The town of Vinika was quiet. It wasn't silent, but it was quiet. Like a sleeping child, it lay, nestled, in the cold forests on the very edges of Alaska. If aomeone were to drive through the township, it would appear that everyone, and everything, was asleep.
This was not so.
"Jasper! Catch!" Alice Cullen's high-pitched voice chortled to the Hale at the other end of the field. The curly-haird blonde glanced up, holding out a hand to grab the blur of a ball now speeding toward him. It landed in his cupped hand with a soft, but successful, thump, prompting a small smile to spread across his pale face.
"Good shot, Alice," He called back, tossing the ball back to her. They continued to throw the ball back and forth between the while, standing like ghosts on the edges of the fields, the others watched.
They were a family of seven, and from afar, they seemed normal. Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme, along with their 'adopted' children Alice, Emmett, and Edward, with the added addition of Esme's 'nephew and niece', Jasper and Rosalie Hale. Sure, most of them were unnaturally beautiful, but their kids went to school and Carlisle was a well-respected octor, so no one could really judge too much.
Outside of he bright glare of sun, however, they were much different.
They were fast. And not humanky fast, like Usain Bolt or something. Unnaturally fast, like something out of a movie. When they ran, they were merely a blur. They were strong, too. Like the ball, whatever they threw became a blur. They could snap a bone in merely moments if they chose to. The biggest difference? They drank blood. Human blood.
In short, they were vampires.
They were a lot like the vampires you read about. Not the ones you saw in movies, or television shows. They were monsters and, more often than not, they would tear apart flesh to get to what they wanted. Sunlight, too, was a worry. The thing about Alaska was that, thankfully, the sun wasn't too bright. But when it was, their exposed skin burnt - just like human skin did, ironically. Bright red patches that emitted heavy heat and stung like a bitch, but never really left scars on them. That was why no one ever saw them on sunny days, or if they did, they were incredibly covered up. The seven just blamed it on their skin, and sunburn.
Being a vampire in the eighteenth to nineteenth century was difficult. Everyone ran around accusing everyone else, and trying to kill them. But being a vampire in the 21st century?
As easy as blinking.
