1888
Excerpt from a diary found in the New York public library, belonging to one H.B. Cowan, a lawyer working for the defense in the case of the murder of Grover Dawes:
“My client, Elizabeth Claire Ogilvie was found not guilty of the murder of her foreman, Grover Dawes. This did not seem to satisfy the spectators, who still claimed that she was a witch.
Grover Dawes’ body was found smoldering, like it had been set ablaze on the shirtwaist factory floor. Elizabeth was found just staring at the kindled mound. At the trial she had maintained that Mr. Dawes was trying to attack her, and that he simply ‘went up.’
A mob gathered outside the courthouse. They plucked her from custody, and transported her to her home on St.Mark’s Place, where they hung her body from an old tree and set the tree on fire.
It was a terrible sight. Sights like that leave an impression on everything around it.”
1949
Excerpt from The Village Examiner, December 11th, 1949:
‘The Horror in the Rectory’
The body of a local priest was found in the rectory of St. Ignatius Cathedral on St. Mark’s Street in the early hours of the morning. Father Timothy Chadwick was discovered by a landscaper.
Father Chadwick committed suicide. He was found, wrists slashed with stained glass, sitting in one of the pews. Investigators also found the remains of four bodies, each in four separate trunks, in the rectory. “The Horror at St. Ignatius” was the most sensationalized story of 1949. The church went unoccupied for several decades. Dead cats would always turn up in the rectory.
1977
A local chef named Roy Bernardo decided to turn the old abandoned church into a pizzeria. He installed an oven, took away the pews, and he even restored the broken stained glass himself.
Saint Iggy’s was the flagship of the community. On weekends it hosted activities for kids, taught by local artists. Pioneer Video would host “Cinema Sundays” for kids age 7-13. A fundraiser for Good Friends Animal Shelter was held there in the summer. When the basketball team from PS 111 would go out to eat for championships, it was always St. Iggy’s without question. “The Horror in the Rectory” had turned into nothing more than a ghost story. Sometimes buildings are like people. The interior can be going through turmoil, and outside the world keeps moving forward. No one even remembered Father Chadwick.
Roy Bernardo had grown up in the Village and had been baptized in St. Ignatius. “I thought it was unfair that such a beautiful building had the weight of this tragedy on it’s shoulders. I wanted to give it back to the community… and who doesn't love pizza?” He said in an interview with the Village Voice. Roy was proud of his pizza. He had carved out his own path in the pizza business by pioneering the “Long Pie” method. They stretched out in a long rectangular shape. The corners of their pies were crispy. The bottom and the crust had this very distinct, flaky texture.
Roy’s office was in the old rectory. During construction he had found Father Chadwick’s diary stuffed in between an empty space in the brick walls. The last entry was dated on the morning of his death.
“I see her when I close my eyes.”
2000
The only controversial thing about Roy Bernardo’s life was his death. On the morning of March 23rd, 2000, Roy was found dead in the kitchen of the pizzeria. The very kitchen he had created. He had slashed his wrists with pieces of the stained glass he had restored. A note was found in his pocket with only one thing written down;
“I couldn’t sleep.”
2024
Mark was sitting at his table nervously fidgeting with a loose thread on the checkerboard place setting. “Don’t destroy this nice table cloth.” he whispered to himself. It had been a while since he had been on a blind date. He forgot what to do with his arms. Does he just let them hang in the air, or does he tuck them under his napkin? He straightened his wool knit tie until he thought the blood was going to clot in his brain. He had gotten to the pizzeria a little early to get a good table. He knew it would be packed after the grand reopening. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Alex at the entrance. She was wearing a dark blue dress with roses printed on it. Just like the one in her Hinge profile. She walks over to his table. They awkwardly greet each other with a half hearted hug. They both sit down.
“Wow great seat!” says Alex.
“Yeah, I got here an hour ago to make sure we could cycle through” Mark said, although immediately regretted it as soon as he said it. He didn’t want to come off as too intense right off the bat. “Anyway thanks for meeting me here!” Mark said, trying to change the subject.
“Yeah, absolutely. I actually heard of this place on a True Crime podcast.”
“Oh yeah…” Mark said. “I used to come here as a kid. It was a nice place.”
“Wow I had no idea you grew up in New York. You’re a rare breed.”
“Actually, I’m so sorry… will you please excuse me?” Mark says as he gets up and runs down the hall towards the bathroom. Confused, Alex immediately starts having second thoughts. She takes out her phone and texts a friend “Yeah, it’s gorgeous on the inside. Kind of a weird place for a first date, but...”
The loud clang of a pizza tray hitting a marble tile floor is unmistakable, and when it’s followed by a scream, it’s rarely something good. Alex looks up from her phone and watches a cacophonous amount of people crowd the hallway where the bathrooms are located. Alex gets up and follows the commotion, and the wave of voices.
“Call an ambulance!”
“Is it another suicide?!”
“This place is cursed!”
Alex pushes her way past the crowd, but only to a point. She manages to see through the sea of people, the outline of what looks like Mark’s sweater. Mark was lying in a pool of his own blood. His wrists had been slashed. A shard of stained glass was still in his hand.