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Story 1 for FarmBoy
Author:InuYashalover
From:Western Europe
January 30, 2010
The Little farm Boy
Once, there was a little farm boy. He lived on the smallest farm in all of Europe, and many people looked down on him. However, his crops, although the smallest, were said to be the very best meats and cheeses, fruits and vegetables in the region. So, the little farm boy decided to travel to all of the best chefs and cooks in the surrounding countries.
In England, he gave the head chef of the queen wonderful herbs and spices for the queen's tea. In Spain, the monarchy was delighted to eat his delicious veal. However in France, he went to give his very best to the chef of the very best nobleman's home. The chef was insulted to hear the boy's voice telling him to cook this and that, so he ordered one of his servants to escort him out.
The little servant girl looked at the boy and told him that she thought that his foods would taste better than any of the head chef's meals. The little boy was overjoyed, and asked the girl if she wanted anything to eat. So, the two little children ate a delicious meal.
The little girl offered an idea: that he sell his food and produce on his farm. The boy agreed, and asked her to help him. So, the girl quit her job as a servant, and traveled back with the boy to his farm in Italy. Together, they made great foods and the farm's produce started tasting even better.
And they lived deliciously ever after.
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Story 2 for FarmBoy
Author:nadia07
From:Franklin, TN
January 29, 2010
The Farm in Turino
The farmboy learned to speak Italian with amazing proficiency. He was able to arrange several accidental meetings at a local cafe with the object of his affection. They were getting along quite well, when one day she aannounced that she was moving back to her homeland to take a job in Milan. Several weeks after she had left, the farmboy decided his heart would finally break if he did not go ask her to marry him. He sold his land and all of his belongings and flew to Milan. He ran into her one day in a small cafe, where he professed his love. She, however, had already become engaged to another. Devastated, the boy hopped on a train and rode until he saw a small farmhouse. Upon exiting the train, in Turino, he walked the 7miles back to where he had seen the farm. He introduced himself to the owner and arranged to work for the man in exchange for room and board. One day at the beginning of summer, the boy was working in the barn. A young lady entered and introduced herself as the daughter of the farmer. She had been away in Rome at college and had come home for the summer, due to her father's failing health. She was grateful to the boy for helping her father. At the end of the summer, the young lady was smitten with the boy. The boy felt something for her that he was sure he had never felt before. Before she left to return to Rome, he askd her father's blessings to propose to his daughter. The old man cried in joy, grateful that the boy had chosen his farm to offer help. The following summer, following the girls college graduation, the boy and girl had a small wedding at the farmers house. Later that year, she was blessed with child and the man a grandson. They named the child after the grandfather, agreeing to carry on the family name. The following summer, the old man passed away, leaving the farm to his new family to care for. The girl soon began teaching in town at the local school and the farmboy continued to work the old farmers land. Together they lived out many joyous years on this farm and had more children to carry on her family name. The farm boy, Jordan, and the girl, Natalia lived happily.
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Story 3 for FarmBoy
Author:jollytiml
From:New Brunswick, Canada
January 29, 2010
A Dream and a Farm
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As a farmer
As a farmer
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In addition to growing a variety of vegetables, Patrick grew up tending goats, feeding the chickens, cleaning out the pigs and putting straw out for the cows on his parent’s farm in the hills of New Hampshire. Among all the livestock, however, his favorites were the sheep. He loved sitting in the pasture under a blue sky with puffy white clouds overhead, watching the sheep contentedly graze the fresh green grass. The normally timid lambs would be much bolder when they saw him thus at their level and it was a particular thrill when they’d come up and touch his hand. It was at times like this that Patrick would dream of his future, dream of finding and marrying a beautiful foreign bride, and dream of owning their own farm someday. In his mind’s eye, he could picture the perfect place with beautiful fields nestled in the hills near the ocean. As he grew older, however, he realized how unlikely his dream was. What beautiful foreign woman would ever want to be married to a farmer?
Now I must tell you a little more about Patrick and his family. His mother was Italian and his father an American. Because they were in America and his father did not know Italian, Patrick grew up without ever really learning the language of his mother. His father had developed a heart condition so Patrick had to do most of the hard work around the farm. Many would have pitied Patrick, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed working in the open air and caring for the animals. It also gave him lots of time to dream.
