Summer of 1918
The cathedral built on the burned down remnants of the late King Lombardi's palace outside Venice was finally complete. When the gunpowder reserves under the palace had mysteriously gone up in flames and taken the king with them, people had avoided the site as cursed. The Pope thought differently. Perhaps to appease the Italians, the Pope ordered a grand cathedral built on the estate, right where Lombardi had met his end. The grand building towered over the flat landscape covered with vineyards, now worked by priests and laymen. Now all those men were gathered in the cathedral, admiring the finished product. Not a single soul there even remembered what the site had been before Lombardi had taken it for his own.
The priests and honoured guests sat in the freshly polished pews, admiring the stained glass windows and exquisite art depicting various religious scenes important to the Catholic Church. The pulpit remained empty, for His Holiness himself was said to be arriving soon to bless the cathedral with his presence. A shadowy figure lurking just out of sight had no intention of allowing the Pope to ever set foot in the cathedral. As the guests all gathered in the cathedral, the figure sneaked away to begin the first part of his scheme.
As the guests took their seats, a loud ruckus erupted. The sound of clanging metal filled the air and the doors slammed shut with a loud thud. The windows rattled as though the wind had picked up suddenly. People muttered to each other, unsure of what was happening. Some brave soul went to open the door, only to find that it was barred from the outside. As word spread that they were trapped, panic started to set in. Time for the second phase.
A burst of flame erupted from behind the pulpit. People screamed in shock, and then screamed again as a figure emerged from the smoke to stand before them. He wore the finest vestments and a golden crown. His skin was ghostly pale and covered in soot. He glared down at the people in attendance and shouted, "Fear me, mortals, for your king has returned and he finds you wanting. You built this site of God upon my grave, but know this, people of Italy, that there is only one man worth your veneration and that is me, your glorious king, the Great Lombardi!"
A woman fainted and people scurried to the door, trying to ram it open. They hurried even more when another burst of flame erupted from behind Lombardi's ghost. The ghost cackled wickedly, his voice echoing through the cathedral. Time for phase three.
"You dare flee from your king!" Lombardi screeched. "Witness my power and know that you have made a grave mistake." The ghost raised his hand to the ceiling, pointing the the chandelier suspended above. It immediately started to sway and dropped ever so slightly. Lombardi swept his other hand up in a grand gesture. The chandelier suddenly broke free and plummeted to the floor. It crashed amongst the pews, now unoccupied as people gathered around the blocked doorway, the bang reverberating throughout the room.
Lombardi was not quite done yet. He waved his hand towards a painting hanging on the wall. It showed Christ at the Last Supper, but the Pope had been put in the place of Jesus. What was with these rulers of Italy and their vanity? As Lombardi waved his hand that way, flames burst from the floor, engulfing the painting. The frame cracked and the painted parchment crinkled up into blackened ash. Lombardi laughed and pointed to another painting. More flames burst forth to burn the painting away. The crowd was screaming in fear and beating against the door to get out. Now for the finale.
"Know that your king is gracious and willing to release you from this prison in exchange for your undying loyalty. But let it be known that there will be no false rulers. There is but one king, and that is me. The Pope shall never reign over my kingdom." Raising his hands to the heavens, Lombardi let out a long cackle. A piercing sound filled the air, forcing everyone to cover their ears. Then the grandest of the stained glass windows, one depicting the Pope in all his self-obsessed glory, shattered in a million pieces. The people screamed as glass fell down upon them.
The people seemed on verge of entering a frenzy, nearly trampling each other to get at the door. As they rushed it again, it suddenly swung open and the crowd rushed into the open. They fled one by one into the countryside, getting as far from the haunted cathedral as possible. As the last of them left, Lombardi grinned and stepped down from the pulpit.
"Well, men, I believe you more than earned your pay with that display." Lombardi grabbed his sleeve and wiped the face paint and fake soot from his face, revealing the features of Donatello Favero. Some hidden staircases opened on the walls as men in overalls stepped into the cathedral, grins on their faces. They gathered around Donatello, slapping each other on the back. Donatello eyed them all in turn. "The pyro effects were fantastic. I had no idea you could control fire like that."
