City of Miracles
PART 1
Venice is rotting away, sinking slowly into the sea they say. Yet most everybody who comes to Venice goes away entranced. The maze of canals, and the famous Piazza San Marco fill most people with awe. But for a select few, it is much more than that. Oliver was one of these people. To him, Venice was more than just a city, it was home. From the second he put his foot on one of the narrow, twisting cobblestone streets he knew he was meant to be there. The magical city had cast a spell on him, ensnaring him, preventing him from ever leaving. When asked about this, he found he could not reply. There was a bind between him and the city too strong and too deep for words, something enchanting.
Oliver had first come to the city when he was four; his parents had still been alive then. He had been overwhelmed by the beauty and majesty of Venice. He remembered telling his mother "someday I shall live here in a gondola." The memory still made him smile slightly. His parents had brought him back to Venice two other times before their deaths; it was not hard to reach the city for they lived only forty or so miles away. Each time had been better than the one before, and he had always kept his childhood vow to himself. He had still been determined to someday live in Venice, but had long since given up the idea to live in a gondola.
When his parents had died in a car accident, Oliver had become even more determined to live in the city. The grief for their deaths, mixed with his love for the city, had turned into a sort of passion and determination to accomplish his goal. His mind was made up. One clear, balmy night, Oliver had taken his seven-year-old brother Marcos and run away from the orphanage they had been forced to call home for the past year.
They had finally made it to Venice after several days of sneaking onto trains and sleeping in cold corners of abandoned buildings. But when they had finally arrived and stepped onto the shore, Oliver had known that it was all worth it. For the first time since his parent's deaths he felt truly happy.
However, little did he know of the hardships that were to come. The three weeks that had followed had not been pleasant ones. As he looked back on it now, he could not remember specific events, only that he and his brother had been miserable. Always cold, always hungry, never able to acquire any more money than was necessary to buy things to survive.
Then they had met Fiora. That day Oliver remembered quite vividly. Winter had been almost fully upon Venice by that time; large, soft snowflakes had just begun to fall from the slate-gray sky. He and Marcos had been huddled on the doorstep of an abandoned house-cold, tired, and hungry. Oliver had just begun to consider going back to the orphanage when Fiora had come to them. She told them about the band of thieves that Oliver now knew so well, and she had offered them a place in their group. Unable to think of an alternative, Oliver had taken his brother and followed Fiora through the maze of twisting alleys. After a few long minutes, Oliver, his brother Marcos, and Fiora had reached a large abandoned building whose bottom was set into canal.
Looking back on it now, Oliver knew that it was the best thing he could have ever done. Even though he had only been in the gang for less than a month, he understood that without them, he and his brother would have died. They lived peacefully in the large building with the rest of the gang at night, and roamed the streets of Venice stealing food and small trinkets during the day. As Oliver lay quietly on his small cot, listening to the others breathing heavily in sleep, he thought of the exciting life that lay ahead of him; and all because he and his brother had come to Venice. Venice-the city of miracles.
PART 2
"Wake up Oliver!" a shrill, excited voice said loudly, "it's almost time to go-come on!" As Oliver opened his eyes he could see the lanky figure of Tio before him.
"I'm up, I'm up," he muttered groggily, "calm down." With a great effort Oliver pulled himself out of bed, there was no need to change for he slept in the same tattered clothes he had worn on his arrival to Venice. He followed the others out the partly boarded up door of the building and into the pale morning sunlight. Every time he stepped outside he was amazed at the way the sunlight glittered off the water, casting leaping shadows on everything near. Venice's beauty never ceased to amaze him.
"Where's Marcos?" Oliver said a little anxiously to Tio, who was standing beside him looking dreamily at the Canal.