Well, one day they heard from his mother’s brother that their family was coming to America with some friends and asking if they could come for a visit in about 2 month’s time. Along with some pictures of their family, they sent some pictures of their friends. Nothing prepared him for the breathtakingly beautiful picture of Victoria, the friend of Patrick’s niece. He asked his mom about her only to find out she was a model in Italy that had gone to school with his niece and they were good friends. It all came rushing back, his dreams of a beautiful foreign bride, his dreams of a farm in the hills, it all this was as vivid in his mind as it was in the days when he sat in the green grass under the blue skies with the sheep. One problem stood in his way. He did not know their language and he so badly wanted to talk to Victoria and spend time with her when she came. Without telling the full reason, he confided in a friend his urgent desire to learn Italian and his friend recommended Rossetta Stone. Before the day was out, he had talked to the helpful representative at Rosetta Stone and ordered the course. As soon as it arrived, he wasted no time at getting it set up and spending all his free time eagerly learning. His mother was delighted to see his interest in her native language. She was surprised to see him so dedicated, but happy all the same. When the 2 months were finally over, Patrick was fluent enough to speak fairly good Italian. While doing chores and other things, he rehearsed again and again what he would say. He knew he had but one chance to impress her…
Victoria, grew up in one of the larger cities in Italy. She was an only child of her parents and her father had died when she was quite young. She was a kind young person with a real love for animals. She had a cat and a dog, but they were difficult to keep in the city and she would spend hours dreaming of having a farm someday where she could keep as many animals as she liked. After her father died, however, they had to live frugally in order to make ends meet and her dream of having a farm seemed out of reach.
As Victoria grew, she became a strikingly beautiful young lady and was noticed by more and more people. Although outgoing and kind, she knew she did not want to spend her life in the city, and longed for the outdoor freedom of fields and woods. After school, she was offered a job as a model and flourished in her role, but her real heart’s desires were not fulfilled yet. She had wanted to go to America for some time, but was timid about going to a new country. When her friends told her they were going and would be visiting relatives, she jumped at the idea and they were only too happy to oblige. As Victoria thought about it, however, she realized she did not know too much English. She learned what she could but her busy schedule and all the preparations did not afford her much time.
The two months sped by for Patrick and then the day came when his relatives and their friends would arrive. He noticed Victoria right away and she was even more beautiful in real life. Though he was a bit shy, the Rosetta Stone course had taught him a lot. He wasted no time in trying his Italian. For the relatives from Italy, this was a pleasant surprise. Victoria was especially impressed since she did not know English all that well and finally here was someone in America she could talk to. Within a couple days, Victoria was up early and asked to go to the barn with Patrick. Patrick was all too thrilled to have her company. She loved the animals and loved being able to talk with Patrick. The relatives did not stay long, but these days were the best Patrick could ever remember. He kept in touch with Victoria and their love blossomed.
Eventually, Patrick moved to Italy where he married Victoria and they bought a farm in the hills near the ocean. He would always look back fondly on the two months prior to Victoria’s visit and be glad he put so much effort into learning Italian. After all, how can you get to know someone if you don’t speak their language.
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Story 4 for FarmBoy
Author:Bruce189
From:La Mirada, CA
January 29, 2010
The Lucky Farmer
He was a farm boy. She was an Italian model. He knew he had one shot.
She was on a photo shoot in Virginia. To relax, she ventured off to a nearby a farm where she saw a small orchard. Overtaken with the urge to pick a ripe apple, she crossed the rickety barbed-wire fence that housed the orchard. Not seeing the photo shoot beyond his field, the resident farm boy was surprised to see a preened blonde meandering about his trees.
The boy curiously approach for a closer look, but seeing that she was beautiful abruptly halted with wide eyes and a gaping jaw. He wanted to talk to her but did not know what to say. He waited, and like a kid mustering the pluck to leap from a high place, approached her with forced confidence.
Although she was not looking at him, he gestured an awkward wave and stuttered a tongue-tied, “Hello.” She, being startled, turned to him, dropped an apple, and interjected, “Mi perdoni.” As though rehearsed, he responded, “Mi sono perso,” or “I am lost”. Understanding that he meant to ask if she was lost, she laughed and, appreciating his attempt to speak her language, began to converse.
The farm boy was fortunate. Had he not been practicing Italian phrases for his upcoming vacation he would not have responded in Italian, the conversation would have been brief, and they would not have reconnected three weeks later on the Mediterranean.
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Story 5 for FarmBoy
Author:marisatex
From:near Fredericksburg, TX
January 29, 2010
Pecans and a Lamborghini
Everything about her was long and lean. Her legs, her arms, her hair, her nose. Even her eyebrows.
He took off his Texas Longhorns cap. “Need some help, ma’am?”
“Allo. Io non parlano inglese. No English.”
“Oh. Buon Giorno, Signorina.”
“The car stopped. For no reason,” she told him, in Italian.