"Well with the proper amount of explosives in a contained environment," one worker said, "you can pull off some amazing things."
"I nearly lost my composure when that chandelier fell," Donatello said with a smirk.
"I doubt you'd be laughing if it fell on your head though when I cut that rope," another worker said.
Donatello turned to a worker wearing glasses. "Good job with the stained glass. I almost feared it wouldn't shatter."
"Well with the right frequency of noise adjusted for the consistency of the glass, you can manage such a thing with ease."
Donatello shook hands with all of them one by one. These men had all been part of the crew that built the cathedral, and he'd paid them quite handsomely for their part in his scheme, much more than the cheapskate Pope was willing to pay them for their honest labour. They had been the ones to set up the traps, building hidden staircases and a secret room under the cathedral from where they could erupt the flames and control the other fake haunting phenomena. They certainly had more fun under his employ. But there was still one last thing to do.
"Well, men, it's been a pleasure," Donatello said as a couple more workers entered the cathedral with barrels of gunpowder. They placed them strategically around the room and laid a trail of powder right to the door. The workers followed the Senator to the door, where he pulled out a match and lit the trail. He closed the door behind him. "Shall we?"
They immediately scattered to the vineyards, not stopping their run until they heard the first explosion. Fortunately, they were far enough away when the barrels exploded. The remaining windows shattered as flames erupted from every opening. Smoke billowed from inside the cathedral. The freshly lacquered pews surely provided more than enough fuel to keep the flames going. As Donatello fled to the countryside, he was pleased to see the smoke spiralling higher and higher as the cathedral burned to the ground.
Donatello was well on his way to Venice and from then on to Constantinople when the Pope finally arrived at the cathedral. He had seen the smoke from afar and quickened the pace of his caravan. When he arrived, he found his new cathedral up in flames. A terrified priest rushed towards him and screamed, "It was the ghost of Lombardi! He's returned to seek vengeance!"
The Pope rolled his eyes and ordered his caravan to turn back around. There was nothing for him here now. It was better that he leave this accursed estate alone. Nothing good ever happened there anyway.
The cathedral built on the burned down remnants of the late King Lombardi's palace outside Venice was finally complete. When the gunpowder reserves under the palace had mysteriously gone up in flames and taken the king with them, people had avoided the site as cursed. The Pope thought differently. Perhaps to appease the Italians, the Pope ordered a grand cathedral built on the estate, right where Lombardi had met his end. The grand building towered over the flat landscape covered with vineyards, now worked by priests and laymen. Now all those men were gathered in the cathedral, admiring the finished product. Not a single soul there even remembered what the site had been before Lombardi had taken it for his own.
The priests and honoured guests sat in the freshly polished pews, admiring the stained glass windows and exquisite art depicting various religious scenes important to the Catholic Church. The pulpit remained empty, for His Holiness himself was said to be arriving soon to bless the cathedral with his presence. A shadowy figure lurking just out of sight had no intention of allowing the Pope to ever set foot in the cathedral. As the guests all gathered in the cathedral, the figure sneaked away to begin the first part of his scheme.
As the guests took their seats, a loud ruckus erupted. The sound of clanging metal filled the air and the doors slammed shut with a loud thud. The windows rattled as though the wind had picked up suddenly. People muttered to each other, unsure of what was happening. Some brave soul went to open the door, only to find that it was barred from the outside. As word spread that they were trapped, panic started to set in. Time for the second phase.
A burst of flame erupted from behind the pulpit. People screamed in shock, and then screamed again as a figure emerged from the smoke to stand before them. He wore the finest vestments and a golden crown. His skin was ghostly pale and covered in soot. He glared down at the people in attendance and shouted, "Fear me, mortals, for your king has returned and he finds you wanting. You built this site of God upon my grave, but know this, people of Italy, that there is only one man worth your veneration and that is me, your glorious king, the Great Lombardi!"
A woman fainted and people scurried to the door, trying to ram it open. They hurried even more when another burst of flame erupted from behind Lombardi's ghost. The ghost cackled wickedly, his voice echoing through the cathedral. Time for phase three.
