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.
He sat there on the hill overlooking the city. The stars just barely illuminated the sleeping city. The rich had gone to bed long ago, and the scum of the city had awoken to slip through the cracks the shadows had left behind. Sometimes Leo wondered what it was like, to get your hands dirty and regularly break the law barely even batting an eye. He had read about the old punishments where the punishment fit the crime, and was quite honestly surprised that he had not seen more people without hands. There was this one dream that Leo had been obsessed with since he’d had it 5 years ago. People told him he was crazy and looked personally offended whenever he told them that he’d often wonder what being a criminal was like. The rush, the thrill, the disregard for everything that his friends and family held holy. The thought of eating scraps appalled him, so he often attempted to avoid that in his fantasies. And he most likely wouldn’t have the very comfortable white shirt he was wearing. And his lucky coin would have been long gone by now, snatched up by a colleague, if you could call them that. Perhaps a short, fat, but also miraculously quick friend named Flavio would make a fine accomplice in all their crimes. Yes, they would raid the cathedrals, and take all the jewels, and their name would be known throughout Italy.
He sighed as he was brought back to reality, feeling the weight of aristocracy crushing him, and all the responsibilities it brought with it. The crisp and gentle August air encased him in its awe-inspiring beauty, as the breeze ran through his thick hair. If he could stay here forever, he probably would. The stars were more comforting than people, anyway.
“Leo?” That was definitely Francesca’s voice. Francesca was their head maid. She was stout and graying, and ran their staff with a rigid rule. She was often stern and serious, but at her heart wanted only the best for the Bianchis. She was devoted to her job, and her voice was an unwelcomed shrill intruder, ricocheting off of the stars he so adored. Usually, he would run and hide, as most likely his mother would scold him multiple times, grab him by the ear, and drag him back to their home. Tonight, though, even if she had broken his silence, he still didn’t hide. He saw her peaking around the tree, clearly seeing him now. She began strutting with even more gravita than usual. “Leo Columbo Bianchi, you will go home now, and you will answer before your mother and father, they’ve been worried sick about--” Leo stared off into the distance, without raising a finger, and just shushed her. “Sh, sh sh sh…” He sighed. “Francesca, how many stars do you think there are in the sky?” Francesca took a heavy breath. “I don’t know Leo, a thousand? What difference does it make, you’re coming home right now!”
He looked at her with a look that expressed a hundred years of nonexistent knowledge, and said, “Do you think the stars will always be there? Do you think anything is permanent? Even the sun we revere as some sort of deity?” Francesca sighed. “I don’t know Leo, all I know is that those stars will be there 50, 100, even 500 years from now. Some things never change, Leo.” Slightly grunting, he picked himself up, and dusted off his clothes...
To be continued? I'm just throwing out ideas in this series. It would be wonderful if people commented. I always appreciate hearing from readers.
As you were,
Justin
He sighed as he was brought back to reality, feeling the weight of aristocracy crushing him, and all the responsibilities it brought with it. The crisp and gentle August air encased him in its awe-inspiring beauty, as the breeze ran through his thick hair. If he could stay here forever, he probably would. The stars were more comforting than people, anyway.
“Leo?” That was definitely Francesca’s voice. Francesca was their head maid. She was stout and graying, and ran their staff with a rigid rule. She was often stern and serious, but at her heart wanted only the best for the Bianchis. She was devoted to her job, and her voice was an unwelcomed shrill intruder, ricocheting off of the stars he so adored. Usually, he would run and hide, as most likely his mother would scold him multiple times, grab him by the ear, and drag him back to their home. Tonight, though, even if she had broken his silence, he still didn’t hide. He saw her peaking around the tree, clearly seeing him now. She began strutting with even more gravita than usual. “Leo Columbo Bianchi, you will go home now, and you will answer before your mother and father, they’ve been worried sick about--” Leo stared off into the distance, without raising a finger, and just shushed her. “Sh, sh sh sh…” He sighed. “Francesca, how many stars do you think there are in the sky?” Francesca took a heavy breath. “I don’t know Leo, a thousand? What difference does it make, you’re coming home right now!”
He looked at her with a look that expressed a hundred years of nonexistent knowledge, and said, “Do you think the stars will always be there? Do you think anything is permanent? Even the sun we revere as some sort of deity?” Francesca sighed. “I don’t know Leo, all I know is that those stars will be there 50, 100, even 500 years from now. Some things never change, Leo.” Slightly grunting, he picked himself up, and dusted off his clothes...
To be continued? I'm just throwing out ideas in this series. It would be wonderful if people commented. I always appreciate hearing from readers.
As you were,
Justin