And he understood her because he’d just been studying Italian on his laptop. Every afternoon he studied a little, sitting under the big old pecan tree.
The gas gauge read almost full. He looked under the hood. A broken fan belt. He cell-phoned into town. Nothing in stock for a Lamborghini.
So he helped her into his battered blue Ford pick-up and bought her dinner in Fredericksburg. Speaking to her in Italian, he learned that she was a supermodel, touring Hill Country for a day or two after a book-signing in Dallas.
Two days later, he smiled as the Lamborghini drove away. The supermodel’s cell-phone number was archived in his cell-phone. And, just in case, in his laptop.
They married in an ancient chapel perched high up above Florence. And they traveled happily ever after. The lonely Italian supermodel and the Texas farm boy who spoke her language.
Thanks to Rosetta Stone.
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Story 6 for FarmBoy
Author:FilhaDoRei
From:Honolulu, HI
January 29, 2010
Spettacolare
He was a hardworking farm boy.
She was an Italian supermodel.
He knew he would have just one chance to impress her, but Sasha Williams wasn't sure how yet.
Amalea-Lucia Sonetti. Just the thought of her name brought a wide grin to Sasha's face. He was running an errand in town when first encountered Amelea-Lucia. He was going over his mental list of what he needed to buy, when he accidentally bumped into the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Sasha quickly apologized with the tip of his cap. He stood motionless as she smiled at him with understanding. Then he watched as she turned around and disappeared into to the crowd.
A few days later he was passing a news stand when something caught his eye. That same girl was featured on the front cover of a popular Italian fashion magazine. The blurb next to her picture boasted an article about the newest young supermodel, Amelea-Lucia Sonetti. Being a 19-year-old from central Califorinia, Sasha hardly considered himself anywhere near being in her league. So Sasha knew that whatever he did to impress her would have to be something...spettacolare - spectacular. Since then, he'd only catch glimpses of her around town and always hoped he'd get one more.
Presently, Sasha's mind left the world around him as thoughts entered a place where he and Amelea-Lucia were living in marital bliss. They were owners of small vineyard and lived a spacious two-story house in the Tuscan countryside by the sea. Their four kids - two boys and two girls - were playing together in the large backyard. Three lovable dogs were -
"Sasha!" His reverie was interrupted. A man was looking up at Sasha from a squatted position with one eyebrow raised.
"Mi dispiace, Signore Marinuzzi." Sasha apologized, "Let me help you with that." Sasha shook his head as if to remove the daydreaming thoughts from his head. Giuseppe Marinuzzi, a man in his late fifties, was the owner of the vineyard in Italy where Sasha was an apprentice. Signore grumbled something under his breath in Italian and Sasha winced slightly. Normally a young man who concentrated on his work, Sasha had to make sure his performance didn't suffer. A distant cousin of Sasha's mother, Signore offered Sasha an amazing opportunity to do a year-long apprenticeship at the Marinuzzi Tuscan vineyard. Sasha's dream was to run his own vineyard one day and was elated when Signore offered to apprentice under him after high school. Having taken Italian classes the last four years, Sasha knew his language skills would improve even more by living in Italy.
Now Sasha picked up the opposite end of a large wooden log. The men heaved the remaining log on the pile in the back of a pick-up truck and Sasha lifted the tailgate to lock it into place.
"Grazie," Giuseppe thanked him. He pulled out a handkerchief from the back pocket of his overalls and wiped the perspiration from his brow. Even though it was early evening, the summer Tuscan sun had yet to relinquish it's intensity. "Let us drive the wood up to the barn and you can be done for the day." Signore had
Sasha got into the driver's side of the well-used truck's cab while Signore went to the passenger side. They drove uphill from the vineyard to a large barn. In the rear-view mirror Sasha could see the Mediterranean Sea few miles from edge of the Marinuzzi vineyard.
"You go ahead up to the house. Per favore, tell Graziella I will be up for la cena soon. I want to check on something first here."
"Sì, Signore. A presto, see you soon at dinner."
Sasha made walked the short distance from the barn up to the house. While he was still several yards from the house, Sasha's nose picked up the smell of Signora's amazing cooking. He was glad he was hungry, because Signora loved to cook - and in great quantities! No matter the amount of food on his plate with food, Signora was convinced there was always room for more. Sasha was just glad that his work around the vineyard balanced out his daily Italian food intake. He noted the extra car parked in the gravel driveway. Signora's twin sister Gabriela is joining us for dinner, he thought with a smile. Each sister was quite witty on her own, but the both of them together... Let's just say you'd either want to kiss their rosy cheeks or duck under the table with embarrassment.
