Fan fiction

Enrico?s Costly Mistake

The palm of your hand crushes the precious glass rosette
containing the heart of your love, which
together the fires of your passions used to sculpt.
bounds your eyes blind with coins though
Love stares back at you, her face finding your glance
with longing, from every direction you seek.
cannot find its somber note for the high pitches of greedy,
victorious cackles trail you in a trance of destruction,
piercing and splitting your eardrums.
is money?s grasp letting go, leaving gaps in your being; shattered reflections
multiply her impression a thousand times by echos inside voids which were
once filled by possession?s false substance.
Longing further
is the haze of dust during the explosion finally choking you, though it all
has lifted or settled.
is your trembling hands trying to string the shards of her remnants- drifting over the
waters surface- back together, but ending up with only a bungled necklace of
pendants clashing with laughter, containing bits of secrets now forever unbound.
Desperation and Denial
are your tears, flooding the lagoon- sending the drifting waters on a search through
the city for your long lost love who you know ran away in a flight of betrayal.
is what you were to be caught in the whim of other men?s plights and felt security
by following submissively to those who held power.
is your only hope for ridding yourself of this misery, though even the pounding of a horse?s
hooves are not fast enough to outrun unsated desire, the grace of a horse?s bounding freedom are lost upon the wind.
An Eternal Question
You thought that spying would bring you adventures and money to be thrown at your feet.
Coins are not thicker than the walls of your heart.
Knowing money can never melt to become her blood and remold her:
What cost can be reconciled that is greater than loss of love?
——— Devan Swan

Stravaganza book 4

Luciano sat cross-legged on the floor, beads of sweat trickling down his face. He was nervous. Probably more nervous than he had ever been. "Oh man," he said out loud. "This is worse than last Spring's math final." Lucien had never felt this way about any girl before, though he was almost 17 years old. 'I should talk to Rodolfo,' he thought. 'If anyone knows how the Duchessa thinks, he does.'

He had half a mind to visit the man right then and there. However, there was a knock at the door. Luciano sprang up to open it, flung the door open, and found himself face to face with Arianna. His face turned completely red. Lucien snuck a quick peek at the Duchessa, who turned away in embarrassment.

Quickly, he ushered her inside where they took a seat on Lucien's red velvet couch. 
"I'm glad you're here," he said at last. 
Arianna removed her mask and smiled. "I'm glad that you're finally becoming a real mandolier. Infact, I almost feel jealous."

Lucien returned the smile."To think that I shall be escorting the prettiest girl in the whole city about," he said. 
Suddenly, Lucien realized that Arianna's body was getting dangerously close to his.  He noticed that she had even wrapped her arms around his waist. Lucien didn't realize what was happening until Arianna's mouth was touching his. A cool sensation filled his body and he thought his heart would spring from his chest. Lucien didn't want it to end, it was the most magical feeling...

Then all too soon, it ended. Arianna pulled away,and pointed at the entrance of Lucien's room, a look of terror on her face. Lucien turned, and found himself face to face with someone he thought he would never see again. He gasped. It was Tom.
———— Anonymous

Italy is a part of Me (Poem)

I live a life of wonders
Italy it mostly be
To roam the streets and cites
to see everything there is to see.
just to have one quick peek at its nature
to feel the beauty and love in the gentle air
I think of precious Italia
which mostly is made up of me
to experience a day in Italia
is a day tI shall not forget
to experience a day in Italia
is a day of what life should be.
———— Diana Frigo

Between Two Worlds

Lucien of London
Luciano of Belleza
By day one way
By night another
Life of sickness
Life of pleasure
By day a nothing
Night filled with adventure
Lonely and ill
In bed he'd reside
To be with Arianna
In his world, he died
———— Jill

Vagare in parallelo mondo -- Wander in a parallel world

Viviana Miele was on holiday with her father, Rinaldo Miele in Milano, Italy. Mr. Miele, who was the travel agent of his company, World Wide Fashion (WWF), was working on a project with two of his assistants. Their goals in the project were how the WWF could get the most benefit in the Fashion trade so they could extend their fame to the world in the future. Mr. Miele was a very busy man. Most of his time was devoted to his work so there was little time left for his daughter and him to spend together on their holiday.
Viviana, who had always known as Vee to her friends, had no one to play with in Milano so her father organised tour trips around the city for her. As Vee became familiar with the city, she decided that she could go out and shop on her own.

It was a clear, sunny day. Vee remembered a small but cosy-looking Italian antique store that she had seen during one of her many tour trips around the city. She didn't particularly like to own or even buy old things but her curiosity was too strong to ignore.

She had no trouble looking for the store. It was as if the direction was imprinted in her head and an invisible thread guided her the right way.

Once she was inside the store, Vee wandered around it looking for something which she didn't even know herself. In the corner of her mind, a small voice continuously whispered, 'keep looking.' Suddenly with wide, startled eyes, she stared at a beautifully but mysteriously woven, silky material. Vee reached out and let her fingers run over, or rather through, the cool, smooth piece of silk. She unhooked the water-like silk from the stand without any hesitation and walked towards the counter.
'How was your day honey?' asked a serious, business-like voice.

'It was fantastic! I explored some of the venues, did some research on the city's history and did some shopping on the way back to the hotel,' replied an excited, fourteen-year-old girl.

Vee usually answered her father in short replies, such as 'It's OK,' 'Interesting,' or 'Fine,' sometimes even with 'The weather was lovely.' However, those replies did not come today. Mr. Miele was surprised not at Vee's answer but at the enthusiasm in her voice. However, when he turned to look at his daughter, his face revealed nothing but a mask of neutral expression.

'You know that I want you to be happy, don't you? I really want you to enjoy yourself? on this holiday,' said Mr. Miele with a searching look in his eyes.

'No worries dad,' the smile on Vee's face did not reach her eyes. 'So, what's for dinner?'

'The usual?' the father sighed inwardly, knowing the cause of this sudden change of subject.

With a shrug, Vee asked, 'Can you send the food to my room please?'

'But it's our day to dine together,