1 Antonio

"Tell me a story," the young boy insisted just as he had every every year before. "Tell me a story Nonno." "Alright then Mimmo, a story it is," the silver haired man replied from his creaky old rocking chair. " There once was a curious young man maybe to curious for his own good..."

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It was a cold day in the small town of Rocca di Papa in Lazio Italy November 1834. Icicles hung from the guttering on the buildings. Fires burning brightly from the small cottages in the area. Young children already wrapped up in their warm cosy beds lost in their magical dreams. The village men trudge down the dark streets, frozen sludge making it's way into their socks. Snowflakes falling softly on to their top hats as they plod along the cobbled street. At least all except Signore Antonio Ferrai the 19-year-old son of the local blacksmith.

Antonio always had been curious, even as a young chap. Had his head up in the clouds they'd say. He was a dreamer with a bizarre imagination. Always had been trouble since he first lay foot on this earth. Consistently having some snarky comment up his sleeve for the insegnanti at least. His father however was a very strict man who followed every rule and expected the same from all his offspring. He did not find Antonio's humour amusing. He found it quite absurd and repulsive really. He'd tell people. "That boy is no son of mine!" Quite undoubtedly as well. Antonio's mother was a child from the home where she was found on the porch as a bambino. Marie disappeared without a trace a few years after Antonio's birth leaving her husband with a 3-year-old boy to take care of. If you asked the anziani from the town they'd tell you she was a out right disgrace, a lei, il diavolo, and her son an uncivilised freak, who had no sense of courtesy. His father was a man who he should worship for letting that filth stay in his home. However if you asked the giovani they'd say he was a hoot, a real laugh, fun to be around.

The people from Rocca di Papa had severely different opinions on the young lad but he didn't seem to mind to much. Antonio was unique you could say. He loved to see smiles on his acquaintance's faces. He'd always felt a scent of pride when he heard them laughing at his witty comments or his light-hearted jokes. Antonio had always found the attitude of his superiors disheartening. Especially their opinions on his comical jokes.

So now kneeling down in the cool lake catching snowflakes on his tongue he saw something, or someone peculiar usually one wouldn't notice.