A/N: Oooo, a Godfather fic! One of the best movie(s) of all time. See it if
you haven't.
Muse-sama: "She's writing Godfather fic now? What is the world coming to? And does she ever write anything resembling normal?"
Anie: "Yes, who knows, and no. Read."
I watch him come out from the shadows, into the faint light of the lamp. Even with the blackened eye, he is handsome.
No, he is beautiful.
I remember well the day we met. He had just arrived in Italy. I was walking along the road with some other women and their children. He looked at me; that look, as if he was studying me. It seemed as if he either wanted to paint a portrait of me or ravish me at that moment. I am not sure which. I have never seen so much in a man's eyes. I knew he would be mine. I would make him mine, if I never did anything else in my life.
We met again later. He wanted to court me. I still am not sure how he convinced my father, but I am happy he did. The daughter of a don has little leeway in romance, and neither does a good Catholic.
We talked and we laughed. Sometimes I would creep out of the house at night and we would meet on a hill overlooking the ocean. There under the moon I would sing old opera arias for him, and he would hold me in his arms and whisper in my ears. One night we walked down to the old witch's house. She was known for her ability to predict the future.
We sat in her kitchen. She lit candles - white and black - and began to chant under her breath, so quietly that I could not catch her words. She stared into the flames, ignoring us, as if we did not exist. Then she exhaled slowly and her prediction came.
"Life is brief; make the most of it."
She would not say any more, no matter how he pressed her. We left, and decided to make the most of life under the moonlit sky. I will never forget that night.
Her prophecy was troubling, but I could not care less. Because at this moment, he comes closer, and begins to remove my chemise. We are finally married. After so long, he is mine, and I am his.
I kiss the bruised skin by his eye, and put my arms around his neck.
"I love you," I whisper into his ear. He does not reply, just picks me up and carries me to bed. He doesn't need to say anything; his eyes still tell me more than his voice ever could.
I am his forever.
A/N: Starving author, will work for reviews. . . you know you want to click that button. . .
Muse-sama: "She's writing Godfather fic now? What is the world coming to? And does she ever write anything resembling normal?"
Anie: "Yes, who knows, and no. Read."
I watch him come out from the shadows, into the faint light of the lamp. Even with the blackened eye, he is handsome.
No, he is beautiful.
I remember well the day we met. He had just arrived in Italy. I was walking along the road with some other women and their children. He looked at me; that look, as if he was studying me. It seemed as if he either wanted to paint a portrait of me or ravish me at that moment. I am not sure which. I have never seen so much in a man's eyes. I knew he would be mine. I would make him mine, if I never did anything else in my life.
We met again later. He wanted to court me. I still am not sure how he convinced my father, but I am happy he did. The daughter of a don has little leeway in romance, and neither does a good Catholic.
We talked and we laughed. Sometimes I would creep out of the house at night and we would meet on a hill overlooking the ocean. There under the moon I would sing old opera arias for him, and he would hold me in his arms and whisper in my ears. One night we walked down to the old witch's house. She was known for her ability to predict the future.
We sat in her kitchen. She lit candles - white and black - and began to chant under her breath, so quietly that I could not catch her words. She stared into the flames, ignoring us, as if we did not exist. Then she exhaled slowly and her prediction came.
"Life is brief; make the most of it."
She would not say any more, no matter how he pressed her. We left, and decided to make the most of life under the moonlit sky. I will never forget that night.
Her prophecy was troubling, but I could not care less. Because at this moment, he comes closer, and begins to remove my chemise. We are finally married. After so long, he is mine, and I am his.
I kiss the bruised skin by his eye, and put my arms around his neck.
"I love you," I whisper into his ear. He does not reply, just picks me up and carries me to bed. He doesn't need to say anything; his eyes still tell me more than his voice ever could.
I am his forever.
A/N: Starving author, will work for reviews. . . you know you want to click that button. . .