"Here I am!" Marcos yelled, bounding out from behind Pablo-a large, dark-skinned boy of around thirteen. "I'm not going to run away," continued Marcos, staring up at Oliver. Marcos was small for his age and always had been, but since they had come to Venice he had taken on the look of a child that had once been well-fed and then had had a sudden decrease in diet. The circles under his eyes and thin clothing were always worries to Oliver, especially since it was still winter and there was little hope of buying a new coat for his brother. The sun had only just begun to show more clearly through the large winter clouds-a sign that spring was on the way. But however much the sun tried to shine the icy chill of winter was still felt clearly in the wind as it whipped around the children's ears.
"Let's go." Pablo said shortly, waving his hand forward in a gesture for the rest of the group to follow. They walked with him along the small alley in front of their home; Oliver walking at a slow, steady pace, always keeping an eye out for his brother bounding like an excited puppy near the front of the small group. Tio scurrying along, looking tiny behind the large, muscular body of Pablo walking steadily forward at the head of the gang. Fiora walked dreamily-gazing the canals and old buildings lining the ally-making the last of the small gang.
They wound their way through several alleys and onto a wider street near one of the larger canals in the city. It was lined with tourists, small cafés, and dusty antique stores-none of which were of interest to the group. They did not come to mingle with the tourists-cameras hanging around their necks, and maps of the city spread before them-or to see the sights; they came to steal. It was not an honest living, but it was the only way the small band of misfits could survive.
Pablo and Tio were both orphaned as small children and, like Oliver, had run away from their orphanages a few years back-coming to Venice because of the fantastic stories told about its majesty and beauty. Fiora never talked about her parents or where she had come from, and nobody asked. And that was the way it remained-everyone living peacefully on- unconcerned with the others' pasts.
As they walked along the crowded street Pablo casually bumped a young tourist in front of him, causing her to drop her wallet which she had been holding in her hand.
"Excuse me," he said, adding a thick Italian accent to his normal speech, "allow me to get that for you." He bent down and picked up the wallet-handing it to the young woman.
"Thank you," she said casually, "that was very kind." At this, she walked off down the crowded street, oblivious to the bills Pablo held in his large, plump hand-waving them at his friends behind her back.
"Did you see that guys?" he asked excitedly, waving the bills wildly in emphasis, "she didn't even notice!" All of the gang nodded, smiling, knowing they would be able to eat that day. All looked excited except Fiora, who was crouching on the ground oblivious to the tourists bumping their way past her. She appeared to be holding a small object in her hand, and kept brushing her long brown hair away from her face to examine the figure.
"What ya looking at Fiora?" Tio asked casually, "Find a coin or something?" When Fiora didn't reply he walked over to her and peered over her shoulder at a small golden lion resting on her palm. "What is it?" he asked again.
"You can see it perfectly well," Fiora retorted, "what does it look like to you?"
"Humph," Tio said, a little annoyed, "come over here and look at this you guys." Hearing this, Oliver, Marcos, and Pablo walked towards them, ignoring the disgruntled glances shot their way by the impatient tourists lining the street. They clustered around Fiora and stared at the mysterious figure.
"I found it right here-it didn't look like anyone had dropped it," Fiora said. "I've never seen anything like it before." The rest of the group looked at the golden lion resting in Fiora's palm-puzzled as to where it may have come from.
Then Pablo said quietly, "I think I read about that once, in an old book I found somewhere-I don't really remember. I think it said that those lion figurines had some sort of powers, but you know about all the stories told of magic in Venice-it's probably just some myth-I don't even remember where I read it."
"Well, it doesn't look magic to me," Tio said practically, "maybe we can sell it for something." The rest of the group nodded in agreement and they stood up, "Let's get something to eat," said Tio in a loud voice, "I'm starved." The spell of amazement the small figurine had momentarily set on the group disappeared and they headed to a small grocery store a few yards down the street.
As they walked towards their home-several small bags of food in their hands-Fiora reached into her pocket and brought the golden lion out once again. Staring at it she said, "I don't think we should sell it."
"But," Tio said anxiously, "What if we can't find any easy stealing tomorrow? You want to eat don't you?"
"There's enough food to last us a day or two if we don't eat too much" Fiora said firmly. "Who's to say that we'll have bad luck tomorrow anyway." She glanced back at the rest of the group, "I say we wait to sell it until we have to-what if it really is magic."
