Tale as Old as Time

La Petite Ville

(See if you can point out all of the foreshadowing in this lol)

A bright, beautiful, and independent young man that went by the name of Mitchell lived on the edge of a small and quaint village in France. The view from his perfectly manicured yard a top a squat hill was simply picturesque, his home surrounded and swallowed by an exquisite scenery of mountains and green, healthy trees. It was a paradise to an unexposed and sheltered boy of twenty years.

Mitchell lived a comfortable, minimalistic life with his parents and younger sister. His days were spent working in the gardens, and if the fruits and vegetables weren't occupying his time, then the small supply of books in Monsieur Jeremy's bookstore most certainly was. The shop was located in the center of the quiet village, where Mitch was currently making his way toward at a leisurely pace. It was a little town filled with little people hard at work baking, sewing, providing in general. Everyday was like the one before.

On this specific Monday morning the sun was shining down on the village particularly hot. While others complained of the heat and fanned themselves with rags or their own hands, Mitch ignored the sweat that was building under his arms and on his back. It would be harder than that to kill his always optimistic and merry attitude. Yes, his thin tunic may have been clinging to his skin like a child clinging to their mother, but he could not deny that he loved the warmth of the summer sun.

A book tucked under his arm, the brunette boy bobbed and weaved through the crowd at the center of the village. He passed the baker with his tray, like always, same old bread and rolls to sell. Every morning was just the same since the moment that he and his family came to the this small provincial town.

The townspeople liked to talk. They chattered amongst themselves, bickered, joked. Mitch often found himself shutting out the loud noises that surrounded him everywhere he went, only hearing few words and comments here and there. "Bonjour, how is your family," or "I need six eggs, no, that's too expensive."

"No denying he's a funny boy, that Mitchell."

Those were the worst of them. There were always people talking like that, some kinder than others, some, not so much. He pretended that it didn't bother him, that he couldn't care less about what the people of this town thought of him, which was partly true. What bothered him was that he didn't understand it, why they thought he was so odd. Was it because his father was an inventor? Or because he enjoyed reading? Maybe that was it, the men of this town were nearly illiterate, they only pretended they were smart.

He brushed the rude comment off and stepped into the small library that sat near the center of the village. The quiet of the store was a dramatic change from the loud bustle on the streets, but it was a welcome difference.

A man, no older than the age of thirty, appeared behind the counter near the far wall of the room. His hair was a mess and covered in dust, most likely from the old books in the back room, but never the less he wore a bright smile on his face.

"Well if it isn't the only bookworm in town," he spoke smoothly, a tone of humour laced in his speech, "Good day to you, Mitchell!"

Mitch nodded, sending the man a toothy grin.

"And you as well, Jeremy! Have you got anything new today?" He asked, talking about the book supply. It had been weeks since Mitch had read anything new.

The man, Jeremy, sighed, shaking his head, "I'm afraid not, but you may reread any of the old ones." And with that, he stalked back into the little room in the back, only to return a few seconds later, a frustrated look taking over his features, his hands on his hips.

Mitch raised an eyebrow, concerned and slightly curious at the same time.

"You look as if you've lost something again, dear friend." The dark haired boy pointed out. He had a knack for reading people, reading was his favorite thing to do.