meeaz
19th June 2005, 05:33
I changed it from the original since I couldn’t delete it, so all feedback seems irrelevant now, but thank you for it anyways.
It had become their nightly ritual from the minute she arrived in his arms. He would watch her, carefully stroking her beautiful face and then she’d turn those hazel eyes on him, begging silently for his attention.
He supposed it started out as a way of comfort-her seeking reassurance and him, trying to hold on to something, anything. Life had been cruel to these two, for they had seen so much turmoil and angst. He would reach out to her to keep a semblance of sanity and she, well, she just needed someone there for her.
The first nights turned into week, weeks turned into months and months turned into four years. And still, he was performing this nightly ritual.
At exactly eight each night, she would crawl into bed and turn those eyes on him, knowing and manipulating. He would never be able to say no. Lying on the bed, beside her, he would begin his tale. A tale of love and passion and sorrow and heartbreak; it was the tale of her mother.
Four years ago, the last time his beautiful wife took a breath, Lex was handed a tiny and squalling girl, of whom he had no knowledge to take care. Chloe always told him parenting would be instinct to set aside his fears, but she wasn’t here now.
Nonetheless, he listened to her words and as instinct guided him, he began talking to his beautiful daughter. Soon, words of doubt turned into stories of her mother and her life with him.
And it was because of her mother that Lex was able to be the father Lionel never was, for he and his little Michelle had a nightly ritual that nothing could tear apart.
It had become their nightly ritual from the minute she arrived in his arms. He would watch her, carefully stroking her beautiful face and then she’d turn those hazel eyes on him, begging silently for his attention.
He supposed it started out as a way of comfort-her seeking reassurance and him, trying to hold on to something, anything. Life had been cruel to these two, for they had seen so much turmoil and angst. He would reach out to her to keep a semblance of sanity and she, well, she just needed someone there for her.
The first nights turned into week, weeks turned into months and months turned into four years. And still, he was performing this nightly ritual.
At exactly eight each night, she would crawl into bed and turn those eyes on him, knowing and manipulating. He would never be able to say no. Lying on the bed, beside her, he would begin his tale. A tale of love and passion and sorrow and heartbreak; it was the tale of her mother.
Four years ago, the last time his beautiful wife took a breath, Lex was handed a tiny and squalling girl, of whom he had no knowledge to take care. Chloe always told him parenting would be instinct to set aside his fears, but she wasn’t here now.
Nonetheless, he listened to her words and as instinct guided him, he began talking to his beautiful daughter. Soon, words of doubt turned into stories of her mother and her life with him.
And it was because of her mother that Lex was able to be the father Lionel never was, for he and his little Michelle had a nightly ritual that nothing could tear apart.