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    Death of a Pope Birth of Hope
    Death of a Pope Birth of Hope
    Death of a Pope Birth of Hope
    Ebook59 pages52 minutes

    Death of a Pope Birth of Hope

    By J.T. Evergreen

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    About this ebook

    The hypocrisy of the Roman Catholic Church is the underlying theme of Death of a Pope. Failure in its mission to promote the spiritual growth of the faithful comes to light in this, the information age, where secret agendas no longer remain secret.
    Pope Boniface, Raffaele Vincenzo Valentini, the last true Vicar of Christ is in jeopardy of being swept aside by the political corruption of the Holy See. He is visited by the mystical Father Frederick Monahan, who died on the RMS Titanic in 1912 and remained behind on this plane to give spiritual assistance where required. Aware of the plot against Raffaele, Father Freddie consuls and warns him of impending trouble.
    Father Freddie’s mission is to influence, but never to interfere with the destiny of anyone. Realizing Raffaele may succumb to the intrigue of the Holy Sea, he visits Father Marc, a selfless young American priest and begins to groom him for the possible soon to be vacated throne of the Catholic Church.
    When Raffaele is murdered, the wheels for the election of the new Pope are put into motion, bringing together the characters who are to participate in the unfolding drama. Father Freddie makes a surprise appearance during the first day of the conclave. In addition to berating the participants of their hypocrisy, he indicates that the individual responsible for the murder of Pope Boniface is among them. As he vanishes in a blinding light, the doors of the Sistine Chapel are unlocked, sending the participants fleeing.
    Father Marc is drawn into the conclusion of this tale by the gift Father Freddie gave him during their first meeting, resulting in his election as the next Supreme Pontiff, the Bishop of Rome.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJ.T. Evergreen
    Release dateFeb 9, 2019
    ISBN9780463272428
    Death of a Pope Birth of Hope
    Author

    J.T. Evergreen

    OCCUPATION - Retired from the grind. Reflecting on successes, failures, and regrets. Exploring new aspects of self, writing that book which will get me an Oscar, staying out of trouble - well, small amounts of trouble are ok. Bringing joy into people's lives with random acts of kindness - the ones who aren't expecting it are the best. Cheering up check-out clerks at WalMart.ABOUT ME - Alone in blessed singleness. Wicked sense of humor, enjoy my own company, glad I'm not young any longer. I do miss the intimacy of being in love. A good catch . . . at least I think so. Enjoy the possibilities of every moment, an imagination that won't quite, a master weaver - give away everything I make, excellent portrait painter, a national treasure - though no one agrees with me, a good listener, intuitive, a good conversationalist, avoid boredom and boring people at all costs - that's a career all by itself.INTERESTS - Intelligent conversation: hard to come by these days, metaphysics, mysticism, my pups - Charlie, Max, and Bailey, seeing the funny side of life, going to Macy's at Christmas time - kicking Santa and punching an Elf. If I had a singing voice, which I don't, I would sing all of the time, wherever I was - even in WalMart. Wouldn't that be enchanting? When I receive the Oscar for the book I'm writing, I will have some baritone sing On A Clear Day, and I will lip sync his voice. It will wow the audience.PUBLICATIONS – Short Stories to celebrate the NEW YEAR - 23 delightful short stories; Alone at the Beach 25 short stories to keep you company, Home Alone, 8 Great Stories to keep you company, Born in the Twilight, Injun Summer, This’nThat, Short Stories for a Summer’s Day. Holiday Short Stories, With All My Love, Father Frederick Monahan, Shangri la, Stepping Stones to God, I’m Gay Mother – Get Over it, The Olde Book Shoppe, Naked Before God, The Italian Call Boy, The Silence of Healing, Death of a Pope, The Best Short Stories Ever, and My Love Affair with Father Tomas McTavish, working on a new character, Father Gibbon with Sister Mary Magda in TheAdventure of Father Gibbon with Sister M. Magda - it's about murder. I get choked up when I re-read some of my sentimental stories. I’m told that’s a sign of being a good writer.LOVES - Color and lots of it, strawberry jam, hiking up Yosemite Falls, Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, sourdough bread, only made in San Francisco. Hearst Castle, Big Sur, sea air, Adams peanut butter, chocolate milk, rainy days, canaries singing, chocolate chip cookies my mother made, Greek yogurt with honey - oh, yum. Laughter. I make it a point of doing this many times a day.HATES - Stupidity, insensitivity, bad table manners - come on, how difficult is it to hold a fork properly - it's not a shovel for God's sake. Snow, ice, slush, freeway traffic, lima beans - what was God thinking, sleepless nights, people who are late, texting - it's a cop-out, tobacco, alcohol, red meat,FAVORITE BOOKS - The Spiritual Journey of Joel S. Goldsmith, How to Win Friends and Influence People - I collect this book and give them to people I hate - there's a waiting list.FAVORITE MUSIC – Let's Talk Dirty to the Animals – Gilda Radner - funny lady;; Joplin’s Peachrine, Ahmad Jamal - Country Tour - the absolute best jazz - never tire of it. Someone Waits for You – Carly Simons, Helen Kane singing Button Up Your Overcoat and I Want to Be Bad – I relate to the lyrics. And the Tenor who sang Springtime for Hitler in the Zero Mostel version of The Producers. No one seems to know who he is. What a voice.FAVORITE FILMS – The Celluloid Closet, Witness for the Prosecution, It Could Happen to You, Maltese Falcon, Inherit the Wind, 12 Angry Men, Harold and Maude, Murder on the Orient Express, Hope and Glory, Sorry Wrong Number, Speed, Practical Magic, Apollo 13, Where the Red Fern Grows, The original Producers - touch me, hold me - Estelle was terrific, and Zero - what can I say.FAVORITE TV SHOWS - I don't watch TV any more, but when I did . . . 2-1/2 men - when it was good. Everybody loves Raymond - some great writers; best sight gagsFAVORITE QUOTES – The poetry in writing is the illusion it creates: by me. Lord Chesterfield: “Sex: the pleasure is momentary, the position ridiculous, and the expense damnable.” The saddest words of tongue or pen are these - It might have been - indeed they are. If you want to make a success out of old age, you better start now: my mother when I was 15. On a clear day, you really can see forever - you just have to look. I may be rancid butter, but I'm on your side of the bread. Inherit the Wind.FAMILY – A father who was emotionally absent, a mother who provided all the necessities of life and nothing more. An older brother who is a classic socio-psychopath and made my childhood a misery. I hide from everything just to survive. My right of passage came when I was 18 and joined the Naval Air Reserves. In boot camp I hide in the back row the first day, and guess whose name they called to be the Company Commander – me. But it was the best thing that could have happened and I bless that moment. I had to lead those 50 plus men and boys for 90 days. The night of graduation we drilled in front of the audience and it was perfect. The guys carried me from the hangar in triumph. I came out of the shadows that summer and never went back. I'm a louse when it comes to cleaning house, too many other more enjoyable things to do.“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a Line,Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”Omar Khayyam

