Father Angelo, 1849- 1850
As I was in the courtyard of the church I saw a young boy praying by the statue of the Holy Mother. He was wearing very simple clothes and had on a white mask. I didn't bother to talk to him, for I was contemplating something important and it is not right to disturb someone while praying.
He sat there for many hours, sometimes he prayed while other times he just looked at the statue. Finally, when he was about to leave I approached the boy.
"My son, what bothers you enough to pray for over 4 hours?" I asked.
"A dear friend of mine has passed and I felt that it would only be proper to pray for the dead soul," he answered as he stared at the ground.
"Do you have somewhere to stay?" I asked having the feeling that he was all alone in the world, and being a priest I could not let a young lamb of God wander without a shepherd.
"No, but I will find away Father," he said as he started to walk away.
"I will not allow you to wander the streets like a beggar when I could have done something," I said trying to persuade the young boy to stay at the convent.
"You do not want me here, I am not a child of God, if there is a God," he said.
"You silly boy, of course you belong here, everyone is a child of God, now what's your name and how old are you?"
"I am Erik and I have 15 years on this body, may I ask who you are?" he said as he bowed gracefully, a very Persian bow.
"I am Father Angelo. You are very polite for a boy of 15 years. Now child what is wrong," I asked sensing I had asked a very complicated question. For this boy was odd, he wore a mask yet was very handsome and then he was much too mature for a 15-year-old.
"Would you like me to start from the absolute beginning?" he asked as he walked along side me.
"Yes boy, start from the beginning," I said as I led him to the Vatican. He seemed anxious to start telling his story and I was willing to listen God permitting nothing happened before the story ended.
He started the story from his third year; he couldn't remember anything before that. He told me of a fire, a terrible accident, and the trouble it caused his family. He also mentioned a strange man, a cat, and a murder in an odd way he made it seem like it was someone else's childhood because he spoke in 3rd person while telling the story.
Many other things arose as he was talking, but nothing about the mask or its purpose. Then the boy changed the subject completely.
"Father, what do you suppose would happen to an animal's soul?" he asked me inquisitively.
"I have no idea child, you shouldn't worry though, you're not an animal," I said looking on the brighter side. "Why don't you come in now? You are a mess and you look as pale as a ghost," I led him in and drew a bath for the boy. He seemed grateful so I went about my business as the boy bathed.
I invited him to stay at the monastery and he accepted without any qualms. I gave him a room in the Southern portion of the priest quarters. No one ever went there and it was fine with my colleagues. When he went into the main hall his eyes glittered at the sight of the organ.
I showed him the ivory keys and he touched them with care and sweetness. I took out some of my old music and showed it to him. He immediately picked it up; he was a better organist than Vinny, our regular organ player.
It was getting late and the boy looked tired so I led him to his room. It was simple and he seemed to like it, a very secretive place. Also, when he was in the room he seldom made any noise, he seemed like a phantom, even when he walked he made no noise.
On Fridays he would send a letter to someone. I never read them, I did not believe in the intrusion of privacy. Once he asked me to read it, but I refused, it was his writing and I would not critique him. He would also receive letters, but they were thicker than his and I am guessing from a girl, as the envelopes were pink.
As a surprise, two months after his arrival I let Erik play the organ at a mass. It was not the most intelligent thing I have ever done. There was a sermon on Hell and damnation. He listened intently as I talked about right and wrong and looked at me in total confusion. I was guessing he didn't know the difference between either of them. After the mass he walked to his room and pulled out the Bible and read about the falling of the angel Lucifer and the damnation of souls.
I didn't bother to explain, because he probably comprehended it better than I did. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew more than I, he was a genius, his architectural comprehension and breakdown of the Vatican was amazing, he found every fault and strong point of the building. I never thought that he had the intellect to figure out such a thing until he showed and explained to me his theories and ideas on the enhancement of the structure of the Vatican.
More and more Erik stayed away from the main body of the church and went in his room to read the Bible. In three months he completely stayed away from the church. Some of the other fathers said that he was Satan's child, a boy from Hell, but I couldn't agree. How could someone so intelligent be a damned soul at such a young age?
I was ready to talk to the boy; he went into a basic form of recluse, only leaving for food. The child was so engrossed in staying away from people he wouldn't even leave his room to play the organ. It was my entire fault; I made him play on the day that I lectured on Hell. How I deserved to rot in the bowls of Hell as a person.
I never saw him anymore; the only way I knew he was there was because he would leave his dish outside the door when he was done. I never heard the door open or shut. He was silent; sometimes I thought he was a figment of my imagination. That was until the day one of the men got to close to him.
It was in March of 1850 when this happened. From what I've been told Erik was reading when Father Seterini came up to him. The father let his curiosity get the best of himself and wanted to see what was behind the mask. He removed the mask from behind Erik's head and turned the boy around. Then, the father cringed at the sight of the boy's deformity and Erik pulled out a dagger and stabbed the father in the head. When he realized what he had done another father saw him running away covered in blood and we never saw him again.