Pablo nodded, "I agree with Fiora, we only sell it if we have to." That settled it. Oliver glanced at Tio who had a large scowl set on his face and was muttering something indistinguishable under his breath. Oliver smiled and turned his gaze to Marcos who was walking next to Fiora begging her to let him hold the lion figurine.
"Marcos get back here and stop bothering Fiora, you can look at it when we get home," Oliver yelled. Marcos reluctantly stopped begging for the lion and shuffled back to walk next to Marcos. The sun was beginning its descent now and the chill of winter could be felt more keenly than ever. Oliver tugged his brother's collar closer to his ears and knelt, setting the grocery bag down, to zip up his coat. As Oliver stood up, Marcos put his small arm around his brother and they walked together-side by side-along the ever darkening alley.
PART 3
It was chilly in the abandoned building that night and Oliver lay awake worrying about new clothes, food, and the long period of winter that still lay ahead. Restless, he quietly got out of bed and walked over to the small box on which the golden lion had been placed. Picking it up and turning it over in his hand he noticed something on the bottom of the statue that had not been noticible before. In the thin stream of pale moonlight shining through the boards barring the doorway he read what was engraved in the thin, small script upon the bottom of the statue. "Preserved forever as you are."
"Preserved forever as you are," he whispered softly to himself. "What is that supposed mean?" Oliver quietly walked over to the bed where Pablo lay-snoring quite loudly-and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Pablo, wake up and take a look at this."
Pablo jerked his head upwards and muttered thickly, "What.what.Oliver, is that you?"
"Yeah," Oliver replied softly, glancing at Marcos sleeping peacefully in his bed, "look at what's written on the bottom of this thing." Having said this, he thrust the small golden lion into Pablo's hand and watched as his eyes squinted with the strain of reading in so little light. As he read the short inscription Oliver noticed a slight change on Pablo's face. It was not of surprise, and it wasn't of anger either he thought, what could it be? As he stared keenly into Pablo's large, sleepy face he realized what it was. It was fear.
The next morning Pablo sent the others to roam the streets without him. "I have some important work to do," he said vaguely, "go on without me." The rest of the group shot him wondering glances as they headed out the door into the cold morning air but did not question his strange behavior.
"Oliver," Marcos asked quietly, walking beside his brother, "Why isn't Pablo coming with us?"
"I'm not sure," Oliver replied absently. He didn't want to tell his brother what thoughts were whirling madly about in his head. As they turned a corner to cross a large bridge breaching a canal, he walked over to Fiora and said in a whisper, "Do you think Pablo staying behind had to do with the lion?"
"Definitely," she said firmly and, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight, walked quickly away towards a small purse lying on the ground. "Look at this!" she said excitedly, "Some idiot must have dropped it!"
Tio ran up to stand behind her and asked eagerly, "How much is in it?" As Fiora opened the purse looks of severe disappointment crossed her and Tio's faces. "Nothing, there's nothing in it." Tio sighed and the group- spirits slightly dampened-made their way down the narrow street in hopes of easy stealing.
Several hours later, as the sun shined steadily down from over head, leaping and dancing happily on the canals, the gang had been able to steal nothing.
"I'm telling you," Tio said as they headed back home, "that lion isn't magic, it's cursed."
"Tio," Fiora's annoyed voice said from behind, "We've had bad days before, don't blame it on some dumb lion figurine."
The group walked the rest of the way home in silence. Oliver still deliberating over the golden lion and Pablo's odd behavior, and Tio and Fiora silently sulking over the disagreement they had just had. Marcos was the only one who appeared untroubled by any of the recent events.
When they arrived back to the abandoned building all except Oliver, for the most part, were surprised to find Pablo sitting on the dusty floor holding a large book. When they walked through the door into the cool, damp room he didn't even look up. He appeared totally fixated on whatever it was that was in the book, nothing else in the world existed to Pablo at that moment.
