It was the beginning of summer on the Island of Capri and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen in the warm night sky. There was a gentle breeze that swept though a small hidden garden and into the open window of a grand home nestled on the coast off the Gulf of Naples. The breeze brought with the sweet scent of gardenia that danced though the spacious bathroom. Candlelight flickered on the dusky rose colored walls and glimmered off the golden trim that adorned the walls. Droplets of water hung suspended in the air, shimmering like diamonds in the dim light. An enchanting voice rose and fell with the lyrics that played from an ancient record player and drifted though the gossamer curtains that fluttered softly in the breeze.
It had been years since the house had been occupied by anyone besides the small sparrow that had made its home in the attic. The locals, while they were happy to see that the grounds were being tended to again, were rather suspicious of the new resident. It had been almost a year and they had yet seen the young occupant in person except for rare glimpses of her raven black hair as she vanished back into the house or of the piercing ocean blue eyes as the chauffer rolled up the heavily tinted windows of a sleek Maserati Ghibli rolled up, swiftly and effectively cutting the rest of the world off from her. Gardeners and housekeepers drove through the tall black gates, which were they only entrance or exit to the property, every morning at precisely 7AM and left through the same gates an hour before sunset but not a word left their lips about their employer.
Months passed by slowly and the rumors that had spread around town had died down, their interest with the mysterious newcomer fading with the approach of summer. That was until, in the late weeks of May, the gates were left open for the first time since her arrival and music could be heard from the home. The locals were bewildered by this sudden change and a spark of curiosity once again flared up in their midst. No one dared to enter the gates for fear of what lay beyond them until a young man, overcome with curiosity, volunteered to venture into the estate.
It had been years since the house had been occupied by anyone besides the small sparrow that had made its home in the attic. The locals, while they were happy to see that the grounds were being tended to again, were rather suspicious of the new resident. It had been almost a year and they had yet seen the young occupant in person except for rare glimpses of her raven black hair as she vanished back into the house or of the piercing ocean blue eyes as the chauffer rolled up the heavily tinted windows of a sleek Maserati Ghibli rolled up, swiftly and effectively cutting the rest of the world off from her. Gardeners and housekeepers drove through the tall black gates, which were they only entrance or exit to the property, every morning at precisely 7AM and left through the same gates an hour before sunset but not a word left their lips about their employer.
Months passed by slowly and the rumors that had spread around town had died down, their interest with the mysterious newcomer fading with the approach of summer. That was until, in the late weeks of May, the gates were left open for the first time since her arrival and music could be heard from the home. The locals were bewildered by this sudden change and a spark of curiosity once again flared up in their midst. No one dared to enter the gates for fear of what lay beyond them until a young man, overcome with curiosity, volunteered to venture into the estate.
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