Young Writers Society

Chapter 1- Attilio

The sun was setting behind the tall oak trees of the forest; the beams of light that made it past the branches were hitting the side of my face adding a different type of warmth than the bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread and warm moist cinnamon flirted by my nose, tempting me. My stomach growled. There was a deep laugh from behind my shoulder. It was John, the baker. John had this air about him that would make even the cruelest man smile and joke like he was a lad again.
“Hungry?” He asked, his thin lips moving under his giant ginger moustache. Although John had quite a bit of hair on his upper lip his head was almost completely bald, and just like his head his stomach was fairly round as well.
“Verily” I said with a smile, John’s blue eyes crinkled.
“Perchance I wilt givest thou a roll when thou art finished”
“Prithee, I am starving” The baker rolled his eyes and chuckled.
“I’ll givest thou a roll, but eat it quickly before someone comes” John turned around and headed back towards the fire-ovens, I let a smile grace my lips at the thought of eating one of John’s rolls. The few times that I had eaten one of the rolls they had been delicious, moist yet flaky, soft yet crunchy, and spicy yet sweet. But I rarely got to eat them, I never had enough money to get rolls for my whole family, and the thought of eating something so delicious without sharing any with my family sickened me. Why should I deserve something so amazing while the rest of my family cannot have it?
“There, I gave thee a slightly burnt roll, one I wouldn’t sell” I was handed a cinnamon twisted roll that was just a shade darker than the ones on display. I knew that John was lying to me, but we both knew that the lie made me feel better about eating anything that could be sold. The cinnamon roll was warm and so delicious that I finished it quickly, licking the cinnamon from my finger tips just as the small bell rang above the door, signaling that someone had entered the shop.
“Good eve Attilio” My little brother said as he leaned on the counter separating the kitchens and the shop.
“How now Michelangelo?” I ruffled his caramel colored hair and he batted away my hand, flattening his hair once more.
“Is Molly hither?”
“No ‘How now Attilio’ or ‘I pray you Attilio, tell me about thy day’?”
“I do not care about thy day, I care about Molly. Is she hither?”
“Nay,” My brother has developed a bit of an obsession of the baker’s daughter Molly. He had seen her at the shop last year and came by regularly to catch her eye again. “Perchance she wilt show later” I smirked; Michelangelo hated it when I teased him like this.
However my smirk fell when the door to the shop opened and a small girl with red hair walked in. She looked over at Michelangelo and quickly looked away with red cheeks. Michelangelo continued to stare at the shelves of pastries, completely oblivious to the girl behind him. She ran her fingers through her hair attempting to fix it just so before my little brother turned around and noticed.
“Good eve Michelangelo” the red head said. Michelangelo jumped in surprise and turned around to take in the person behind him.
“Molly” he sighed. He straightened and then said in a deeper voice “How now Molly?”
“Well enough,” The two just stood there staring at each other with smitten smiles on their faces. Shaking my head I walked towards the back where the ovens are.
The heat by the ovens was intense and I was sweating in minutes. Although this was my favorite place to be in the frigid Karlington winters, I loathed the ovens during the overheated summers. Even though I was sweating the heat was welcomed after the drafty bakery.
“Didst thou come back for another?” John asked from one of the ovens.
“Nay,” I said, “Michelangelo and Molly are out there”
“Thy brother best be acting like a gentleman, if not” John made a gesture towards the oven making me laugh. “I best go see what they are up too” John left me in the kitchens while he went to check on my brother and his daughter. The conversation from the bakery flowed through the open door in broken parts of speech, but nothing I heard was interesting enough for me to try and listen fully. I grabbed an empty crate from John’s discard pile and used it as a small chair next to an oven that was not being used. The room was so warm and smelled so good; I never wanted to leave this seat.