Zia Gabriela swung the front door open with a large grin on her face. Gabriela insisted he use zia, the Italian word for aunt. Her grin was bigger than usual with a hint of mischief. Very suspect.
"Buona sera, Sasha! Come stai?" Even though the question was directed towards him, Zia kept looking over her shoulder into the house.
"Abbastanza bene, grazie. Doing pretty good," he answered cautiously. "Come sta?"
Instead of answering, Zia grabbed his hand, planted a kiss on each of his cheeks and pulled him inside. She hastily guided him towards the living room. He opened his mouth to protest that he should clean up before he tracked dirt everywhere, when he stopped dead in his tracks. There in the living room sat the long-legged, tan-skinned, well-groomed Amalea-Lucia. Just like her part of her name - Lucia - she seemed to light up the whole room with her very presence. Sasha wished his own work clothes were more presentable. At least clean.
This is far from 'spectacular,' Sasha thought gravely. Nevertheless, he nodded and greeted Amelea. She didn't appear to be surprised to see him when returning the greeting. In fact, she looked somewhat amused and...perhaps pleased? Zia Gabriela's eyes bounced back and forth between the two, her face exuding excitement. Then seeing the puzzled look on Sasha's face, Zia preceded to explain Amalea's presence. Amalea was the granddaughter of her good friend and had kindly accepted the invitation to join them for dinner. She was there in her hometown for a few weeks before her doing some extensive traveling for work.
"Mi dispiace," Sasha quickly excused himself from the room before Zia could keep him there in his unkempt state any longer.
Fifteen minutes later, Sasha descended the stairs freshly showered and in a pair of clean jeans and a short-sleeved collared shirt. He walked towards the living room, but it was empty. As Sasha passed the dining room, he heard the laughter and animated talking of women coming from the kitchen. Through the large entrance of the kitchen, Sasha found the ladies with their backs to him, standing side-by-side at the wooden counter. Amalea was in the middle wearing one Signora's aprons, cutting up fresh tomatoes along with the sisters. Sasha stood at the entrance a few moments just to observe the donnas italianas enjoying each other's company. Signora sensed his presence and without turning around to face him she asked him to set the table. He said he would and finally relayed Signore's message. At the sound of his voice, Amalea glanced over her shoulder. Before turning back to her chopping, she gave Sasha a quick smile that almost melted his heart. It was amazing how such a small act could affect him so much. Sasha wondered how he was going to get through dinner in one piece.
He prayed silently to God for strength, protection for his heart and guidance as he set the table. Soon the bruschetta was on the table and everyone was seated. The seating arrangements, as directed by Signora and Zia Gabriela, "conveniently" placed Sasha and Amelea directly across from each other. Everyone held the hand of the next person and with bowed heads, Signore thanked God for His provisions and asked His blessing upon the food and the family.
The conversation started out normal. Topics centered around the accounts of the day, the weather, a new piece of equipment one of the neighbors just bought, and the like. Everyone asked about each other's day, but Signora and Zia Gabriela seemed to be itching to talk about something else. Signora suddenly turned to Sasha and started bragging about Amelea-Lucia's work as a model. How successful she'd become in such a short period of time. Then during the first course of ravioli di ricotta e spinaci, Zia Gabriela rambled on to Amalea about Sasha. What a help he's been to Signore with the vineyard and to Signora around the ho use. How much his Italian had improved since being there. Amalea smiled and nodded, looking across at Sasha every now and then. She didn't make any comments. Not that she could, with Zia's constant talking, accompanied by animated arm and hand movements.
In the midst of all this, Signore quietly ate his food, occasionally shaking his head at the conversation going on. He'd long learned that it would be no use in trying to persuade the ladies not to mettle. All Sasha could do is continue eating. He caught Amalea's eyes as he lifted his glass to his lips for a sip of the Marinuzzi family vino. Setting down the glass, he held her gaze for a long time.
Two years later...
Signora and Zia Gabriela were enjoying some tea at Marinuzzi kitchen table. In ran a little boy, followed by Sasha. Signora was about to ask him where his wife was, when Amalea-Lucia entered the kitchen. Both sisters smiled as they looked at Amalea-Lucia's growing belly.
"So how's life, Sasha?" Signora asked.
Reaching for his wife's hand and looking her in the eyes, he replied, "Spettacolare."
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Story 7 for FarmBoy
Author:Petezerria
From:Panama City,Florida
January 29, 2010
Levis And Stage Lights
American farm boy-Italian Super Model
(Levis and Stage lights)
I want to tell a story, with an ending that will sound like a tale. The actual time or minor details won’t add or subtract from what will be told or need to be told.
