Hey people i hope you guys like the story so far, read on cause this story might not be the common material you get on Wattpad. Please please please vote and comment cause i  don't like my readers to be silent. Happy Reading!!!!

                          The small boat bumped and swayed slightly due to the steady melody-like flow of the calm sea. The waves crashed tamely on the sides of the boat, spreading out ripples throughout the water. Midnight had arrived, the sky was black and the sea dark; everyone on the boat was drowsy except for the rower, Carson and Marcello. The rower kept rowing, humming a tune under his breathe while Carson's face was hard and emotionless, fixed on the sea afar. Marcello stood there, still facing Lorient and staring deep in thought, the town which was slowly dispelling from there view. Thoughts thundered his mind and tears dampened his cheeks; but no one saw. Not a soul saw that Marcello, the person who never let emotions get to him, was silently crying, slowly breaking apart and shattering inside.

                       Marcello remembered the first time he had set foot on this city;

                     It was when his father  had uttered his last words and passed away, the time when his whole family's burden rested upon his shoulders. Marcello was only twenty at that time, his elder sister Cassendra was twenty-two and his younger sister Charlotte was only fifteen. Though Marcello had always loved painting and helped in his father's workshop now and then, he wasn't yet ready to start earning;he was enrolled in one of the best art schools in Florence and was exceptionally passionate and devoted towards what he did but after his father's death, there wasn't much money to spare. He had to quit the school against his will and started to work full time in the workshop, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough thus the workshop had to be closed down. With their only source of money gone, they all had to contribute to the family to keep it afloat. Cassendra knew knitting well enough to join a "Arts and Designs" school as a teacher; his Mama could play piano splendidly and his younger sister could sing admirably, so they went to wealthy houses on different occasions and entertained the guests with their talents. But even those weren't enough to feed the hungry mouths of four people. Being the only male in the house, it was his prime duty to start earning and give money to his family.

                 So he started working at a Bakery because that would at least ensure him some cash; within two weeks, he had already messed up numerous times and was close to losing his job. At the end of the miserable month, he decided that icing pies and baking buns  wasn't his cup of tea so he made up his mind to quit the job. He got so little amount of money that it seemed injustice for him to waste so much time on a job which will barely afford one day's food. He had gone to the manager to talk about his situation but was dismissed as they told him that he had done them more harm than profit; when he had insisted them to consider, they threatened him to charge him for the loss he had done to them and kicked him out, shouting to go tell his pity story elsewhere. After that, he decided to take up writing but no matter how hard he tried, the words he used where boring and the sentences seemed oddly wrong. Every night, he had to tolerate the harsh taunts and pitiful remarks of his family members. He was getting tired of this life; the life where he was useless and had to walk home every night, ashamed and jobless. Sometimes, he though of jumping off the vast bridge and end his misery but he was never that brave.

                Somehow, the World no longer seemed as beautiful as it was before. The flowers seemed to be withering and the sun seemed to be shining less brightly. He had given up writing as well and now he took one last shot. He applied to work as an art teacher in an institute; it took him three days to get an answer and at last  he did get it, the answer was a Big Fat NO!! Why, you may ask? The institute thought that he wasn't much experienced, had no proper earlier job record and his work "didn't meet their expectation". He didn't know what to do, if there was only one thing he was proud of, that was his paintings. His ego was inflicted and he was...he didn't know whether to laugh, cry, bawl, scream or get angry. His pride was hurt and his work was mocked. He tried one last time and rushed to the school in which he learnt painting; surely they would take him, after all, he was their most bright student but when the time came, everyone turned their back on his face. They told him that they were *gravely sad* but could not help him as his works were of an *amateur*. He remembered that these were the people that had once told him that he should work for them and they would accept him without hesitance. But yet again the answer was a NO. He begged, he pleaded, he even almost cried but the answer still remained a no.

                   When he was walking back home, he decided that he couldn't show is face in his home. So, in a split second he made up his mind, and took a paper and a pen a wrote a letter to send home:

Dear Mama,

I know that you love me very much and so do my sisters. You also know my undying love for you. After Papa's sudden and tragic death, things have been hard for us lately; providing food for four  mouths is a tough job and we all know it because we have all encountered the harsh and bitter reality. Being the only man in the house, I should have carried  out my responsibility to put food on the table but i have miserably failed. Mama,honestly, I tried but i just couldn't. Now i am nothing more than a burden to you and my  sisters and you know i never want that. I am so ashamed that I can no longer show my horrid face to you and my dear sisters. Thus, I have decided to leave the house. I know you will  never allow me to do such a thing so will not give you a chance to stop me. Trust me, I love you but i can not take it anymore. Suicide won't be my way out, you have already lost a lot, you  don't need to lose anymore.  I will make  contact if I ever become anyone worthy you could call your son. So, may this not be our last meeting. Please take great care of yourself and  my sisters. Forgive me for not being the son you deserve, forgive me for being a failure, forgive me for fleeing like a coward. I am sorry. May this not be the final Farewell.

