The Godfather: Fantasy

The godfather bent wearily over the cradle of his godson. Outside the cottage room, roses bloomed and bees hummed contentedly as they gathered the honey to feed their young. Inside the cottage room, the smell of roses turned sickly sour with illness. The baby lay unmoving in its crib, its face pale, upturned to the blurred shape of its godfather. The boy had fallen ill only three short days before his third birthday. His mother had been beside herself. She had summoned up the courage to call on the boys godfather by the blood that ran between their veins. She had sliced her wrist open and bled upon a silver mirror, and the next full moon, the boy's godfather had appeared.


Inspiration: Discussions of The Godfather
Story Potential: Medium-high.
Finished Length: ?
Notes: Not compelling, not rejecting, just nothing really solid here.