A young man worked on a farm that his father owned and where he learned to love the land. All he could think about recently was his chance to bid on a farm owned by his aging neighbor. A chance he couldn’t let slip away. The old neighbor wanted to sell but, would only sell to a young farmer. This farmer neighbor was usually cross. The old neighbor wasn’t sure when would be the best time to sell. This neighbor was usually obstinate. The farm boy understood he had to be available when the neighbor decided it was time to sell.
The boy felt very uncomfortable but obligated when his own aging father asked him to drive the 3 hour round trip from New Hampshire to Boston’s Logan Airport to pick up his younger sister that attended The American University in Rome, Italy for the past year.
The drive was tedious being so far away and so close to the time the neighbor might sell.
He met his sister in the terminal. As he picked up her bags, his sister told him that she “brought a fellow student that would be visiting from Italy.” His sister stepped aside and a dark haired woman smiled. Her almond eyes met his they became two people transfixed. She couldn’t look away from his blue eyes. His sister watching raised her voice slightly and introduced both of them. “Questo `e il mio fratello.” Meaning: “This is my brother.” She introduced her Italian friend she invited to stay at their parent’s house for 2 weeks. “She’s a Super Model.” His sister watched them both stare at each other and finally blurted, “Where are you parked?”
The drive home was a combination of Italian and periods of silence. When they arrived their parents greeted them.
After lunch, the boy told his sister how he felt about the girl.
His sister announced she had business in town and asked her brother if he would show the Italian girl the farm. He agreed, but worried about the language. His sister handed him an English-Italian dictionary. “This will help.” She said. But, you will both need to take a language course.
They boy and the model looked over the farm and having fun sitting in the pick-up laughing and passing the dictionary back and forth.
With all the time together, time had passed quickly and was almost over and the Model had to leave. They became very close. The boy’s sister was worried about his feelings.
The Italian girl told the boy’s sister how she felt about her brother her brother and she didn’t want the relationship to end and “did she think her brother could learn to like Los Angeles?” His sister told her, “He knows he belongs on the farm and maybe he could be content in Los Angeles but, never happy”. The Italian girl nodded sadly.
The last day came and there was a profound sadness settle over the New Hampshire farm house.
During breakfast the phone rang and it was a real estate agent on the phone telling the boy the next door neighbor was ready to sell “and be ready to sign the papers at that day.” The boy answered “yes”. The Italian girl asked the boy’s sister what was happening and she explained about the sale but, it had to be that day
The Italian girl quietly got up and her and the farm boy held each other.
The time for the drive to the airport came and the boy and the wonderful Italian woman kissed for the last time. The boy was in love but, he was also a responsible young man. and his future would begin that day. He had to think about that. The unlikely couple exchanged phrases of affection they had learned together and kissed for the last time,
He walked back to the porch and told his father he should drive to town and pick up the supplies they ordered. His father asked if he wanted company and he said no and
Half hour later he was sitting in front of the feed store thinking about the woman he loved. He put the truck in reverse and headed to Logan Airport. He decided he had to be with the woman he loved. He had his credit card and if he hurried there was still time to meet her at the airport and they could fly to LA together.
The farm next door would have to wait for someone else and he wasn’t going to give up the best woman in the world to buy it. He felt he had to do this for her as much as himself.
He arrived at Logan airport in time to make her flight. He didn’t call his sister before on his cell phone because he thought she would try and talk him out of coming to the airport and missing his chance at the new farm. In his grief he drove off without his cell phone. He wasted 15 minutes before he thought about calling his sister’s cell from a pay phone. He called and reached his sister and she excitedly asked where he was. He told her then asked where his girlfriend was. His sister put her on the phone and she told him “Ti amo” (“I love you.”) He told her he loved her. They talked a little longer and his sister came back on the phone and said, “Your needed home” Panicking, he asked “Is everything OK?” His sister said, “Everything is fine” her and his “girlfriend were fine but,” please go home, I’ll explain later” with finality in her voice. He trusted his sister and didn’t press her for answers. He told her he was on his way. She emphatically told him not to “get into an accident coming home.” and hung up
The trip home was fast but, seemed like forever to the boy. When He got home all the lights were off except the porch light and he saw a note on the front door instructing him to go his neighbors farm next door.
When he arrived next door he was shocked to see his parents, sister and his Italian girl friend through the front door window. He saw his old neighbor sitting in his wheel chair laughing and talking to his Italian lady while his parents and sister quietly looked on.