After several minutes of silence in the room, Pablo looked up. "Guys," he said quietly, looking up to face the group of people that stood solemnly before him, "I found something on the golden lion." Here he paused a moment and then began to read from the within the book's dusty red and gold cover-the pages torn and yellow from age.
THE GOLDEN LIONS OF VENICE
Many centuries before the writing of this book, when Venice was first
being constructed, four golden lions were found in the Grand Canal
Rialto
by a young man of the name Apollo Clemente. Apollo Clemente, being the finder of
these treasures, felt himself entitled to the right to keep them and did not inform
the authorities of his rare discovery. As the years past, legend has it that
Apollo found himself to not be ageing. As his friends grew older, and later died, he remained the same in every way, as the day he had found the golden lions. It is
said that one night as Apollo sat, like many nights before, studying the golden lions
he noticed writing inscribed on the bottom of the statue that had not been there before.
The writing read: "preserved forever as you are." This, Apollo knew, would explain the
fact that he was not getting any older. The past years had not been happy ones
for Apollo and his desire to destroy the lions had become greater and greater over the
years as he began to suspect their magical powers. The only way, it was said, to
destroy the lions was to drop them into the Grand Canal Rialto. By placing them back
from whence they came you would be putting to rest the demons believed to live in the
cursed golden lions. The legend also states that on his way to destroy the lions Apollo unknowingly dropped one somewhere in Venice and was only able to destroy three of the four figures. Undoubtedly the golden lion that remained undestroyed will continue to lie in wait, lurking somewhere in Venice, waiting to be found by an unsuspecting person. Whether the statue, when found, will prolong the life of the finder---like the legend Apollo---or even if it exists at all is unknown. However, Venice
holds many secrets and no person alive today knows what magic still lives.
Not a word was spoken as Pablo finished reading. The only sound heard was the gentle, constant lapping of water on the side of the building as Pablo finally raised his eyes and said solemnly, "We have to destroy the lion." Still nobody spoke. Finally, Tio seemed to snap out of his deep reverie of amazement and disbelief.
"Well I don't know, Pablo," he said stubbornly, "living forever wouldn't be so bad, I mean, who wants to die? We can always destroy it later."
"We don't know that," Pablo said, "we ought to destroy it now."
"I agree with Pablo," Fiora said quietly, "you've heard the stories of magic in Venice-it's unpredictable and dangerous. If this lion is magic we should destroy it."
Tio was silent for a moment, and then said, "Well if you don't want it, I do! Give it to me, and when you're all old and gray don't come crying to me!" Here, he stalked off-huffing with rage.
"Let's sleep on it," Pablo said softly. All of the gang walked slowly to their beds, thinking nothing of sleep. But several hours later they were all asleep, peacefully dreaming. All, that is, except Oliver. As he lay awake next to Marcos sleeping soundly beside him, he found that his thoughts kept straying back to the lion and what should be done with it. As his eyes finally began to droop he knew what must be done tomorrow, he would destroy the lion himself.
But silently, unbeknown to Oliver, Tio was awake. He crept quietly out of bed and towards the lion; he picked it up and stared at it lying peacefully on the palm of his hand.
PART 4
Oliver stood beside the Canal Rialto-golden lion in hand. He had found it on the floor beside Tio's bed early in the morning, and had taken it here-his mind made up to destroy it. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and the cold morning air whipped around his ears. He wrapped his hand around the small golden lion and drew his arm behind his head. He thought of his friends sleeping peacefully in the abandoned building, and his young, innocent brother Marcos. He thought of Venice, and his mother and father. Suddenly, Oliver whipped his arm forward and threw the lion into the water. He watched as it arced gracefully and plunged into the depths of the canal. The sun was more visible over the horizon now- casting beautiful colors of lavender and yellow against the dark blue sky and Oliver could feel its rays beginning to warm his ice-cold hands.
Venice is rotting away-sinking slowly into the sea, but Oliver didn't want to wait around and see that happen. He slowly turned away from the canal, and in the pale morning light, walked down the empty street towards home.