"You dare flee from your king!" Lombardi screeched. "Witness my power and know that you have made a grave mistake." The ghost raised his hand to the ceiling, pointing the the chandelier suspended above. It immediately started to sway and dropped ever so slightly. Lombardi swept his other hand up in a grand gesture. The chandelier suddenly broke free and plummeted to the floor. It crashed amongst the pews, now unoccupied as people gathered around the blocked doorway, the bang reverberating throughout the room.
Lombardi was not quite done yet. He waved his hand towards a painting hanging on the wall. It showed Christ at the Last Supper, but the Pope had been put in the place of Jesus. What was with these rulers of Italy and their vanity? As Lombardi waved his hand that way, flames burst from the floor, engulfing the painting. The frame cracked and the painted parchment crinkled up into blackened ash. Lombardi laughed and pointed to another painting. More flames burst forth to burn the painting away. The crowd was screaming in fear and beating against the door to get out. Now for the finale.
"Know that your king is gracious and willing to release you from this prison in exchange for your undying loyalty. But let it be known that there will be no false rulers. There is but one king, and that is me. The Pope shall never reign over my kingdom." Raising his hands to the heavens, Lombardi let out a long cackle. A piercing sound filled the air, forcing everyone to cover their ears. Then the grandest of the stained glass windows, one depicting the Pope in all his self-obsessed glory, shattered in a million pieces. The people screamed as glass fell down upon them.
The people seemed on verge of entering a frenzy, nearly trampling each other to get at the door. As they rushed it again, it suddenly swung open and the crowd rushed into the open. They fled one by one into the countryside, getting as far from the haunted cathedral as possible. As the last of them left, Lombardi grinned and stepped down from the pulpit.
"Well, men, I believe you more than earned your pay with that display." Lombardi grabbed his sleeve and wiped the face paint and fake soot from his face, revealing the features of Donatello Favero. Some hidden staircases opened on the walls as men in overalls stepped into the cathedral, grins on their faces. They gathered around Donatello, slapping each other on the back. Donatello eyed them all in turn. "The pyro effects were fantastic. I had no idea you could control fire like that."
"Well with the proper amount of explosives in a contained environment," one worker said, "you can pull off some amazing things."
"I nearly lost my composure when that chandelier fell," Donatello said with a smirk.
"I doubt you'd be laughing if it fell on your head though when I cut that rope," another worker said.
Donatello turned to a worker wearing glasses. "Good job with the stained glass. I almost feared it wouldn't shatter."
"Well with the right frequency of noise adjusted for the consistency of the glass, you can manage such a thing with ease."
Donatello shook hands with all of them one by one. These men had all been part of the crew that built the cathedral, and he'd paid them quite handsomely for their part in his scheme, much more than the cheapskate Pope was willing to pay them for their honest labour. They had been the ones to set up the traps, building hidden staircases and a secret room under the cathedral from where they could erupt the flames and control the other fake haunting phenomena. They certainly had more fun under his employ. But there was still one last thing to do.
"Well, men, it's been a pleasure," Donatello said as a couple more workers entered the cathedral with barrels of gunpowder. They placed them strategically around the room and laid a trail of powder right to the door. The workers followed the Senator to the door, where he pulled out a match and lit the trail. He closed the door behind him. "Shall we?"
They immediately scattered to the vineyards, not stopping their run until they heard the first explosion. Fortunately, they were far enough away when the barrels exploded. The remaining windows shattered as flames erupted from every opening. Smoke billowed from inside the cathedral. The freshly lacquered pews surely provided more than enough fuel to keep the flames going. As Donatello fled to the countryside, he was pleased to see the smoke spiralling higher and higher as the cathedral burned to the ground.
Donatello was well on his way to Venice and from then on to Constantinople when the Pope finally arrived at the cathedral. He had seen the smoke from afar and quickened the pace of his caravan. When he arrived, he found his new cathedral up in flames. A terrified priest rushed towards him and screamed, "It was the ghost of Lombardi! He's returned to seek vengeance!"
The Pope rolled his eyes and ordered his caravan to turn back around. There was nothing for him here now. It was better that he leave this accursed estate alone. Nothing good ever happened there anyway.
- 1
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