He knocked and his sister let him in putting her finger up to her smiling mouth telling him to be quiet.” I thought she left and I missed her?” The boy whispered. “It was her idea to come back” his sister whispered back. “When she found out you had went to look for her and I told her about your missed chance to buy the farm, well, she insisted she wanted to come over here and see if she could talk the old man into selling it to you and it sounds like she succeeded” His sister whispered. “But what about her film career? The boy quietly said. “It looks like she wants to make you her career now” his sister said as she looked at the old man and the Italian girl.
The only audible noise in the room was the old man laughing and smiling with the Italian girl. The old man finally saw the boy, turned his wheel chair and pointed a boney finger in the air smiled and said,” If you don’t marry this girl quick ,I’m going to marry her.” “You’re going to need a wife to help you take care of this old farm I’m going to sell you.” The old man snorted. That’s my intention” the boy said.
The boy and the girl walked toward each other to the center of the room the Italian girl looked down slightly then looked up and as the boy looked into her almond eyes she looked into his blue eyes as they simultaneously said, “Ti amo.”
Fini
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Story 8 for FarmBoy
Author:todd
From:columbus, indiana
January 29, 2010
my sun
Since its blazing fingers first caressed the skies, any thought of competition fled as shadows. The moon, though mysterious in its aloof distance, provided a poor reflection of its glorious opposite. They were of opposite worlds, these two wonders, and so they thought little of the other--possibly they knew nothing of the other's existence.
With the cake of earth etched into his skin, the pages of his astronomy book turned beneath the Farm Boy's hands. In its very nature, the universe confirmed the structure of society. The moon belonged among stars-- beautiful in their own, but commonplace. This was where he belonged. The world beyond was unattainable, and so was she.
Yet maybe there could be more to the story. The Italian beauty wasn't of his world, but he could show her his interest in hers. Even the moon reflected the beauty of its eternal partner back upon the world they shared. Yes, the skies had room enough for both, but what of the sun? Would she welcome his intrusion upon her glistening world?
There was very little in this town that met her curious gaze with anything but adoration--the American workers, with their homespun ways, the brightening simplicity of a sunflower. The entire plain whispered of its quaint people and simple ways. Even the profusion of plaid was a relief from the familiarity of silk and organdy. Still, the spotlight had followed her across an entire ocean; and despite any desire for a moment's release, already she missed home. The comfort of her native language had fled with the plane's descent. The abrupt language of the Americans refused her attempts to learn, leaving her voiceless in a foreign country. She was now the two-dimensial being she had always appeared, a glorified model robbed of her true character. The thoughts circled in an endless loop of loss, leaving her---
"Ummphh!" the model backed quickly, unentangling herself from a wall of plaid and denim. A sun-bronzed hand brushed dirt apologetically off her arm. Her own words spilled forth in embarrassingly stilted English. A brilliant yellow box spilled upon the ground. A pair of warm eyes gazed understandingly into her own. "It's alright, Miss," he beamed, "No harm done."
She turned to leave, but a hand caught her elbow, and in her own tongue the words, "Can't we share the skies together my sun?"
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Story 9 for FarmBoy
Author:Imbued
From:Chicago, IL
January 29, 2010
She & Him
He was a hard working farm boy.
She was an Italian supermodel.
He only had one chance to impress her.
They start talking. It turns out that she grew up on a farm herself. She’s never told this to anyone before. It’s her deep dark secret. A blot on her life. But he doesn’t see it that way. In fact, it makes her even more endearing in his eyes. It is no longer a conversation between fan and celebrity. When he starts talking about farming; how hard work is something to be proud of, not ashamed of; it’s like a light has been switched on. He sparkles. He glows. He’s an alligator that just discovered water. She is captivated. He looks at her and sees that an interesting change has taken place. She is more beautiful than ever before, because it’s coming from somewhere other than her face. Heart, mind and soul stand illuminated before him. He’s made a connection of the best kind. Better than he had ever hoped for.
She is in town for three more days, and each one is spent with him and his family at the farm. She does not expect special treatment. She washes dishes, milks cows, lends some of her family’s recipes to the table. She is a girl transported. It has been so long since she worked for what she wanted, and was happy to do it, that the effect is utter contentment. On the last day, she asks him to come back to Italy with her. He is not entirely surprised, but entirely delighted. He feels that maybe it is not him that she needs, but the lost part of herself that he is able to remind her of. But that is okay. His love for her doesn’t require direct affection. So long as there is some, it doesn’t matter where it stemmed from.