As I was in the courtyard of the church I saw a young boy praying by the statue of the Holy Mother. He was wearing very simple clothes and had on a white mask. I didn't bother to talk to him, for I was contemplating something important and it is not right to disturb someone while praying.
He sat there for many hours, sometimes he prayed while other times he just looked at the statue. Finally, when he was about to leave I approached the boy.
"My son, what bothers you enough to pray for over 4 hours?" I asked.
"A dear friend of mine has passed and I felt that it would only be proper to pray for the dead soul," he answered as he stared at the ground.
"Do you have somewhere to stay?" I asked having the feeling that he was all alone in the world, and being a priest I could not let a young lamb of God wander without a shepherd.
"No, but I will find away Father," he said as he started to walk away.
"I will not allow you to wander the streets like a beggar when I could have done something," I said trying to persuade the young boy to stay at the convent.
"You do not want me here, I am not a child of God, if there is a God," he said.
"You silly boy, of course you belong here, everyone is a child of God, now what's your name and how old are you?"
"I am Erik and I have 15 years on this body, may I ask who you are?" he said as he bowed gracefully, a very Persian bow.
"I am Father Angelo. You are very polite for a boy of 15 years. Now child what is wrong," I asked sensing I had asked a very complicated question. For this boy was odd, he wore a mask yet was very handsome and then he was much too mature for a 15-year-old.
"Would you like me to start from the absolute beginning?" he asked as he walked along side me.
"Yes boy, start from the beginning," I said as I led him to the Vatican. He seemed anxious to start telling his story and I was willing to listen God permitting nothing happened before the story ended.
He started the story from his third year; he couldn't remember anything before that. He told me of a fire, a terrible accident, and the trouble it caused his family. He also mentioned a strange man, a cat, and a murder in an odd way he made it seem like it was someone else's childhood because he spoke in 3rd person while telling the story.
Many other things arose as he was talking, but nothing about the mask or its purpose. Then the boy changed the subject completely.
"Father, what do you suppose would happen to an animal's soul?" he asked me inquisitively.
"I have no idea child, you shouldn't worry though, you're not an animal," I said looking on the brighter side. "Why don't you come in now? You are a mess and you look as pale as a ghost," I led him in and drew a bath for the boy. He seemed grateful so I went about my business as the boy bathed.
I invited him to stay at the monastery and he accepted without any qualms. I gave him a room in the Southern portion of the priest quarters. No one ever went there and it was fine with my colleagues. When he went into the main hall his eyes glittered at the sight of the organ.
I showed him the ivory keys and he touched them with care and sweetness. I took out some of my old music and showed it to him. He immediately picked it up; he was a better organist than Vinny, our regular organ player.
It was getting late and the boy looked tired so I led him to his room. It was simple and he seemed to like it, a very secretive place. Also, when he was in the room he seldom made any noise, he seemed like a phantom, even when he walked he made no noise.
On Fridays he would send a letter to someone. I never read them, I did not believe in the intrusion of privacy. Once he asked me to read it, but I refused, it was his writing and I would not critique him. He would also receive letters, but they were thicker than his and I am guessing from a girl, as the envelopes were pink.
As a surprise, two months after his arrival I let Erik play the organ at a mass. It was not the most intelligent thing I have ever done. There was a sermon on Hell and damnation. He listened intently as I talked about right and wrong and looked at me in total confusion. I was guessing he didn't know the difference between either of them. After the mass he walked to his room and pulled out the Bible and read about the falling of the angel Lucifer and the damnation of souls.
I didn't bother to explain, because he probably comprehended it better than I did. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew more than I, he was a genius, his architectural comprehension and breakdown of the Vatican was amazing, he found every fault and strong point of the building. I never thought that he had the intellect to figure out such a thing until he showed and explained to me his theories and ideas on the enhancement of the structure of the Vatican.
More and more Erik stayed away from the main body of the church and went in his room to read the Bible. In three months he completely stayed away from the church. Some of the other fathers said that he was Satan's child, a boy from Hell, but I couldn't agree. How could someone so intelligent be a damned soul at such a young age?
I was ready to talk to the boy; he went into a basic form of recluse, only leaving for food. The child was so engrossed in staying away from people he wouldn't even leave his room to play the organ. It was my entire fault; I made him play on the day that I lectured on Hell. How I deserved to rot in the bowls of Hell as a person.
I never saw him anymore; the only way I knew he was there was because he would leave his dish outside the door when he was done. I never heard the door open or shut. He was silent; sometimes I thought he was a figment of my imagination. That was until the day one of the men got to close to him.
It was in March of 1850 when this happened. From what I've been told Erik was reading when Father Seterini came up to him. The father let his curiosity get the best of himself and wanted to see what was behind the mask. He removed the mask from behind Erik's head and turned the boy around. Then, the father cringed at the sight of the boy's deformity and Erik pulled out a dagger and stabbed the father in the head. When he realized what he had done another father saw him running away covered in blood and we never saw him again.
