Vanishing of Venice , livre ebook

The Vanishing of Venice
Dianah Chorlton
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-01-31
The Vanishing of Venice About the Author Dedication Copyright Information Acknowledgements In the Beginning Chapter 1: Bird’s Eye View The Previous Evening But the door, the door is still open. Signore! Signore! Shut the door! The Following Day Chapter 2: La Luna Di Miele Il Mercato Chapter 3: La Turista Chapter 4: Il Padre La Gondola Nero Chapter 5: Shadow of Evil Corpo Morto Chapter 6: La Riunione Deep Remorse Chapter 7: L’ Invito Chapter 8: In the Heat of the Day Chapter 9: The Council Meeting Police Interrogation …How be it, we are cast upon this island… …he then heard them speak with tongues… …And suddenly, there fell upon him a mist within the darkness… …therefore, did thine heart rejoice… Chapter 10: In the Heat of the Night Prime Witnesses …what mean you to weep and to break thy heart…? Lust and Lies …repent, therefore, of thy wickedness… The Vow …and seek him out… Wrath of the Devil …for the place where we stand is holy ground… …repent, and be converted that your sins may be cast out, when the time of cleansing will come Under the Bridge …oh full of subtlety and mischief, you child of the Devil… La Pistola Untold Confession …a temptress came to hearken… The Surprise Chapter 11: The Apocalypse …thy God who has created heaven and earth and the sea and all that is… …he was led as a swine to the slaughter… …behold, the heavens have opened… …and there before me stood a man in bright clothing… Silence fell… Yes, to be fully initiated he’d had to act as the bait. And then, kill. …you have taken, and by wicked hands you have slain… The Funeral of Lee Yan …his wife being privy to it… The Hangover …and they went down into the water… Repent You Harlot …but now, command the all to repent… La Partenza …in her heart, she felt ecstatic. Patience is a Virtue Chapter 12: The Heavens Cry …thou art God, which hast made heaven and earth and the sea… …and after they’d prayed, the place was shaken, where they’d assembled… …and great fear fell upon the church… …fear fell on them all… …forthwith the doors were shut… …but the high priest came, and they were with him, the keepers before the doors… …repent every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins… …does any man forbid water…? …the angel of the dark opened the prison doors, and brought them forth… …suddenly, there came a sound from hell, …immediately, there fell upon him a mist and a darkness… …blood, fire, and the vapour of smoke… …therefore, my heart rejoiced, and thy tongue was glad… …more over my flesh shall rest in hope… …because thou will not leave my soul in hell… …all hope of being saved was thus taken away… …behold, the men put in prison are in the temple, teaching the mass… …and thy damsel harkened… …pray God, if, perhaps, thy heart may be forgiven thee… …repent ye, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out… …when the times of refreshing shall come… …from the presence of our Lord… …that they should seek the Lord, and find him, though, he be not far from any of us… …the twelve called upon the multitude of disciples unto them… …and there, the evil spirits went out of them… …Blood turned everything crimson… …the sun will be turned into darkness and the moon into blood… …before that notable day of the Lord comes… …under humiliation his judgment was taken away… To Sin Is to Die …as for this sect, we know that everywhere it is spoken against… …and there, before them, appeared cloven tongues like as fire… …every one of you be baptised in the name of Jesus Christ… Hell’s Fury …for the remission of sins… …rise, and stand up onto your feet… …and they both went down into the water… …thus the hinder part was broken within the violence of the waves… …everybody committed themselves into the sea… …command all the men everywhere to repent… …and we were exceedingly tossed by a tempest… …In the year 3000 A.D…
About the Author
Dianah Chorlton was born in Adelaide, South Australia. She now lives with her English-born husband, Robert, along the picturesque coastline of Sydney’s Northern Beaches. Practising as a Natural Therapist, she conducts her healing treatments from home to a faithful following of clientele.
Dedication
Dedicated to Robert Ian Bruce, who shared three memorable days with me; and to all who have been touched by the ‘Magic of Venezia’.
Copyright Information