He has never been out his state before, let alone the country. And sitting in the airport in Italy, waiting for the cab, with the outside world so close and yet so far, he sits stiff as a board. She can see how nervous he is. She leans over and gives him a sisterly kiss of the cheek. He is a puddle in his chair.
Over the next four weeks, many beautiful sights accost and caress. The sun, the people, the food—even the air. It’s all wonderful. And all of it’s different. By day, he wanders village streets, music floating and swirling around crumbly, elegant buildings. He savors the stories of grandmas and grandpas, crinkly and tan, and the ramblings of toddlers, determined to introduce him to every toy in their possession. By night, she takes him to nightclubs and parties, big dinners at important people’s houses. Everybody loves him, wherever he goes. All of it wonderful, until it wasn’t.
They have just left a dinner at the house of a famous director. They are as stuffed as taxidermied animals. He looks for the cab that she said was waiting outside, but doesn’t see it. She smiles, and walks to a sleek black car. She produces a small key from her dress pocket with all the flourish of a magician plucking a coin from an ear. She laughs and gives him a huge hug. Her first car. She bought it yesterday and wanted to surprise him. They hop in, her at the wheel. She laughs, big and loud, not like the giggle she employs at parties. It’s then that it hits him; she feels safe around him, isn’t afraid to be herself. Why did he hide his feelings from her all this time, when she has never hidden a single thing from him? The little car zooms down the quiet, old streets. He looks at her lovely face, looking out through the tinted windshield, smiling with all of her front teeth showing, streetlamp light sifting in. He knows he has to tell her. His lips form the first of the many words he’s been dying to say; only it’s not his voice that explodes into the car, but a gun’s.
There is a crumpling sound in the metal door, like a hole punched through sheets and sheets of tinfoil by a horse’s hoof. Her eyes widen with fear, and he realizes he’s never seen her afraid. It’s unsettling. It makes her look like an old person who has wheedled their way into looking young again. He asks her what’s going on, but she shakes her head quickly and presses harder on the accelerator. The bullets hitting the car sound like rain hitting a window. The windshield shatters, spraying glass. BAM! The car crashes into a light post. She is hit. He cannot believe this is happening, cannot believe her blood is staining his hands. He grabs her cellphone, calls the police, and unleashes a flurry of Italian. They’re on their way. People are getting out of the car behind them, probably to make sure they’re dead. He quickly slumps over in his seat, trying not to sob or do anything else that would give them away. They saunter past and observe the damage with a smile, pleased with their handiwork. Then they hear the sirens. They try to scramble back to the car, but he is too quick for them. He starts the engine, shifts to reverse, zips backwards, and crushes their car. The car totaled, the mobsters flit about like flies, looking for a way to escape, for a place to hide. The sirens swell, the police and medics come rushing, handcuffs chink, he slowly slumps over onto her shoulder, and everything fades to black.
Two months later…
In one week, she can go home. He sits next to her hospital bed, smiling with his eyes, waiting for her reaction to the news. She shifts her gaze from the ceiling to him, and smiles right back. She’s made an amazing recovery, and she knows it. It’s time for him to go back to work, his break nearly over, so he rises from his chair, bends over and gives her a small kiss on the forehead. He straightens up, gathers his things, and heads for the door. “Thank you.” She calls, him nearly out of its frame. “For what?” he says with a quiet smile. “For coming to Italy with me.” He laughs and looks down. She would never love him as a husband, but as a friend? Always. He was beginning to think that maybe, he could do the same. He had changed her life, and she had changed his. And in a way, that’s all any of us can hope for. He makes his way back to the film set, has a cup of coffee, sets about adjusting lights and cables. The famous director gave him a job after the accident. He is happy. It seems as if everything is going to be okay.
After her recovery, her doctor proposes to her. And to everyone’s surprise (including the doctor’s) she accepts. They are in love. The farm boy approves of him; he is smart, kind, and handsome. And the young doctor knows how to make her laugh. He is best man at the wedding. After the ceremony, still in his nice clothes, he walks around the corner from the church. It is so sunny you can almost smell it, heavy and sweet. There is a little café with outdoor seating, so he takes a metal chair, and waits for a server. She comes quickly, with a tray held high above her head, planning to take his order on her way to drop off dishes. They are busy, and she is trying to do everything at once. She is pretty good at it, and would have been all right if an obnoxious customer hadn’t decided to leave their bag so far from their table. She is calling something to the kitchen in Italian as she walks to his table, and mid-sentence gives a small yelp as she and the dirty espresso cups she was carrying go flying. She falls into his lap and his life simultaneously. He raises his eyebrows with a bemused smile, and notices she has lovely grey eyes. “Buon giorno!” he laughs.