Yours truly

Your son

Marcello

                             Then taking the money that he still had left in the pockets of his worn out shirt, he headed to the Bakery. There, he bought a small pack of bread, margarine and three plain cupcakes. He didn't keep any money with him apart from one Euro. Wrapping up all the food in his old discolored shawl, he walked home with it. He placed the note he had written in the middle of all the foods and knocked on the door thrice, loudly. Then, with all the energy he could muster up, he ran with all his might. He kept running without turning back, without stopping for a second.

                          He kept on running even after hearing a familiar shriek and loud sobs; the voice seemed to ring throughout the whole town, spreading its sorrow, heartache and suffering. The voice was of his beloved Mama, crying for her lost son. Marcello wanted to run back, hug her, kiss her, comfort her, assure her; but he did nothing but run. He couldn't run back now, he had already made his painful choice. 

                       Tears were streaming down his damp red cheeks. His eyes were puffy and swollen, his legs bruised and stumbling; still he ran until he reached the bridge. Evening had dawned upon the town, leaving the streets empty and silent and the air chilly. The very evening he had decided to jump off the bridge, end his miserable life. Yes, Marcello had indeed lied to his Mama to prevent her from getting hurt, to stop her old weak heart from breaking once again. He had hidden the bitter truth from her, the truth that he would commit suicide to end his agony.

                    As the streets grew emptier with each passing second, Marcello sat at the edge of the bridge, thinking. With the last of Florence's population disappearing from the streets, Marcello climbed onto the bridge, ready to leap off to his death into the murky water below. But just at that split second, a paper flying with great force of the wind was blown against his face. Angrily, he crumpled the paper and threw it aside. Then he gazed at the dark rippling water below him; he stared above at the starry sky, glistening full of diamond like stars. If he jumps, this will be the last time that his eyes rest upon the sky,stars, and every other trivial beauty of the marvelous yet depressing world. He closed his eyes and extended one of his legs, wobbling slightly. His breathe caught in his already knotted throat. Shaking his head and sighing, he got down; he wasn't brave enough. Maybe some contemplation on life would help him end it. He sat down again, his legs dangling below him carelessly. His umber eyes stared off at a distance as his hand reached out, straightening the paper that he had crumpled. Then deep in thought, his hands started to shape the paper into a boat, as if the hand had a mind of its own.

               His hands moved with rapidity, folding the paper here and there. Then making the last fold, he finished  making it.  On the other hand, his mind was totally consumed in the good times of his life, the times that existed before his world fell apart. He sighed and held up the boat before thinking of drowning it in the water below. As he held it up at eye-level, the words "apprentice" "artist" and "low payment" catches his eyes. He opens the paper and his eyes scan the words which surprisingly made him smile. 

"I am gonna do it! YES! I will go!"

                His face was at last stretched to a genuine smile and at last relief flooded his body. He wanted to run home and tell his Mama but he decided that he wouldn't , not just yet. First he would reach there and succeed and earn and then he would let his mother know.

"Thanks God. A chance is all I wanted and needed. Thank You!" he kissed the paper clutched in his hand close to his chest and looked at the sky above. He was convinced that there was a Creator who was watching, listening to us all.

                      The bumping of the boat brought Marcello back to the horrid reality. Yet again, he had not only disappointed his mother but also himself. He thought back to the paper that had made him so glad. The paper which had an advertisement had consisted of the information of an old artist who wanted an apprentice to teach someone his work as he had no children to take after him. The old yet kind man had wanted a youth of 14-27 who would learn from him and look after him as well. A place to stay would be provided though meals had to be paid for. He would pay the person according to his work. It seemed like a fair offer to Marcello at that time. He wanted a job and to let his talent get recognized and that advertisement would offer both. It was a win-win opportunity for him. The only problem-the place was in France.

                  Now as Marcello stared off at a distance and saw dawn slowing breaking, it seemed like the paper was what made him what he is now. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe it was just destiny..........

       2k words fellas!!! Longest i have written. Tell me whether you think it was destiny or a mere coincidence in the comments below!!!