THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA

{ PART. 1 } - Entering the convent infirmary was like walking through a time warp. Jagged cracks ran along the neglected white-washed walls, and iron bedsteads looking like leftovers from the First World War lined each side of the room. The pungent odour of disinfectant took Christiano's olfactory senses hostage as he looked round the ward for the nurse, while the incessant drip... drip... drip from leaky taps shrilled in the silence. A buxom face with rose-flushed cheeks poked out of the bleached surgical curtains that concealed a portion of the room. I'll be with you shortly, Father Abbadelli. Please take a seat on the bed, over there. The nurse signalled with her had as she spoke. Christiano reached the bed and noticed a small television set nearby--a relic from the seventies. He switched it on and twisted the volume knob all the way down, to mute the sound. Father Christiano! called the Abbess from the doorway. She walked in, arm-in-arm with Father Cavallo whose face was st...

THE TRUTH: The Devil has never told the truth about the things of God. { JOHN  8:44 - Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it. } The Devil did not tell Eve the truth in the garden of Eden and man was expelled from a place of paradise. The Devil did not tell Cain the truth when he convinced him to till the ground and offer the fruits of his labor instead of a blood sacrifice. He did not tell him he would become a fugitive and a vagabond.                                           ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Devil will not tell you the truth about [ ETERNITY ]. He will try to convince you that there is no s...

The next morning, Christiano entered the narthex of the chapel with a bible in his hands. As he reached the nave, he slipped, skidded on his rear a fair way across the floor and collided with a bucket. A cascade of water splashed over his face and chest. He gasped as he wiped his eyes and opened them to gaze into large, oval eyes that gleamed like black pearls, a small pert nose and full pronounced lips. The woman with the familiar grey hooded cloak peered over him with a mop in her hand. The Virgin sculpture in the background seemed almost to be standing watch over her. He lay motionless and dazed, gazing up at a flawless face that  looked down at him like a frightened deer staring into the headlight of an oncoming vehicle. She grabbed the bucket and sped out of the chapel, leaving him breathless.                                                    ...

{ PART. 1 } - Christiano awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a room immersed in darkness. He turned on the table lamp, yawned as he scratched his chest, and checked the time on his alarm clock. It was 5.30 AM. He kicked the sheets away and rose out of bed. True to his word to Marcello, he approached Nicolas's photo, where he lit a candle and muttered a prayer. When he'd complete his blessing, he switched on all three fans, pulled a mat from his suitcase and placed it on the cemented floor. He took a seat, positioned himself into lotus pose, shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths before moving into a handstand. He then brought his legs up and over his legs up and over his head to finish with the soles of his feet on the crown of his head--Taraksvasana pose. He continued to perform various yoga poses before finishing with a cold shower and proceeding to breakfast. Agostina greeted him with a wide smile.       --------------------------------------------------...

[ PART. 1 ] - THE ABBESS TOLD US that you are only at Santa Maria for a year, Father Abbadelli, said Marcello. Christiano, who had a spooned a mouthful of minestrone, swallowed it quickly to reply. Please, call me Father Christano...Yes, Monsignor Luka Basso requested that I gave my services for twelve months. He dabbed his lips with his serviette. So you are on loan? He smiled. It would seem so. The priest who was to take on the role had a car accident breaking a few ribs, both his legs and an arm. Marcello made the sign of the cross. And if you were not here, Father? I was to continue my studies for a Doctorate in Theology. Ah, I see, said Marcello, looking impressed. What do you do, Marcello? I am the janitor at Santa Maria. So I shall see you every day. Do you every day. Do you attend mass at Santa Maria? Yes, the Abbess permits me to attend with Agostina on Sundays. Father Cavallo is a wonderful minister, but he was forced to retire, due to his hip. Such a bad fall. I was right th...

{ PART. 1 } THE CONVENT:                                                               ONE YEAR LATER, ITALY: Christiano stood at the entrance of the alleyway where the taxi had left him. The blazing sun, which highlighted the lustrous blue-grey flecks of his almong-shaped eyes, dazzled his vision. He used one hand to shield the blinding rays and scratched beneath his left eye with the other--distorting the mole in the shape of a cruciform below it. A rosary of perspiration had formed on his olive-toned skin, above his collarino, and jewels of sweat glistened across his forehead. He popped a ginger sweet into his mouth, picked up his luggage and continued to walk down the alley until he reached a small fifteenth century townhouse with a crooked but pristinely polished white door. He knocked and waited, breathing in the remnants of fre...

[ PART. 1 ] FORTUNA CAUTIOUSLY POKED HER:  wizened face out of the doorway, slanting her head to the right. Seeing no one, she beckoned to Angelica to follow. They tiptoed over Enzo's unconscious body, into the hallway, down the stair and out of the building. The streets were as black as the cosmos. It was as if the entire village was midway through a hundred-year slumber. There was not a light in sight, but for Fortuna's little torch, which shed just enough for their actions to remain covert. They hurried through the Lilliputian streets, which wound round the hilltop village like the perfect peel of an orange--manoeuvring between the cars and mopeds which were parked with tight precision along the irregular stone pavements. They reached a cobalt Fiat 500, stationed outside a house with a matching blue door that looked too small to allow the passage of a normal--sized person. Fortuna entered the driver's side while Angelica, wearing an exaggerated, grey hood which conceale...