In the world there are wishes and desires. Some make their own dreams come true and others pursue. However, it isn't till you reach the end, you discover if it was a dream or a nightmare. Here is the story of Francis Bonnefoy

When he was young, Francis grew up in a noble family. He was raised on the finest foods, living in the family's mansion. Like most noble men in the middle ages, his parents were grooming him to marry a noble girl, have many babies to continue the family legacy, and then to die wealthy. As a child, he wore fabulous clothing, silks, velvet, carefully tailored by a local woman, Elizabeta.


The table was laden with silverware. Three forks, five spoons, and an exotic assortment of knives sat glistening in front of the young Francis. He nodded politely as each of their uses was explained to him. The fork for the fish, never slurp your soup, and how to eat grapefruit without touching it with your hands.

"The greatest pleasures in this life, good food, wine, and company." His father smiled good naturedly.

He had the first two, but for the the third "good company" he was lacking. He never left the castle and his only fast friends were the maid and butler that worked in the family mansion. A pair of young men, Feliciano and Matthew. Feliciano worked permanently as the family's servant. He began working after his grandfather, their gardener, passed away. With nowhere to stay, Feliciano stayed in the household, smiling as he worked polishing the rooms and sweeping the steps. The only times he would stop smiling were when he was hurt or afraid, or when he was sweeping the front steps. He would just pause in his work and stare out at the road like he was searching for someone.

Matthew was the butler in the house. He was very close to Francis and acted more as a quiet best friend than anything. He would wake Francis up in the morning and dress him, then bring him his carefully prepared breakfast. Matthew was very quiet and didn't talk much, rather the opposite of cheerful Feliciano, but Francis could understand his feelings. He felt brotherly to the two boys, growing up with them.

"Yes Father." Francis replied obediently. He looked at the soup in front of him and frowned. It was a plate of some strange brown liquid with red specks. He played with the silverware in front of him and sipped some of his water, quietly ignoring the strange mixture in front of him. He bit his lip as his father looked up.

"Eat your food." There was a silence as Francis picked up his spoon. His father was the most famed epicure in the world. He had the most discriminating, almost legendary palate. One thing he also had was a raging temper. He had fired cooks at a breakneck pace when they made the roast slightly too brown, a grain too much salt, the wrong shade of red. He also grew furious when somebody didn't enjoy the foods he did.

Francis took a spoonful of the think liquid and, holding his breath, took a bite. He felt like gagging. It was a spice flavourful soup, but it was all wrong. It tasted like toothpaste and fish paste had been ground together and thinned with water. He coughed and spluttered before swallowing the slime. The air in the dining room began to feel thicker. Francis looked across the table to see his father reddening. From over his shoulder, Francis could see Matthew, halfway through the serving door. Pleading with his eyes, he silently begged his friend to stay. Matthew sighed and reluctantly re-entered the room, silently closing the door.

"I'm running short on time son. I have an important meeting in five minutes so please finish your soup." His father looked at his watch impatiently and signaled the butler for another glass of wine. As Matthew ran forward Francis took another sip, closing his eyes as he swallowed quickly. As he ate his father lectured to him.

"Think of the starving townsfolk who would love this soup. Eaten by kings, this is royal food. You are a privileged boy Francis." His father's proud yet stern tone of voice make his palms sweat. "Eat all the food on your plate Francis. Eat it all or you will be punished."

Francis's spoon clinked as it hit the bottom of the bowl. He had long repressed his gag reflex and now was methodically eating. In his haste, he dropped some food on the tablecloth. It went unnoticed to him but a harsh voice soon rang.

"Manners! You're slurping your soup. You are spoiling the silk tablecloth. You are a disgrace. I would expect this from one of the servants but not from you!" His father angrily pushed out his chair and stormed to his son's chair. He pulled Francis from his chair so he stood facing his father. "I'm late for my meeting now. This is absolutely unacceptable behavior. I run this house and you will abide by it's rules!"

Francis's face stung as he was slapped across the face. He looked down at the floor, refusing to meet his father's eyes. He saw his father's feet walk across the floor and out the door, slamming it violently. He felt his eyes start to tear as Matthew ran to his side. Feeling a comforting hand on his back he bit his lip. He could still taste the foul soup in his mouth. Coughing he flung Matthew's hand off his back and ran to the washroom.

He vomited into the toilet. A feeling of repulsion overcame him as he knelt over the toiled, heaving. Tears began to form in his eyes and, wiping his mouth, he walked out into the hallway where Matthew and Feliciano looked up anxiously. There was a determined look in his eyes as he walked to his father's wine cellar.

In hindsight, Francis would say that what he did was stupid, but it didn't matter. His mind was filled with rage. Rage at his father, himself, the cold stone mansion. When he reached the cellar he reached for a bottle of wine, one of the cheaper bottles.

"Matthew." Francis said quietly. "Do you have a corkscrew?"

"Yes." Matthew wrung his hands and looked at the ground. "But Francis, this isn't a good idea!"

Francis merely held out his hand and the screw was placed on. He tore off the cork and drank a long draft from the bottle. Smiling, he turned to face his friends.

"Here, have a drink."


Two hours later, the trio sat on the cold floor, sprawled out. Matthew was sprawled on the floor, jacket and tie flung on a casket of wine. He felt like he was floating on clouds. Feliciano was humming happily while he blew on an empty bottle making a hollow sort of horn. He giggled, a drunken blush on his face. Francis was sitting, propped against a shelf, bottle in hand ranting angrily.

"I don't get it! He's such a *hic* Bastard!" France spluttered.

"Hehe, well that him. Grandpa used to say that he you could of boiled an egg on his head!" Italy giggled again at the image of the man with egg on his face.

"Don't be so mean. He's just a bitter asshole!" Moaned Matthew from the floor.

"No!" Shouted Francis, swigging from the bottle. "He's been a bloody son of a bitch since mother died!"

"Well what does that make you then?" Matthew slurred

"She even died of food poisoning, hehe! Isn't that ironic!" Feliciano collapsed in a fit of giggles.

"Shut up!" Francis stumbled to his feet, pointing at Feliciano. "That wasn't ironic, that was cruel and sick! It was his fault! His fault she died like that!"

"Hey Francis" Matthew sat up. "Calm down."

"No! I won't calm down because it's not fair! She wasn't supposed to leave like that!" Francis started sobbing and dropped back to the ground, cradling his bottle.


Like father like son the old saying goes. Francis inherited his mother's look and charm, but his father's pride and temper. These two make a deadly combination, one that would make any person something to be feared. He could be foolish in his youth, but as he grew older he made choices. Becoming obsessive with an Epicurean lifestyle. Everything had to be perfectly pleasing to the mind and body. After all, what good is beauty if it cannot be admired.


Author's Miniblog- I'm going to stop calling this Author's Notes. They're not notes...

This is Extremely Loosely Based off the song "Evil Food Eater Conchita by Mothy" Go youtube it, listen, and enjoy.

Anyway- After finishing "Memories Need Cleaning Too" and "50 Feet Up" *cough* shameless advertising *cough* I felt like writing something dark. This should be five or six chapters if everything goes as planned.

This won't be kept on a schedule because life is complicated. I promise to update at least once evert two weeks though. That's the most I can promise this point. Thanks for reading!