PART 1
Venice is rotting away, sinking slowly into the sea they say. Yet most everybody who comes to Venice goes away entranced. The maze of canals, and the famous Piazza San Marco fill most people with awe. But for a select few, it is much more than that. Oliver was one of these people. To him, Venice was more than just a city, it was home. From the second he put his foot on one of the narrow, twisting cobblestone streets he knew he was meant to be there. The magical city had cast a spell on him, ensnaring him, preventing him from ever leaving. When asked about this, he found he could not reply. There was a bind between him and the city too strong and too deep for words, something enchanting.
Oliver had first come to the city when he was four; his parents had still been alive then. He had been overwhelmed by the beauty and majesty of Venice. He remembered telling his mother "someday I shall live here in a gondola." The memory still made him smile slightly. His parents had brought him back to Venice two other times before their deaths; it was not hard to reach the city for they lived only forty or so miles away. Each time had been better than the one before, and he had always kept his childhood vow to himself. He had still been determined to someday live in Venice, but had long since given up the idea to live in a gondola.
When his parents had died in a car accident, Oliver had become even more determined to live in the city. The grief for their deaths, mixed with his love for the city, had turned into a sort of passion and determination to accomplish his goal. His mind was made up. One clear, balmy night, Oliver had taken his seven-year-old brother Marcos and run away from the orphanage they had been forced to call home for the past year.
They had finally made it to Venice after several days of sneaking onto trains and sleeping in cold corners of abandoned buildings. But when they had finally arrived and stepped onto the shore, Oliver had known that it was all worth it. For the first time since his parent's deaths he felt truly happy.
However, little did he know of the hardships that were to come. The three weeks that had followed had not been pleasant ones. As he looked back on it now, he could not remember specific events, only that he and his brother had been miserable. Always cold, always hungry, never able to acquire any more money than was necessary to buy things to survive.
Then they had met Fiora. That day Oliver remembered quite vividly. Winter had been almost fully upon Venice by that time; large, soft snowflakes had just begun to fall from the slate-gray sky. He and Marcos had been huddled on the doorstep of an abandoned house-cold, tired, and hungry. Oliver had just begun to consider going back to the orphanage when Fiora had come to them. She told them about the band of thieves that Oliver now knew so well, and she had offered them a place in their group. Unable to think of an alternative, Oliver had taken his brother and followed Fiora through the maze of twisting alleys. After a few long minutes, Oliver, his brother Marcos, and Fiora had reached a large abandoned building whose bottom was set into canal.
Looking back on it now, Oliver knew that it was the best thing he could have ever done. Even though he had only been in the gang for less than a month, he understood that without them, he and his brother would have died. They lived peacefully in the large building with the rest of the gang at night, and roamed the streets of Venice stealing food and small trinkets during the day. As Oliver lay quietly on his small cot, listening to the others breathing heavily in sleep, he thought of the exciting life that lay ahead of him; and all because he and his brother had come to Venice. Venice-the city of miracles.
PART 2
"Wake up Oliver!" a shrill, excited voice said loudly, "it's almost time to go-come on!" As Oliver opened his eyes he could see the lanky figure of Tio before him.
"I'm up, I'm up," he muttered groggily, "calm down." With a great effort Oliver pulled himself out of bed, there was no need to change for he slept in the same tattered clothes he had worn on his arrival to Venice. He followed the others out the partly boarded up door of the building and into the pale morning sunlight. Every time he stepped outside he was amazed at the way the sunlight glittered off the water, casting leaping shadows on everything near. Venice's beauty never ceased to amaze him.
"Where's Marcos?" Oliver said a little anxiously to Tio, who was standing beside him looking dreamily at the Canal.
