A chill crept over the ornate piazzas of seventeenth-century Italy as a faint, eerie mist rolled in off the Adriatic Sea, shrouding the baroque architecture. The majestic facades built by Nico Paolo''s father''s once-skilled hands seemed ethereal and distant.


    Expressing motley emotions–wonder, fear, and a hint of darkness–the thirteen-year-old''s chubby face was a sight frequently beheld by the populace. His eyes darted between the obscured grandeur around him and the thoughts swirling in front of him. As he walked, his heartbeat quickened, his nerves fluttering with anticipation. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    A bona fide multitasker, he paid no heed to his nerves, instead lost in thought and whispering soft melodies to himself as a gentle warm-up for his impending solo performance at the traditional festival. His whispers grew louder and his footsteps resounded as he closed in on the open theater.