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86 pages

English

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All the good men and women, past and present, who shone a light for others to follow, had their own share of demons to conquer, and they emerged victorious. Malcolm is a young Harvard graduate visiting Italy. He befriends an enigmatic priest who offers to give him a tour of the Duomo Cathedral. The truth unfolds; this so-called priest is actually the devil, and he is after Malcolm's soul! In their travels to get to the cathedral, Malcolm and the devil encounter people with various sins. Their names are written in the devil's book; he will claim their souls. Malcolm argues with the devil over the alleged sins of these people while at the same time a little fearful; will the devil take his soul, too?"You may as well call me the devil, for I might as well tell you, I am indeed the devil.""That's impossible; the devil would not dress like a priest, carry the holy book, wear a cross, and work in a church."The devil smiled and said, "Why not?"

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Philosophie et théologie

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Publié par	First Edition Design Publishing
Date de parution	20 mai 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781622878512
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0420€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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The Devil’s Way

First Edition Design Publishing
Sarasota, Florida USA
The Devil’s Way
Copyright ©2015 Lamees A.

ISBN 978-1622-878-50-5 PRINT
ISBN 978-1622-878-51-2 EBOOK

LCCN 2015934672

May 2015

Published and Distributed by
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com

ALL R I G H T S R E S E R V E D. No p a r t o f t h i s b oo k pub li ca t i o n m a y b e r e p r o du ce d, s t o r e d i n a r e t r i e v a l s y s t e m , o r t r a n s mit t e d i n a ny f o r m o r by a ny m e a ns ─ e l e c t r o n i c , m e c h a n i c a l , p h o t o - c o p y , r ec o r d i n g, or a ny o t h e r ─ e x ce pt b r i e f qu ot a t i o n i n r e v i e w s , w i t h o ut t h e p r i o r p e r mi ss i on o f t h e a u t h o r or publisher .
The Devil’s Way
Lamees A.
Chapter 1
The Cloaked One

The only person you are destined to become is
the person you decide to be.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

He walked down the cobbled streets in the old quarters of the city of Florence. A dark cloak-like overcoat hung from his broad shoulders. Though his head was uncovered, from a distance it looked like he was wearing a hood. As he approached closer, one could make out a handsome face, with a few thick strands of hair falling down against his broad forehead and his light-skinned face. He was tall and slim. His jaw was firm and strong; there was an odd lightness about his eyes, and a small curve to his lips, as if there were something terribly funny only he knew the answer to. He had the bearing of a man who exuded authority and confidence without ever having to put any effort to that effect.
He pleasantly nodded to people as they passed by him, and they on their part felt oddly attracted and comforted in his presence. As soon as they walked away from him, they would feel as if they had just recovered from some kind of a magic spell. Enjoying the effect that he had on the people around him, the cloaked one began to whistle softly for his own listening pleasure. He continued to amble his way across the streets and piazzas, lazily surveying the crowds as they went past him. There were a lot of tourists from different corners of the world. There were people from England, France, Japan, Korea, China, and of course, America.
He looked at all of them with a mixture of amused nonchalance and contempt. The wealthy tourists in their famous designer gear were being chaperoned by their well-groomed tour operators. The nouveau riche Asian tourists were carrying their camcorders, cameras, and water bottles, standing out amongst the many young backpackers wearing their worn boots, grubby shirts, and jeans.
One intense-looking young tourist, an American in his early 20s, engaged in an animated discussion with an Italian guide. He caught the cloaked one’s attention, who shall henceforth be known as The Enchanter.
The young man was arguing with the guide over the fee he owed him. “You promised to show me the sunset point that was next to the grand sixteenth-century palace of the Duke of Florence, but I reached it before the sunset, so that entitles me to a discount,” the young man said.
“No, Signore Malcolm ,” protested the guide. “I promised to bring you to sunset point , not at sunset.”
“How can it be the sunset point, when there is no sunset, my friend?” submitted Malcolm.
The Enchanter decided to intervene. “Take the money and be gone,” he ordered the hapless guide, who first had a look of surprise and then of compliance. “Si, Father,” he addressed him, and quietly took the money from Malcolm and slinked away. The Enchanter was indeed a priest, as one could tell from his robes clearly visible under his overcoat.
Malcolm said, “Wow, that was really cool, Your Holiness. You certainly made him see sense very quickly indeed.”
The Enchanter turned to face Malcolm and gave him a soft smile. “I did, didn’t I?” he said in a perfect American accent.
It was Malcolm’s turn to be surprised. “Are you American?”
The Enchanter calmly replied, “Not really. I spent few years working there, but I am Italian.”
“Well, that’s nice to know, and thank you for your help with the guide. I’ll be on my way, I guess. Bye.”
The Enchanter was impressed with Malcolm’s poise and composure in his presence, as most people came under his influence quite easily, and didn’t leave his side so quickly.
The Enchanter in a calm and friendly voice said, “You must be headed to the sights. May I suggest that you visit Florence’s cathedral, the Duomo. You could come with me; I am headed there. I could show you around, and you don’t have to pay me.”
“Well, thanks, that’s so nice of you! Let’s go then.”
Malcolm and The Enchanter set off in the direction of the Duomo Cathedral, walking together through the cobbled pathways of Florence.
“Are you a Harvard graduate?” The Enchanter asked suddenly, after walking for about fifteen minutes.
Visibly startled Malcolm asked, “I am. Are you a mind reader?”
The Enchanter smiled and said, “You could say that, but then your East Coast accent and educated demeanor made it possible for me to make a calculated guess.”
Malcolm smiled, “Sorry, how silly of me to get startled like that. But of course you could hazard an intelligent guess.”
“Ah, Harvard, the repository of everything that is intellectual,” The Enchanter said with a twinkle in his eyes.
“You sound like you don’t agree?”
“Does that offend you?”
Malcolm exclaimed, “Hell no!” Realizing that he was talking to a priest, he quickly apologized. “Sorry, I mean, I don’t think that Harvard is the repository of all knowledge.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me about anything. You want to swear, go right ahead.”
“But you are a priest!”
“What does that have to do with me being a priest?”
“God, you almost talk like the — ” Malcolm checked himself.
“Like the devil!” The Enchanter completed the sentence for him. “Don’t look shocked; you also said God, so you sort of balanced things out. In any case, when you think of one, the other is lurking somewhere nearby.”
“Really, that’s interesting,” said Malcolm, warming up to The Enchanter, now that he had made a philosophical statement, as he was quite interested in matters pertaining to philosophy.

