Fred glanced up just in time to see a shadowy figure slip into the room. Ruggero Amalfi, the self-proclaimed 'man of culture' had entered stealthily, his eyes scanning the room with predatory intent. He moved cautiously, unaware of where the prized 'Don Quixote' volumes might be hidden. Without a moment's hesitation, Enzo sprang to his feet, barking fiercely. Fred followed suit, quickly rising from his chair. "Enzo, get him!" he shouted, and the loyal canine lunged at Ruggero with fierce determination.
Ruggero, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock. Enzo's growling and barking filled the room, a cacophony of protective fury. Fred advanced, determined to protect his home.
Ruggero desperately tried to fend off the dog, but Enzo's unrelenting attack left him with little choice but to retreat. As Ruggero scrambled to escape, Fred joined in, grabbing Ruggero's arm and attempting to restrain him. The struggle was intense, with furniture and books knocked askew in the chaos. With a final, frantic shove, Ruggero managed to break free from Fred's grasp. He shot a venomous look at Fred and Enzo before fleeing through the window and disappearing into the night.
As Fred surveyed the mess Ruggero had left behind, he couldn't understand why the man had broken into their home. Little did he know that Ruggero's obsession with the 'Don Quixote' volumes was just beginning, and this failed attempt was only the start of his determined pursuit.
A week later, Fred received a letter from a local shoemaker. The letter invited him to become an apprentice and instructed him to attend an interview early the next morning. The shoemaker had nine sons and two daughters, all eager to inherit his trade. He lived on the other side of the river. Intrigued, Fred wondered why, with so many children to inherit his trade, the shoemaker still wanted him as an extra apprentice.
The following day, when it was time to get up, Fred had a hard time fighting the temptation to sleep a bit longer, as waking up early was never his habit. The bed felt irresistibly comfortable, and the call of sleep was almost overpowering. Just as he was about to give in, the thought of securing a job appeared in his mind. This gave Fred the motivation to overcome the temptation and rise from his bed. He quickly dressed. Then he set out with Enzo. The morning air was crisp and cool, filled with the promise of a new adventure. To reach the shoemaker's place, Fred needed to cross a quaint stone bridge that spanned a gently flowing river, and then walk half a mile through a countryside path.
However, as they approached the bridge, Fred noticed a sign indicating that it was closed for repairs. After some searching, they found a narrow path that led to a small, makeshift footbridge further downstream. The bridge looked old but sturdy enough to cross. Carefully, they made their way across the footbridge.
Once across, they continued along the dirt path, which wound through a dense forest. The canopy above was thick, allowing only slivers of sunlight to pierce through, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
As they emerged from the dense forest, they were greeted by a flood of sunshine. In the distance, he spotted a large, old house. As he approached, he saw an elderly man was struggling with a heavy bag, his face etched with lines of effort and age.
Upon seeing Fred, the old man called out, "Young man, could you lend me a hand with this burden?" Fred hesitated for a moment, feeling the press of time on his shoulders. But seeing the old man's struggle, he decided to help. He.nodded and approached the man. "Of course, sir," he replied, taking hold of the bag. The weight of the bag surprised him, but he steadied himself and followed the old man inside.
Together, they entered the old house. Fred saw that the house looked as if nobody had been living there for some time.
The old man led Fred and Enzo through a dimly lit hall and up a winding staircase. "We need to take this to the top floor," he explained, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space. The house was four stories high, and the climb was arduous. Each step seemed to grow steeper, and the weight of the bag pressed heavily on Fred's shoulders. Yet, he persevered, driven by a sense of duty and determination.
As they ascended, Fred couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The old man's eyes seemed to glint with a strange light, and his movements were almost too fluid, too graceful for someone of his apparent age. But Fred pushed these thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.
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Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the top floor. The old man opened a heavy wooden door, revealing a chemical laboratory filled with strange, bubbling concoctions and mysterious equipment. Fred set the bag down with a sigh of relief, his muscles aching from the effort.
"Thank you, young man," the old man said, his voice smooth and almost hypnotic. "Would you care to stay for lunch? I've prepared a meal that I'm sure you'll find quite delightful."
Fred hesitated. He was due for an appointment and knew he shouldn't be late. "I'm sorry, sir, but I really must be going," he replied.
But the old man insisted, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Please, I insist. It would be a shame for you to leave without tasting my cooking." He gestured to a table laden with delicious-looking food, the aroma wafting through the air and tempting Fred's senses.
Topic: Catholic story: Fred's Treasures (Read 96 times)