Well, I'm back at it with the fiction. This is always fun. So, this series is literally just the beginning of a story I have in my head. Because trust me, I have a lot of those. It's unfortunate, I really talk to myself far too much, not because I need to, but I'm just overflowing with ideas and running low on commitment and perseverance. Truly unfortunate. You know, someday I may settle down to write a book. You never know. Well, here is this piece, a 1-page beginning set in the 1600s. Of course, nobody talks like they did in the 1600s, because older English is a language all on its own. We find ourselves observing the ponderings of a young Leo Bianchi on a beautiful fall night in Florence, Italy. Take a look:
Leo found it fascinating to wonder how many stars there were. Maybe a million? A billion? Even the leading scientists and philosophers couldn’t figure it out. They said they had a solid estimate, but even with the funding of the crown, he just couldn’t rule out this feeling of cynical skepticism. The church and all their cronies had everyone else fooled, and his parents deeply revered the “Lord Our God”, but that didn’t mean anything to him. People often don’t realize how easily the follower can be followed by others, and so on and so on, until you have one blind man speaking to legions of equally blind men. He rolled the coin through his fingers, the one that his father had given to him. It was worn, from years of regrets, hardships, and worries, and yet, like the coin, everything always seemed to slowly smooth itself out, until whatever you were worrying about disappeared. It was his lucky coin, a family heirloom. It had seen the stress of generations. Probably worth a fortune.
Leo found it fascinating to wonder how many stars there were. Maybe a million? A billion? Even the leading scientists and philosophers couldn’t figure it out. They said they had a solid estimate, but even with the funding of the crown, he just couldn’t rule out this feeling of cynical skepticism. The church and all their cronies had everyone else fooled, and his parents deeply revered the “Lord Our God”, but that didn’t mean anything to him. People often don’t realize how easily the follower can be followed by others, and so on and so on, until you have one blind man speaking to legions of equally blind men. He rolled the coin through his fingers, the one that his father had given to him. It was worn, from years of regrets, hardships, and worries, and yet, like the coin, everything always seemed to slowly smooth itself out, until whatever you were worrying about disappeared. It was his lucky coin, a family heirloom. It had seen the stress of generations. Probably worth a fortune.