*****

Malcolm Murray the son of the eminent criminal lawyer John Murray and the renowned pediatrician, Betty Murray, had just graduated from Harvard, the alma mater of many brave and noble leaders of the world. Before joining his father’s law firm, Malcolm decided he needed to give himself a year where he would traverse parts of Europe that were familiar to him as a child, and possibly venture afield in the continent to make new discoveries that would please his soul. He sought to find answers to all the questions that were tormenting him concerning life, love, and God.
Malcolm always had this quest to find answers to questions that puzzled him or disturbed him. Above all, he was in search of happiness — not so much for himself, as for everyone in the world. It pained him that while he had everything a man could want from life, there were many around the world who had to grapple with issues like hunger, poverty, and disease.
Yet he did enjoy the life he lived in Boston. His years studying law at Harvard had gone by in a flurry of lectures, presentations, dissertations, sporting contests, occasional dates, and planning for the future. He didn’t feel that he shouldn’t live a good life, just because there were millions of others of his age group barely able to survive. That to him did not solve the problem.
To him it was inexplicable and unconscionable that extreme poverty and squalor could exist, even when mankind had advanced sufficiently to send probes into deep space, and plan to send astronauts to Mars. Why couldn’t the people of the world set their minds to alleviating basic human suffering around the world first and get done with it?
Bertrand Russell, the great twentieth-century philosopher, may have been echoing Malcolm’s point of view when he wrote, “ Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a great ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair. ”
So here he was, Malcolm Murray, a Harvard graduate at the crossroads of life, crisscrossing the cobbled pathways of Florence, being guided towards a cathedral by an Italian priest who seemed to have a way with words.
Chapter 2
Ways of Human Beings

Human action can be modified to some extent,
but human nature cannot be changed.
~Abraham Lincoln

As Malcolm and The Enchanter continued to trudge the pathways, it occurred to Malcolm that they had been walking for quite some time now, and the cathedral was nowhere in sight yet.
“How far is it from here?” he asked The Enchanter.
“Oh, not far, another fifteen to twenty minutes of walking. I took the liberty of taking the longer way to get there. This path is more pleasant, and you get to see very amusing vistas as you go along.”
The Enchanter was right, as they soon were at an incline which took them to the top of a gentle hill, from which they could see the expanse of the city of Florence with all its glorious buildings, squares, and piazzas. The rays of the evening sun bathed the place in a faint glow, and Malcolm felt a great sense of relaxation overcome him.
“The brilliant handiwork of God,” Malcolm muttered to himself.
“God has nothing to do with it. It is all in the lighting effect, caused by the ball of gas, ‘the sun,’ and the effect is even more impactful in moonlight.”
“Ah, let me guess; a priest who studied science. You guys have moved a long way since you threatened to have poor old Galileo tortured for saying that the Earth goe