“Attilio, Attilio, Attilio!”
“Wha…?” I shook my head trying to clear the haze that had settled in my brain. Where was I? And more importantly who the hell was yelling?
“Wake up!” I heard again, I became freezing and wet when a bucket of water was thrown on me.
“I’m up, I’m up!” Shaking my head one more time to clear the haze I saw that John was standing over me with a now empty bucket in his hand.
“Thou fell asleep” John said with a chuckle.
“Forsooth, I did not!”
“Aye, thou did, but the shop is closed now, has been for quite some time”
“Alack!” I whispered under my breath. “I will be back on the morrow!” I called as I ran from the shop and back to my home.
“I am sorry Mother” I said as I walked into the house. I hung my black hat on the mantle and gave my mother a kiss on the cheek by the hearth. Her caramel colored hair looked warm and soft in the glow of the fire light.
“It is fine Attilio” Her blue eyes looked up to me and smiled. “I was worried when Michelangelo come hither without thou.”
“Again, I apologize”
Mother nodded and smiled up at me, “I am wondering if thou hath met a lady in the Square” There was a twinkle in her eye that was not from the fire.
Shaking my head I said, “Nay Mother, I was not with a lady, yon ladies hath not caught this heart yet”
“Attilio” Mother sighed; she stood up from her place next to the hearth and looked me in the eye. “Attilio” She stressed my name again. “Thou wilt have to marry soon, thee are nearly eighteen. Thou father was married at seventeen” Mother sighed again. “I pray you, marry before it is too late” Mother gave me a gentle kiss before going back to the meal on the hearth.
I shook my head and unbuttoned my doublet, hanging the vest on the mantle. I attempted to wipe the flour from the front of my doublet but it was futile. The more I tried to wipe away the flour the more I smelt the bakery in my clothing. The spicy cinnamon and warm yeast from the bakery flirted across my nose, mingling with the scent of my supper. The scent filled and lit a fire in my veins, warming my body from the inside out. This, I thought, is what home smells like.
“Attilio?” Mother asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Attilio wilt thou grab everyone for supper?” I nodded.
First I headed out the backdoor, figuring it would be easier to find Michelangelo before the rest of my sisters. Michelangelo was sitting just inside the forest that surrounded the back of our home. “Michelangelo” I called. “Michelangelo it is time for supper” I said placing my hand on his shoulder.
“Attilio, hath thou ever thought of what was in the forest?”
“Art there not just animals in the forest?”
“I mean the things that thou cannot see”
“Are there things that we cannot see?”
“I do not know” Michelangelo sighed. “I believe there are, all of the stories that Father hath told us have to be true. I feel like they are true.”
“Is that why thou sits out here?” I sat down next to my brother and stared out into the forest. Michelangelo nodded.
“There is a magic here that is do not feel anywhere else, it feels nice”
“Wilt thou bring Molly here? Thou seems to like the forest just as much as she”
“I do not know her father scares me, a lot” I laughed. “Do not laugh Attilio, I thought he was going to murder me for holding Molly’s hand.”
“I do not think that John wilt be a problem, thou shalt try to court her, woo her with thou personality” Michelangelo nodded. “Now let us go eat supper” I clapped him on the back and we walked back towards the house.
“Atti! Atti!” I heard as I walked into the house and my little sister attached herself to my leg. Her blue eyes looked up at me and smiled.
“Hello Emma” I said, picking her up and placing her on my hip. I threaded my fingers through her curly brown locks, tickling her by running my fingers over her back. She let out peals of laughter. “Let us go eat supper” Emma nodded and we sat at the table where most of my family was already seated. All of the girls were seated on one side of the table, seeming to sit in a pattern of blonde hair and brown hair. Emma sat on my lap as I sat next to Michelangelo, who was sitting next to my mother.
“Mother, where is Father?” Anselm, my younger sister with blonde hair asked.
“I am hither Anselm,” My father said walking to the table. “Good eve Isabel” He said kissing my mother on the cheek.
“Good eve Pompeo” Mother said. Father sat down and looked over at me. I always felt that I was looking into the future when I saw Father. His dirty blonde hair and blue eyes mirrored mine exactly, only the wrinkles around his eyes and his growing beard could tell us apart.
“How was thy day Attilio?”
“Fine and thine?” I asked trying to eat around Emma.
“Fine” Father said and we ate in compatible silence.
The bakery was warm again, tempting me into another comfortable sleep. John was in the back baking but came out occasionally and looked through the front window where his daughter and wife were walking. The bell above the door to shop rang and brought me out of my daze. I froze, she was beautiful.

wow, for me, the old day talk gets confusing and boring, but your Chapter, was very easy to read, and interesting. I'd love to read more. nice character names by the way. ;D

Hi Wranna,

So, the little secondary title told me this is set in Medieval times, but I'm a little lost. Is this in England or Italy?

Also, (unfortunately for the Medieval folks), sugar and spices were far from common day, and bread in general was not exactly tasty. In fact, bread was so hard and gross that it was used as a plate for a soup or stew. The liquid would soften the bread and only then could it be actually eaten. Nasty, right?

Even nastier was that seasonings we take for granted were either unknown or so expensive that there's no way a commoner would have them. Which means that there'd be no cinnamon sweet rolls. Or sweet bread in general. Sad but true.

Finally (while I have to play historical accuracy police on you, sorry) is the dialogue. Unless you're writing around 1300-1400, the thee and thouing wouldn't be happening. If the story takes place in England, people were actually speaking a whole lot of Norman French back then, and old-fashioned English as we know it from translated Shakespeare didn't come in until, well, Middle English emerged.

This is actually a benefit to you, because frankly, the dialogue was hard to read! I've read a fair bit of Shakespeare in my day, so it's not just the oldness. It just seemed out of place, so I kept having to orient myself around it. But because the type of English you're getting at didn't exist yet, you can skip some or a lot of the thees and thines and prithees. Instead, you can just give it an old feel in terms of the way people speak to each other. Also, add in a healthy dose of religion too.

I hate that I had to play accuracy police on you there, but... well, I had to. Sowwy.

Let me know if you have any questions!

Rach

Hey Wranna,
First of all I want to say congrats on starting a possible novel, it's alway exciting!
I have to admit the way that the characters, with by far the coolest names, spoke really got on my nerves. I believe it takes the attention away from the story's plot and causes the reader to find it more difficult to follow the story.
Just my personal opinion! x