Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, blah blah blah, but I'm pretty sure you already knew that.

Hello peoples. As promised, this is the new and improved "What Lays Ahead". Since the story is half in 1918 if I get facts about the time, geography, language, or technology I am sorry and I hope you will inform me so I can change it to be as correct as possible. I apologize in advance for the multiple the other story. I am extremely sorry about that. Please enjoy and review.

This is going to start in Edward's point of view in 1918. He is in Chicago, his father is ill but his mother and he had not yet been affected by the influenza.

E POV – Chicago, IL 1918

I trotted down the street, soaked from the light drizzle that had plagued the city for the past week. The paper grocery bag in my arms was seconds away from ripping into a soggy lump of nothing. Thankfully, I was only a few steps away from the large house my parents owned and didn't need the bag to last much longer anyway.

I climbed front three steps leading up to the massive, three-story Victorian style house. I unlocked the door with my free hand and walked in quickly, before any of the moisture from outside could penetrate the perfect interior of my mother's home.

"Hello," I called loudly. "Mother, are you home?"

I heard silence in response, so I assumed that my mother was still at the hospital. She rarely ever left my father's side these days.

I went into the kitchen and put away the food. Bread, milk, eggs, I chanted each food in my head as I brought them out of the bag to keep my thoughts away from the terrifying, but realistic possibility that the reason my mother was spending so much time in the hospital is because we would not have any time left with father outside of it.

I cursed as I realized that I had forgotten apples. Oh well, I thought, it's not as though we really needed them anyway. Most of them end up going to waste.

Once all of the things were put away I went through the unused dining room into the living room. All of the rooms seemed lifeless and empty without my father here. He had such spirit and energy that he always brought light and joy around with him, the man never went anywhere without a smile on his face and a spark in his eye.

I crossed the room silently, walking over to the piano that dominated small room. I sat down on the rough wooden seat, smooth from being used so often over the past years. The piano itself was in fairly good conditions, but it was worn and old in a way that gave it character – as opposed to those new, and shiny polished pianos which I thought always looked too clinical and impersonal to do anyone any good.

I pushed down on a note and heard the clear note dance across the room, echoing softly in my head long after the note itself left the air.

I closed my eyes and put my hands on the keys once again. I always did that before I began to actually play.

When my father was teaching me to play he did that too. He would say it gives a person time to appreciate the sounds for what it is. That each note is a song all on its own and that far too many people don't appreciate what one simple note can do.

I started gently pressing down on the keys and lost myself in the music that played me as much as I played it.

I was so lost that I didn't notice the creak of the front door, or the padding of the footsteps, or the soft sobbing that accompanied them both.

I only realized that I wasn't alone when a hand was placed on my shoulder and I jumped in my seat.

"That was beautiful, Edward," said my mother, her voice cracking on my name.

"Thank you, mother," I turned in my seat to look at her. "Mother, what's wrong?" I asked when I saw the tearstains that covered her face.

"Oh, Edward. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. There was nothing – He was so – They tried everything –"

"Mother? Mother, what is it? You're scaring me, please." I stood and quickly pulled my sobbing mother into a hug. I could barely understand anything she was saying, but a few words stood out.

"Your father, Oh God, they couldn't do anything. He's gone."

When I heard that I froze. I felt my arms drop to my sides and took a step back.

"What?" I think I said that, it didn't sounds like me, but my mouth moved. It was too numb, too emotionless to be my voice.

"I'm so sorry Edward. There was nothing anyone could do. I'm sorry, so, so sorry." My mother wept, and I longed to comfort her, but I could not. I couldn't move. Dead. He's dead. My father is dead.

I didn't even notice that I was moving away. I walked out the front door, my head in a fog. I couldn't process what I had just been told. Only a week ago he had been sitting at the lunch table commenting on how ridiculous the Larnmer's were, with all of their parties and dinners and… no. There had to be some kind of mistake. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. No.

I was running down the street. I didn't know where I was going; I just had to get away. Away from everything, people, this town, my mother, my father's ghost. I had to get away.

Soon I was in the forest. The damp leaves were slapping my face and wetting my clothes, they had dried while I had been playing the piano. I had been playing the piano while my father died. I wasn't even there. I was a horrible son.

I ran and ran and ran. I had no knowledge of where I was going, nor that it was dark. I ran until my muscles aches and my lungs burned.

I ran until I collapsed. I collapsed and I didn't get up. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't walk, I couldn't move. I don't know exactly when I lost consciousness, but I remember regaining it once or twice and observing that I was in some kind of meadow and the moon was bright and whole above me.

After that everything went black again.

8 8 8

When I awoke the sun was rising, not that you could see it through the clouds that once again lingered overhead.

My muscles screamed in protest when I moved to stand. My shirt and pants were soaked through from a combination of the rain from yesterday and the morning dew.

I didn't know how long I had been asleep, but I'm sure my mother was worried sick. And after what just happened… No. No, no, no, no, no. I would not allow myself to think of such things. I needed to get home first. I needed to get out of here.

Thinking of which… I looked around the meadow. I did not know which direction I had come from, nor did I know which direction I had to go to get home.

Home. Ha. What home is it without my father there to bring the place life? What am I going home to? A distraught mother and a city of people who couldn't care less whether my father lived or died.

I shook my head as if to remove the thoughts from my overly-active mind.

I looked at the tree in front of me. Alright, I'll go in that direction, I thought, it's much better than just sitting around here anyway. I need to at least try to get back home to my mother.

I walked, paying careful attention to the woods around me, trying my best to head in a straight line so I would be able to make it out of the forest. The way I over analyzed every branch and root I passed allowed me to travel the woods without thoughts of my father haunting me.

After walking a few hours I had still gotten nowhere and it was beginning to rain again. I was tired, hungry, aching, miserable, and grieving.

This could not possibly get any worse. I thought. But, of course, whenever anyone dares think that and mean it, the universe has to prove them wrong.

I took ten more steps forward and was face to forest with the exact same meadow that I had started in. The only difference was, this time. There was someone else in it.

There was a man crouching down. He looked like he would be tall, but I wasn't too sure because of the angle He had dark hair and was wearing ripped and muddy clothing. He looked strong, and gave off an air of danger. I was about to turn around to walk away when the man suddenly spun to face me.

There was one thing that caught my eye right away. It was not the perfectness of his features, it was not the dark red stains on his clothes, it was not his extremely pale skin, nor was it the fact that he appeared to be growling at me. The one thing that caught my attention, that made me stand still absolutely petrified and paralyzed from fear, were his eyes. They were blood red.

And while he held me captivated in his gaze, I did not notice the head of a child slowly rolling away from his bloody hands in my direction.

YAY! I finished chapter one! Okay, so do you like it better? I know that this is definitely more angst-filled than the last one, but I promise that the whole story will not be this way. The next chapter is going to be in the 21st century.

I am going to make a promise right here and I expect all of you readers hold me to it. I am going to promise to update at least once a week if not more. Once every Sunday there will be an update. If I do not succeed in accomplishing this I expect all of you to chew me up, curse at me, and spit me out so I can go write the chapter.

Give me feedback on how you like it! Review! Please! Thank You!

D.