"Here I am!" Marcos yelled, bounding out from behind Pablo-a large, dark-skinned boy of around thirteen. "I'm not going to run away," continued Marcos, staring up at Oliver. Marcos was small for his age and always had been, but since they had come to Venice he had taken on the look of a child that had once been well-fed and then had had a sudden decrease in diet. The circles under his eyes and thin clothing were always worries to Oliver, especially since it was still winter and there was little hope of buying a new coat for his brother. The sun had only just begun to show more clearly through the large winter clouds-a sign that spring was on the way. But however much the sun tried to shine the icy chill of winter was still felt clearly in the wind as it whipped around the children's ears.
"Let's go." Pablo said shortly, waving his hand forward in a gesture for the rest of the group to follow. They walked with him along the small alley in front of their home; Oliver walking at a slow, steady pace, always keeping an eye out for his brother bounding like an excited puppy near the front of the small group. Tio scurrying along, looking tiny behind the large, muscular body of Pablo walking steadily forward at the head of the gang. Fiora walked dreamily-gazing the canals and old buildings lining the ally-making the last of the small gang.
They wound their way through several alleys and onto a wider street near one of the larger canals in the city. It was lined with tourists, small cafés, and dusty antique stores-none of which were of interest to the group. They did not come to mingle with the tourists-cameras hanging around their necks, and maps of the city spread before them-or to see the sights; they came to steal. It was not an honest living, but it was the only way the small band of misfits could survive.
Pablo and Tio were both orphaned as small children and, like Oliver, had run away from their orphanages a few years back-coming to Venice because of the fantastic stories told about its majesty and beauty. Fiora never talked about her parents or where she had come from, and nobody asked. And that was the way it remained-everyone living peacefully on- unconcerned with the others' pasts.
As they walked along the crowded street Pablo casually bumped a young tourist in front of him, causing her to drop her wallet which she had been holding in her hand.
"Excuse me," he said, adding a thick Italian accent to his normal speech, "allow me to get that for you." He bent down and picked up the wallet-handing it to the young woman.
"Thank you," she said casually, "that was very kind." At this, she walked off down the crowded street, oblivious to the bills Pablo held in his large, plump hand-waving them at his friends behind her back.
"Did you see that guys?" he asked excitedly, waving the bills wildly in emphasis, "she didn't even notice!" All of the gang nodded, smiling, knowing they would be able to eat that day. All looked excited except Fiora, who was crouching on the ground oblivious to the tourists bumping their way past her. She appeared to be holding a small object in her hand, and kept brushing her long brown hair away from her face to examine the figure.
"What ya looking at Fiora?" Tio asked casually, "Find a coin or something?" When Fiora didn't reply he walked over to her and peered over her shoulder at a small golden lion resting on her palm. "What is it?" he asked again.
"You can see it perfectly well," Fiora retorted, "what does it look like to you?"
"Humph," Tio said, a little annoyed, "come over here and look at this you guys." Hearing this, Oliver, Marcos, and Pablo walked towards them, ignoring the disgruntled glances shot their way by the impatient tourists lining the street. They clustered around Fiora and stared at the mysterious figure.
"I found it right here-it didn't look like anyone had dropped it," Fiora said. "I've never seen anything like it before." The rest of the group looked at the golden lion resting in Fiora's palm-puzzled as to where it may have come from.
Then Pablo said quietly, "I think I read about that once, in an old book I found somewhere-I don't really remember. I think it said that those lion figurines had some sort of powers, but you know about all the stories told of magic in Venice-it's probably just some myth-I don't even remember where I read it."
"Well, it doesn't look magic to me," Tio said practically, "maybe we can sell it for something." The rest of the group nodded in agreement and they stood up, "Let's get something to eat," said Tio in a loud voice, "I'm starved." The spell of amazement the small figurine had momentarily set on the group disappeared and they headed to a small grocery store a few yards down the street.
As they walked towards their home-several small bags of food in their hands-Fiora reached into her pocket and brought the golden lion out once again. Staring at it she said, "I don't think we should sell it."
"But," Tio said anxiously, "What if we can't find any easy stealing tomorrow? You want to eat don't you?"
"There's enough food to last us a day or two if we don't eat too much" Fiora said firmly. "Who's to say that we'll have bad luck tomorrow anyway." She glanced back at the rest of the group, "I say we wait to sell it until we have to-what if it really is magic."
