THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA

[ CHAPTER  TWENTY ]  -  THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA { PT.  1 } - Marcello's car bumped against every rock and lump of protruding mud on the dirt track leading to the cabin. The towering trees trapped the darkness around them. It was like being inside a sarcophagus. Christiano reached a row of poplar trees which offered the perfect seclusion and parked. Well this is it! he said, switching the engine off. The eerie sounds of the indigenous night creatures screeched through the silence. the car's headlights illuminated a small cabin in the distance. He cut the light, enveloping them in blackness. Angelica's haunted eyes stared into the shadows. What is this place? It's not as scary as it looks. He reached his hand to the back seat and retrieved a large torch. I spent many a night here with my grandfather. This is where he gave me the knife I carry. Some of my fondest memories are here. How long ago did he die? Many years ago. I was just fifteen. We kept the cabin as a fam...

CHAPTER  TWENTY  -  PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA { PT.  1 } - A pensive Don Primo sat in solitude beneath an alcove in his restaurant. He fiddled with a lighter in the shape of three bullets welded together. He was almost obscured by the cloud of cigarette smoke engulfing him. On the wall behind him was an enlarged monochrome photograph of a young man with a Clark Gable moustache wearing a forties pinstripe suit, trench coat and fedora hat. Standing to knee height was a young boy with Don Primo's characteristic icy stare. They both stood at the entrance of the restaurant--as it looked some fifty years ago with the stone tiling worn to form a colossal stone facade. From a table opposite, Enzo watched him from beneath lowered eyebrows. Don Primo swiped his fingers through the snow-white hair that stylishly ran to the top of his shoulders, and continued staring down at the table deep in thought. Everyone was wary of his mood.              ...

{ PT.  1 } - An exhausted Christiano sipped a strong cup of espressp at the dining table of his parent's home. The porcelain clock on the cabinet behind him chimed eleven times. An anguished Rosa sat at the head of the table, to his left. Christiano, you look as if you hold the weight of the world on your shoulders. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took another sip of coffee. Son, forgive me for what I am about to ask, but are you responsible for this woman's condition? nothing gets past you, Mama... No, I'm not responsible. I have protecting her, actually. By whom? Is she in danger? Perhaps the less you know, the better. She placed her hand over his. If you are in trouble I need to know. How can we help you? I will take her to Nonno's mountain cabin. We will leave tomorrow, or maybe tonight. Son, you're scaring me. Who is this woman? Whose child does she carry? Christiano shook his head with a look that showed the full impact of his burden. Christiano, please....

{ PT.  1 } - The incessant ringing woke Johan. It was 6 am. He grimaced with annoyance. The caller ID was that of the cardinal. He sat up like a soldier caught slacking on duty and swiped the display screen. Your Eminence. He tried to disguise the morning croak in his voice. I am at the door; about to knock... Yes, Your Eminence, as soon as she's in the car... Yes, Your Eminence, everything was quiet last night... Thank you, Your Eminence. I will, Your Eminence. Goodbye... The phone went dead. Your Eminence, he said sarcastically and with a look of disdain. He placed the phone in his face in the rear-view mirror and used his finger as a toothbrush to scrape the front of his teeth. He slapped his cheeks, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and left the car. As he walked to the convent doors, he tucked in his shirt, put on his jacket and fixed his tie. He gave the door two hefty knocks and seconds later, noticed the doorbell. He pressed it. Moments later Father Cavallo came to his call cl...

[ CHAPTER.  SEVENTEEN   ]  { PURSUIT }                                      { PT.  1 } - Angelica awoke to a blaze of fiery beams spearing through the waning darkness. Beautiful, isn't it? She had almost forgotten where she was. She turned to her left to see Christiano focused on the road ahead. His face mirrored the colours of the dawn. She nodded appreciatively and made a quick yawn and a stretch before she removes her sketchpad and pencils from her bag and put graphite to paper. Christiano's head turned back and forth from the road to her. He marvelled at the skill of her hand. Minutes later, she held a completed sketch that resembled the glory before them. A talent I envy, he said. She tore it out of her book and gestured it as a gift. I can't accept it. He returned his attention to the road. Bewildered, Angelica placed the page back in the book and looked to the scener...

[ CHAPTER.  SIXTEEN ]  -  { PART.  1 }                                          Christiano paced his bedroom like an expectant father; his phone pressed to his ear. An open suitcase lay empty on his bed. The monotonous ring remained unanswered before it finally switched to answerphone. Mama, I need to speak with you ungently. Don't bother calling me; I'm on my way home. He slipped the phone into his trouser pocket, removed a bundle of clothing from his wardrobe and unceremoniously threw the items into his suitcase. In the bathroom, he swept his toiletries into a bag, showing no care for breakages. The bag was thrown into the suitcase just as haphazardly, and the case slammed shut. As he looked round the room, he noticed the portrait Angelica had sketched for him. He ripped it off the wall and examined it for a moment, staring at the face of a man he no longer knew...

[ CHAPTER.  15 ] - Steaming walnut-coloured liquid dripped from the spout into an espresso cup eagerly waiting to be filled with the intoxicating brew. Marcello drew. Marcello drew the delectable vapour into his nostrils where it circled his head with its invigorating scent. He placed the cup before Agostina who sat at the kitchen table staring into oblivion. He gently massaged her shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. Are you okay, Gosti? His caress awoke her from her mesmeric state. She batted her eyelids and platted his hand; an affectionate glint in her eyes that shone with relief. When you're around, I'm always okay. Christiano appeared at the door impeccably dressed in his priestly garbs. I'm off to Santa Maria to see if I can be of assistance to Father Cavallo. Okay, Father. I spoke to him this morning. He knows I intend to stay home with Agostina, today, said Marcello. He has arranged an early evening service. We will be there of course. Christiano nodded.   ...

[ CHAPTER.  FOURTEEN ]  -  { PART.  1 }                                      The wails and whimpers had reduced to woeful sniffles and hushed tears as the business of police and medical procedures took priority. The Abbess lay on a stretcher; her skin cold to the touch. The medic pulled the body bag across her corpse with the indifference of plank of wood. As the stiff, plastic cover reached her face, calm in repose, Angelica saw the last of the woman she had grown to love and value like a grandmother. She looked on, helplessly, shuddering as the ambulance doors slammed shut. She buried her head in Father Cavallo's shoulder. Christiano, shocked and pallid, with his clothes drenched in the Abbess's blood, stood next to them using disinfectant wipes to erase the dried red mass caking his hands and arms. No matter how assiduously he wiped, he could not remove the crimson tint ...

( CHAPTER  THIRTEEN )  -  { PART.  1 }                                        Sister Celeste ran desperately along the beach until her knees gave away under her. Though she had distanced herself from the tragedy behind her, she had laboured for every cumbersome step. The sand had swallowed one foot after the other in a relentless battle. To muffle her wailing, she cupped her face with her hands and bent low to press them in the sand. There she remained until a wave lapped at her fingertips and wetted her face. The water's chill quietened her crying. The soothing sounds of the rippling tide acted as a natural sedative, filtering through her body and numbering her senses. She started into the darkness at the veiled night spreading infinitely before her. The moon poked its head through the misty sky. No sooner had she registered its light, it was gone; claimed by a drifti...