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Story 10 for FarmBoy
Author:EternalPhoenix
From:Lacey, WA
January 29, 2010
A Hope and a Prayer
Victor, hands sweaty, eyes twitching, beads of perspiration running down his face and under the collar of his shirt, wished the sun wasn’t glaring down on him. Tie in hand, he was bent over the side mirror of his beat up Ford truck attempting to make a knot with the ridiculously silky material. He huffed as yet another attempt ended with something looking that looked like the tie was choking him with a hideously crooked knot to hold it in place. He was a farm boy, Victor thought, not a New York businessman who did this day in and day out.
In frustration, Victor stomped his foot, dust rising up onto his black slacks and stubbornly clinging to it. Attempting to brush it off, he stooped down and began brushing it off vigorously.
After getting most of the dust off, he took the tie off and threw it in the back of his pickup, next to his guitar and toolbox. Victor unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and took a deep breath. Inside the coffee shop was someone waiting on a hope and a prayer. Of course, he had parked out of view of the coffee shop. Still a nervous wreck, he feared that if he saw her while driving he might forget himself or the truck and plow right into the front of the shop. No, he couldn’t afford such a mistake.
He leaned down, adjusted his boots, and repositioned the slacks over it. White shirt freshly bleached and starched, he though he cleaned up nice.
Victor turned towards the parking lot exit and began to walk. Just take deep breaths and smile, he told himself.
Walking past the barb wired fence that separated the lot from the world, he took a right and headed towards 6th. Brick buildings casted eerie shadows on the sidewalk, and mirages from the intense heat rose from the asphalt like ghostly images of memories long lost.
He reached the corner of 6th, turned the corner, and was blinded. Parked in front of the shop was a gleaming Mercedes-Benz. He was way out of league he thought as he began to hyperventilate. Then an elderly gentleman exited the shop and opened the door to the car. A sense of relief washed over him. Shifty eyes scanned the impenetrable glare of the front windows.
Stepping towards the edge, he overstepped and caught his foot on the edge of the curb. Floundering like a Tuna on a dock, he regained his balance, his face beet red, his heart fluttering. He hoped she hadn’t seen that. My goodness, he really hoped she didn’t see that.
Pressing forward, Victor crossed 6th, nearly causing an accident that would of involved him, a parking meter and a car, and finally reached the door to the coffee shop. He reached out to grab hold of the silver door handle, electricity flowing through his veins, his legs begging to not move, he opened the door and stepped inside.
He took a moment standing in the door frame for his eyes to adjust to the darkened lighting in the room. As he did so, the chatter began to become quieter and quieter. Eyes adjusting so slowly he swore he aged forty years, he finally could see the room.
Sun flowers décor ran along the ceiling border of the room as bright yellows and greens accented the table tops and chairs. He scanned the room, praying that she was both here and not. Then she saw her.
The wind caught her brown hair as the sunlight danced in her eyes. Skin as toned as an olive branch, her stunning blue eyes penetrated his soul. Their eyes met, recognition lighting hers up like a thousand suns. She slowly broke a smile as he chuckled.
Victor closed the door, and glided across the room. Then the unthinkable happened, eyes locked on her, his foot caught a chair. He began to fall, but caught himself on the edge of another table, which in turn tipped towards him and delivered the customers drinks onto his white shirt.
With the grace of an eagle, she stood and went to the counter. Victor looked up, half expecting to see her grab her clutch and head out the door. Instead, she had grabbed napkins and was coming towards him. Victor was beet red, wishing he could climb into himself and hide for all eternity. She reached out a hand to help him up, and he took it.
Skin as silky as the moon, his as smooth as desert sand, electricity passed between them. He got to his feet. “Thank you,” Victor said. Then he smacked his head. He hadn’t taken all those language lessons to speak Italian to just blurt out English with a southern drawl. “Ummmm…” thinking quick, Victor tried to remember the phrase in Italian. “Your welcome.” Stunned silence spread across the room. “I didn’t expect to come to America and not know English. I’d be like a fish out of the water.” Victor laughed, she laughed. “My name is Anna Delicioti. I guess I am your new daughter.” Victor laughed, and embraced Anna. “Welcome home Anna. My wife and I are so glad we could sponsor you!”
Since then, Anna has always kept in contact with Victor and his wife. They had provided her with a new life as sponsors for her. She was a supermodel in Italy, but now she could continue her legacy in the states. Kindness and sympathy granted her the power to become renowned, and she had a simple farmer boy who drove a beat up Ford and couldn’t seem to stay out of harms way to thank.
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