The O-Men: The Series Part 1

September 17, 2016
Topeka, KS
Our Lady of Garrison Parish.

Saturday mass and confession. Time to absolve sins and help spirits closer themselves to God.
I hate confessions. I always have. There is something so unsettling about humans telling me all of their misconduct that i find genuinely detestable. If I were anyone else, I’d have turned them in to the authorities long ago.
Not that they would do a blasted thing about it, mind you.
The number of cops I get in here is alarming to say the least.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…”

The scent was as soft as the voice; a floral fragrance as enticing to my nostrils as her words were to my ears. This was one of the “others” I had come to recognize. These were not simply mankind I learned. These were different somehow. Stronger. Brighter. And far more dangerous.
And they had a certain smell unlike the humans. A fragrance unlike anything on this planet. The stronger these beings were, the stronger the scent was to me.
This one, though the first I had detected in many years, had a very faint smell..but a scent that was unmistakable nonetheless.

“Yes, my child?”
“I…I’ve never been to confession before, Father. I’m not sure if I’m doing it right.”

That would make two of us. I just started here myself. Father McGann had to take a very unexpected and sudden trip away from the parish a few weeks ago. One way. I got here too late to stop it, unfortunately. He was one of the strongest of us. The strongest, even at his old age. And he was here in this city for so long as their spiritual leader that his journals are overflowing with invaluable information that we will need to win this war that he saw coming so long ago. And we will win it exactly how he intended: peacefully.

“Welcome, my child,” I muttered clumsily. If she was one of these “abominations” that Father McGann wrote about, she was certainly less obvious about her intentions than most. “You should make the sign of a cross, child, tell me what you have done wrong in the eyes of our Lord.”


She’s hesitant. Her scent becomes stronger, hotter. Is she preparing to attack? I am not particularly worried by this…I am prepared for such an eventuality.

We all are.

That was Father McGann’s reason for starting the parish here. To offer these “abominations” refuge; shelter from the human’s who would undoubtably destroy them and to prepare a force for peace against the war that is surely coming. Some have choosen to stay here with me, other’s have gone their own way.

Other’s have even band together against our cause.

It is only a matter of time before I will know which one of these she will be. And then I will know what to do with her.

“….my father…”
“Yes, child?”
“No, MY father….I never knew him. My mother said he was a ‘special’ man whom she loved very much….”

She paused. Her scent remained strong, but not overpowering.

“…she died a few days ago….but before she did, she told me to find Father McGann….or the Parish at Our Lady Garrison….”

What? Why the heck would ANYONE do that? Unless…

“…I…umm…well, I think Father McGann may be my dad.”



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