Nico Paolo walked through the streets of a Collodi he no longer felt was home, his presence drawing wary glances from the townsfolk. They whispered among themselves and crossed their own hearts as they prayed for each other.

The boy's gaze fell upon his own reflection in rain puddles; he saw a stranger staring back: a bad lad forever lost to the shadows. He knew he'd never find his way back to permanent light… never become the entirely good man he once thought he could be. The realization suffocated yet liberated him!

Without warning, a group of burly men fueled by wine and courage stepped into his path.

"Leave NOW, devil spawn," one of them growled, his hand on the hilt of his club!

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As Nico walked on, closer, the men's faces contorted in fear, their eyes wide with horror at the sight of his!

“My parents are NOT devils!”

They tried to stand their ground, but their legs trembled beneath them!

“I've NOT harmed the poor!”

One of them tried to swing his sword, but his arm faltered!

“I've given you back your economy, YES?”

The others turned to flee, but their feet felt heavy!

“Be still, ALL of you, as you consider your actions and HEED my words.”

Unscathed but peeved, the thirteen-year-old sauntered on between the still standing men and through the gathered crowd, nobody daring to touch him!

He just wanted to save his parents from their struggles… to shield them from the cruel whims of fate. To a lesser degree, he wanted to fill the emptiness that had hollowed out his soul and to dispel the mist that so often infirmed his vision.