Pablo nodded, "I agree with Fiora, we only sell it if we have to." That settled it. Oliver glanced at Tio who had a large scowl set on his face and was muttering something indistinguishable under his breath. Oliver smiled and turned his gaze to Marcos who was walking next to Fiora begging her to let him hold the lion figurine.
"Marcos get back here and stop bothering Fiora, you can look at it when we get home," Oliver yelled. Marcos reluctantly stopped begging for the lion and shuffled back to walk next to Marcos. The sun was beginning its descent now and the chill of winter could be felt more keenly than ever. Oliver tugged his brother's collar closer to his ears and knelt, setting the grocery bag down, to zip up his coat. As Oliver stood up, Marcos put his small arm around his brother and they walked together-side by side-along the ever darkening alley.
PART 3
It was chilly in the abandoned building that night and Oliver lay awake worrying about new clothes, food, and the long period of winter that still lay ahead. Restless, he quietly got out of bed and walked over to the small box on which the golden lion had been placed. Picking it up and turning it over in his hand he noticed something on the bottom of the statue that had not been noticible before. In the thin stream of pale moonlight shining through the boards barring the doorway he read what was engraved in the thin, small script upon the bottom of the statue. "Preserved forever as you are."
"Preserved forever as you are," he whispered softly to himself. "What is that supposed mean?" Oliver quietly walked over to the bed where Pablo lay-snoring quite loudly-and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Pablo, wake up and take a look at this."
Pablo jerked his head upwards and muttered thickly, "What.what.Oliver, is that you?"
"Yeah," Oliver replied softly, glancing at Marcos sleeping peacefully in his bed, "look at what's written on the bottom of this thing." Having said this, he thrust the small golden lion into Pablo's hand and watched as his eyes squinted with the strain of reading in so little light. As he read the short inscription Oliver noticed a slight change on Pablo's face. It was not of surprise, and it wasn't of anger either he thought, what could it be? As he stared keenly into Pablo's large, sleepy face he realized what it was. It was fear.
The next morning Pablo sent the others to roam the streets without him. "I have some important work to do," he said vaguely, "go on without me." The rest of the group shot him wondering glances as they headed out the door into the cold morning air but did not question his strange behavior.
"Oliver," Marcos asked quietly, walking beside his brother, "Why isn't Pablo coming with us?"
"I'm not sure," Oliver replied absently. He didn't want to tell his brother what thoughts were whirling madly about in his head. As they turned a corner to cross a large bridge breaching a canal, he walked over to Fiora and said in a whisper, "Do you think Pablo staying behind had to do with the lion?"
"Definitely," she said firmly and, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight, walked quickly away towards a small purse lying on the ground. "Look at this!" she said excitedly, "Some idiot must have dropped it!"
Tio ran up to stand behind her and asked eagerly, "How much is in it?" As Fiora opened the purse looks of severe disappointment crossed her and Tio's faces. "Nothing, there's nothing in it." Tio sighed and the group- spirits slightly dampened-made their way down the narrow street in hopes of easy stealing.
Several hours later, as the sun shined steadily down from over head, leaping and dancing happily on the canals, the gang had been able to steal nothing.
"I'm telling you," Tio said as they headed back home, "that lion isn't magic, it's cursed."
"Tio," Fiora's annoyed voice said from behind, "We've had bad days before, don't blame it on some dumb lion figurine."
The group walked the rest of the way home in silence. Oliver still deliberating over the golden lion and Pablo's odd behavior, and Tio and Fiora silently sulking over the disagreement they had just had. Marcos was the only one who appeared untroubled by any of the recent events.
When they arrived back to the abandoned building all except Oliver, for the most part, were surprised to find Pablo sitting on the dusty floor holding a large book. When they walked through the door into the cool, damp room he didn't even look up. He appeared totally fixated on whatever it was that was in the book, nothing else in the world existed to Pablo at that moment.