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      Book preview

      Death of a Pope Birth of Hope - J.T. Evergreen

      Acknowledgements

      Many thanks to Khris Lawrentz for his tireless proofreading.

      Prelude to Murder

      The Bishop of Rome approached the small wooden door hidden in a storage room of Casa Santa Marta, the residence of visiting clerics. He guessed the tiny door could easily be mistaken for a storage cabinet — it was no larger than 2 feet wide by 5 feet tall. There was nothing to identify it but he knew its name. It was called Cancello del Paradiso; and it was off limits to everyone except for him and the gardeners. He inserted his key into the escutcheon and heard the lock tumble as he turned the key. The door bounced open an inch. He replaced the key in his pocket and pulled the door open.

      Beyond the doorway lay the lush gardens that were provided for his personal use. It was there for him to meditate, to be with God. He bent his head slightly and stepped sideways through the doorway to preserve the cleanliness of his cassock. His housekeeper would give him ‘the look’ over the rims of her glasses should he dirty it intentionally. When he reached the other side, he left the door ajar as he had asked one of the sisters to bring tea.

      He sighed as he turned and gazed upon the beauty of the garden. While he was there, he would leave behind the heavy burdens of the position he held as head of the Catholic Church, and become, for a few moments, Raffaele Vincenzo Valentini again, the simple man of God he had been before accepting his destiny as Pontiff.

      As he moved toward the bubbling fountain at the center of the garden, he noticed the figure of a priest sitting quietly on one of the benches. He thought it odd, seeing the door had been locked and there was no other entrance or exit within the garden. He approached the figure from behind. Before he could say anything, the priest sensed his presence, got up and turned to Raffaele. He was about to genuflect when the Pontiff waved his hand, None of that.

      Raffaele paused in front of the priest and looked deeply into the beautiful face of the young man. He felt a spiritual quality emanating from him the likes of which he had never experienced from anyone else. Though it was still April and the flowering plants in the garden were dormant, he noticed the distinct perfume of roses and other flowers surrounding him. He smiled at the priest. The priest smiled back.

      Finally, Raffaele asked, Who are you and what are you doing here?

      My name is Frederick Monahan. Please call me Freddie, and I’ve come to talk with you.

      Raffaele knew immediately who was standing before him. He was speechless as he tried to grasp what was happening.

      Perhaps you would care to sit, Holy Father.

      Raffaele, please, and yes, that is an excellent idea. They settled on a semicircular stone bench which allowed them to face one another in comfort.

      As they sat in silence, small birds began to gather about the fountain to drink of its water. Two of them flew over and landed on Freddie’s knee. He put his hand out and one of the little birds jumped onto his hand. Looks like a Black-Capped Chickadee. He held it up to eye level. Hi there, little guy. Freddie crooned to the bird. Then another flew up and landed on his hand, next to the first. Must be its mate. Four more flew from the fountain and managed to get on Freddie’s hand. They squawked with their beaks open and their wings fluttering. Raffaele and Freddie laughed at the antics of these small, beautiful birds. Looks like the whole family is on my hand.

      It does indeed. Raffaele was all smiles.

      Freddie finally raised his hand and sent them on their way. Another bird landed on Freddie’s shoulder. He could not see it properly and asked Raffaele, who he knew was a birder, for identification of the small creature. Raffaele moved closer to Freddie for a better view. It looks like a Thrush, but I can’t identify it exactly.

      Soon the bubbling fountain was populated with all varieties of small

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