Copyright © Dianah Chorlton (2019)
The right of Dianah Chorlton to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528902335 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528944632 (E-Book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgements
Appreciation to my husband, Robert, for his technical assistance and critique, and to Peter Perisher for his evenings spent on proofreading.
In the Beginning
A thunderous moan bellowed across the clear blue sky. The treacherous cry of ice cracking vibrated along the expansive Icelandic waters. A hot wind blew as the newborn freed itself from its parental landscape. Tremors shook the earth and the ocean raged. Bobbing up and down amidst the torrent of waves, the islet left an ugly bite upon the continent as it floated away, off into oblivion.
Chapter 1: Bird’s Eye View
With wings spread wide, the seagull flew over the domed tower of the church, safely missing the sharp point of its spire. Avoiding the stench, wafting up from the rapidly rising morning tide, the gull soared over the red-tiled rooftops with confidence, as its instincts recalled how the abundance of high-rise architecture on the island would always provide a safe haven for Venice’s feathered friends.
Beady, black eyes surveyed the view below, the activity in St. Mark’s Square, as it always was, a bustling hive of traders pushing trolleys laden with crates of wine and food, urgently heading for eagerly awaiting restaurant and café owners.
Venetians, accustomed to making their deliveries early before the square became obstructed by the flood of water, which happened all too frequently of late.
With a final flap of its well-preened wings, the gull landed on the raised foot of one of the replica horses, standing in a frozen canter upon the loggia of St. Mark’s. Poking its beak under its left wing, it caught a flea and ate it. While inquisitively its eyes were drawn down into the square, where in front of the basilica it watched a gang of council workers swiftly erecting wooden planks for the impending stampede of tourists to trek upon. How quickly humans can cover things up as if nothing had ever happened! the bird’s brain registered, as it focused upon the workers placing a long beam of timber over a metal frame in the exact spot where only the night before the gull had witnessed the crumpled body lying dead in a pool of blood.

The Previous Evening
Thick clouds hung in the air, with the promise of rain. A blazing shade of red glowed behind them, declaring the summer sun was about to sink down into the horizon. Alone, the gull soared through the ominous sky. Its interest, abruptly, captured upon an object below as it ran frantically along a dark, narrow laneway.
Gasping for air. And fuelled with fear. The creature stumbled over the cobbled stones of the pavement. Strange? Its two legs appeared to barely hold it upright. Querying the nature of the object, the gull flew in and around the rooftops to gain a better advantage point. Sensing the creature’s panic, it voyeuristically flew low, while flapping its wings hard to keep up with the frantic pace of the rodent. No! Not a rodent! A human being, it suddenly registered, assisted by the glow of a solitary street lamp.
The horrid sound of grunting and whimsical pleading confirmed the human was desperate to escape. But from what? What filled the human’s thumping heart, which the gull vowed it could clearly hear, with such terror? And what was that? Was that a shifting shadow?
Landing onto a corner of guttering attached to St. Mark’s Basilica, the bird observed the human as he almost fell up the stairs leading into the church alcove. His sanctuary? Alas! How unfortunate, the door would be locked!
Curiously, the gull stared down to watch the human’s reactions to save himself as the shadow mysteriously appeared from behind. It moved swiftly. And with purpose. As it stalked its prey. Terrified, his entrapment to be at a critical point. A loud gasp of fright bellowed forth the human’s lungs as his clenched fists flew wildly up against the solid wooden door. Banging hard, his beat of desperation echoed into the night.
“She was a trollop! I paid her!” the human screamed, swinging around to find the shadow almost upon him. “Please! Let me in, let me in! This bastard is crazy!” The gull watched the human ferociously pound the rigid door, where mercifully his begging was answered and the cedar door creaked, wide open.
“Thank you, oh, thank you!” the gull heard the human gratefully dribble, as it watched him push his way in through the doorway, his footsteps heard urgently running into the belly of the basilica.

But the door, the door is still open. Signore! Signore! Shut the door!
The shadow moved with precision. Casually and methodically, its dark entity floated through the open door, thrusting it shut behind it, as it pursued the smell of fear. It inhaled the foul stink of the hunted, where its blend