After several minutes of silence in the room, Pablo looked up. "Guys," he said quietly, looking up to face the group of people that stood solemnly before him, "I found something on the golden lion." Here he paused a moment and then began to read from the within the book's dusty red and gold cover-the pages torn and yellow from age.
THE GOLDEN LIONS OF VENICE
Many centuries before the writing of this book, when Venice was first
being constructed, four golden lions were found in the Grand Canal
Rialto
by a young man of the name Apollo Clemente. Apollo Clemente, being the finder of
these treasures, felt himself entitled to the right to keep them and did not inform
the authorities of his rare discovery. As the years past, legend has it that
Apollo found himself to not be ageing. As his friends grew older, and later died, he remained the same in every way, as the day he had found the golden lions. It is
said that one night as Apollo sat, like many nights before, studying the golden lions
he noticed writing inscribed on the bottom of the statue that had not been there before.
The writing read: "preserved forever as you are." This, Apollo knew, would explain the
fact that he was not getting any older. The past years had not been happy ones
for Apollo and his desire to destroy the lions had become greater and greater over the
years as he began to suspect their magical powers. The only way, it was said, to
destroy the lions was to drop them into the Grand Canal Rialto. By placing them back
from whence they came you would be putting to rest the demons believed to live in the
cursed golden lions. The legend also states that on his way to destroy the lions Apollo unknowingly dropped one somewhere in Venice and was only able to destroy three of the four figures. Undoubtedly the golden lion that remained undestroyed will continue to lie in wait, lurking somewhere in Venice, waiting to be found by an unsuspecting person. Whether the statue, when found, will prolong the life of the finder---like the legend Apollo---or even if it exists at all is unknown. However, Venice
holds many secrets and no person alive today knows what magic still lives.
Not a word was spoken as Pablo finished reading. The only sound heard was the gentle, constant lapping of water on the side of the building as Pablo finally raised his eyes and said solemnly, "We have to destroy the lion." Still nobody spoke. Finally, Tio seemed to snap out of his deep reverie of amazement and disbelief.
"Well I don't know, Pablo," he said stubbornly, "living forever wouldn't be so bad, I mean, who wants to die? We can always destroy it later."
"We don't know that," Pablo said, "we ought to destroy it now."
"I agree with Pablo," Fiora said quietly, "you've heard the stories of magic in Venice-it's unpredictable and dangerous. If this lion is magic we should destroy it."
Tio was silent for a moment, and then said, "Well if you don't want it, I do! Give it to me, and when you're all old and gray don't come crying to me!" Here, he stalked off-huffing with rage.
"Let's sleep on it," Pablo said softly. All of the gang walked slowly to their beds, thinking nothing of sleep. But several hours later they were all asleep, peacefully dreaming. All, that is, except Oliver. As he lay awake next to Marcos sleeping soundly beside him, he found that his thoughts kept straying back to the lion and what should be done with it. As his eyes finally began to droop he knew what must be done tomorrow, he would destroy the lion himself.
But silently, unbeknown to Oliver, Tio was awake. He crept quietly out of bed and towards the lion; he picked it up and stared at it lying peacefully on the palm of his hand.
PART 4
Oliver stood beside the Canal Rialto-golden lion in hand. He had found it on the floor beside Tio's bed early in the morning, and had taken it here-his mind made up to destroy it. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and the cold morning air whipped around his ears. He wrapped his hand around the small golden lion and drew his arm behind his head. He thought of his friends sleeping peacefully in the abandoned building, and his young, innocent brother Marcos. He thought of Venice, and his mother and father. Suddenly, Oliver whipped his arm forward and threw the lion into the water. He watched as it arced gracefully and plunged into the depths of the canal. The sun was more visible over the horizon now- casting beautiful colors of lavender and yellow against the dark blue sky and Oliver could feel its rays beginning to warm his ice-cold hands.
Venice is rotting away-sinking slowly into the sea, but Oliver didn't want to wait around and see that happen. He slowly turned away from the canal, and in the pale morning light, walked down the empty street towards home.