disciple (ch. 12)
by Tom Stuckey
12
The Pope was to give his regular Sunday Angelus in St Peters Square, but with the riots being what they were, it was sure to be anything other than ordinary. The riots had been started by the USA’s invasion of Greenland, inflamed by the killing of an Italian mother who had recently take up residence there. It was an inevitable case of “civilian casualty of war” but was so much more volatile because of its nature of religious fracturing: It was Christian on Christian this time, and that left the people of Rome angered beyond measure.
“Thomas will go to the Sunday Angelus.” Olivia now slept in my room, but she still knew everything about Thomas, maybe even more so now.
“Yes, we should go too.” I admitted.
“I must, as well, and see my mother. She’ll be worried.”
“I’d like to come to see her with you.”
“She’d like that; she likes English men. She thinks they are all like Roger Moore.”
“We are deep down…” Olivia smiled and rolled over in the bed, her nakedness astounding me. “..and that makes you a bond girl.”
“I like that. I feel like a bond girl, maybe one with a dark side that likes the goodies and the baddies.”
“Ahh, I see Olivia has a shadow side, too.”
“You know that’s not my name, but I like that you call me that. I can be something new every time now, my past is non-existent with you, at least not here in this room.”
“Good, our pasts have claimed enough of our time already.”
“I have a feeling that the highest member of The Catholic Church is about to meet a real saint. Should we be worried?”
“I am a little, yes.” I picked up my phone that had some un-read messages, and I wished I hadn’t.
The first was from F, saying that he would also be going to the Angelus; the second was a voice note from Santino, which I played:
HOLD THE BUTTON DOWN YOU FOOL (CARDINAL PETER)
MARK AS YOU ARE AWARE THERE ARE GOING TO BE PROTESTS AND A SPECIAL ANGELUS TODAY. WE ARE ALSO AWARE OF THOMAS HAVING BEEN SPOTTED AMOUNGST THE PROTESTORS, IT IS A TIME WHEN THEY NEED THE CHURCH AND THEIR LEADER, THE POPE. ALSO HE HAS BEEN SEEN AT THE HOSPITALS AND AMOUNGSTTHE HOMELESS, AND AS MUCH AS YOU WANT TO BELIVE HE IS A SAINT, HE IS NOT, THERE IS ONLY ONE SAINT IN ROME AND IT IS THE POPE.
TELL HIM ABOUT THE RATS (C. PETER)
AH YES THE RATS, WE KNOW ABOUT THE RATS TOO, AND WE HAVE HAD TO SHUT OFF THE GROUND FLOOR THAT IS LINKED TO THE TUNNEL SYSTEM…SOME OF THE CARDIALS ARE ALSO STARTING TO TALK….
THIS WILL NOT END WELL FOR YOU MARK!!! (C. PETER)
I CAN DO IT, I CAN DO IT.
WELL DO IT THEN!!
I WILL BUT I IMPLORE YOU TO PLEASE STOP SHOUTING.
YOU BETTER….
The message ended, but it was clear of one thing, Thomas was beginning to get to the heart of the church, and I began to feel more and more indifference.
“You obviously need to go to these protests,” I said un-resolutely—all I wanted to do is stay in this room with her and forget about the church and the riots and the Pope.
“Yes.”
I decided not to go to the protests, or the Sunday Angelus, or with Olivia to see Thomas. It was clear now: I was no longer physically connected to him. I explained this the best I could to Olivia, and she seemed to realise it, too, and agreed to come back later, although somehow I already knew that she wouldn’t, not like this though, in her naked perfection. She would be halved. "You will come and see my mother?" She had asked, and I agreed. People pass over time, like notes of a score, and the more you play the tune the more the original concept fades from the one stuck in your mind. I knew I had to go and find my way. I knew it was lone, physically anyway. I had a sense of self that I had never known before, but I still switched on the T.V. and was weirdly happy to find Love Island on, as if I had now synched my being to the shows airing times. The outcast man was now alone (it seemed), and his rejection had been severe and absolute. The outcast woman was now back in the main group, after making a plea to them, having made up lies about the man’s conduct in order to be saved. She was now mating freely within the main group, having a replenished air of newness, where the men found their cocks growing as she skimped at the pool side. The other women were obviously angry but could not let on and had to support their fellow “sister” in her hour of need. She would likely go on to be one half of the winning duo. The outcast man, on the other hand, looked out from his solitary hut at the ocean’s expanse, and finally understood what it all meant. I decided to go and use the hotel’s sauna and then take a walk along the streets of Rome before meeting Olivia mother.
*Read the next instqallment of Tom Stuckey’s new novella Disciple coming on April 7, 2026, at 6PM CST.
Photo of Tom Stuckey
BIO: Tom is a writer from Devon in England. His work can be found at A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Bristol Noir, Nut House Press, and Pulp Magazine. He is the author of The Canary in the Dream is Dead and The Sun Marches upon Us All. Learn more about Tom Stuckey at www.tomstuckey.com.