“I don’t know how to start this - “ her voice scratches.
She clears her throat.
“I need to say some things first. I am not crazy.”
She takes a measured breath.
“I am not crazy!” she yells into the camera.
She pours a drink, swills about half then returns the glass to the table.
“There are dark forces working against me, against all of us.”
She nervously rearranges the bottle and glass.
“We’re not supposed to be here - and this is never going to end.” her words quake with dread.
She finishes the drink, pushes out a labored breath and stares at the table, then at the wall behind the camera.
“People live their whole lives in fear of going to Hell. Not knowing - we’re already there.” she says, wringing her hands.
The increasingly agitated woman leaps from her chair and paces in and out of frame.
“We’re tricked into coming here.”
Another strained breath before being seated.
“Sometimes under the threat of force, like we have no say in the matter. Souls are trapped here, in this prison colony - our suffering is their food.”
She leans back in her chair.
“Escape is made to look impossible.”
She locks onto the lens, unblinking.
“The worst part is - I’m beginning to believe it.” her tone quiet, conquered.
She shuffles in her seat and refills the glass.
“Under this impression, I made decisions to do what most would consider terrible things - but I really saw no other solution. I did not take pride nor pleasure in these acts, they were done simply because they had to be.”
Tears run, her face twists in pain.
“I wanted there to be another way - there wasn’t.”
She empties her glass and stares hard into the camera.
“My name is Darcy Alban. I was born March 12, 1961.
This is my confession.”
Heretic
I’ll Be Waiting
The Confession pt. 1
The Confession pt. 2
A new three-part writing/painting series - splintering into forever, soon.
Coming 2026.
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