping an eye on the woman who is still hiding under the table, I briefly wonder if she’ll stay there all night.

“Of course, of course, I’m leaving, and I’m sorry Viv.” He says.

My Husband, his Mistress and I part 4

My Husband his Mistress and I pic

‘My videos’, he used to be so supportive, I’m a YouTuber, I show people the best way to reupholster their furniture, I’m kind of a big deal, I make almost as much money as my husband and that’s saying something because he’s the youngest partner at the firm.

I shut the door and I’m alone in the house, the lovely huge house in the nice neighborhood; West Hampstead we’re rich blah blah, don’t get me wrong I’m grateful to be living the dream, we weren’t always rich so it’s not like I’ve lived with a silver spoon. But somehow I’m living this life, I organise luncheons with some of the wives of the husbands’ at the firm, as though that’s all I’m good for, organising charity events events so these people can feel good about buying diamond encrusted shower heads.

I set to work, I have a room for editing and shooting my videos, it takes all day and by the time I realise it’s ten at night. I go into the kitchen and prepare a light late dinner. A chicken salad with 75ml of water, because yeah, that’s what he likes when he’s working late or just coming back from a function. Its ten thirty and I set the table, I go and wash my hands, I don’t bother with make-up anymore except when I shoot my videos or leave the house, my husband wouldn’t notice or even care. Its ten forty five and I look up confused, I didn’t hear his car. I feel myself panicking and I switch on the TV to check the news, it’s ten forty five, nothing bad has happened in this part of world anyway. When it hits ten forty six I’m in full panic mode and I‘m annoyed at myself for feeling this way, but he’s just that good with time, when he’s seconds late he calls, for seconds! It’s ten fifty and I’m pacing our driveway.