1I re-wrote the story because of two reasons. 1. It was too messy. And 2. It was way to unorganized & the plot was being jumbled. I feared that you dear readers wouldn't quite follow the twisting direction. So I took this long ( maybe too long) look at the story and said "Ok!....scraping!!" and here I am, with the same basic plot but a much better way of writing it. Enjoy!
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No, no, no life!
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!
* William Shakespeare, King Lear, Act V, scene iii.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Alright, see that guy pacing back a forth in the dusty attic? The one who looks like he is eventually going to pace a hole in the wood floor? The guy with the dark brown hair that is mumbling to himself like a mad man? You see him? Good. That guy is me. My name is Alistair and my current lovely location is the attic of the Cullen's house. Below me sit, stand, talk, and worry more blood-sucking vampires (some who prefer animals. Whatever, personal choice I guess.) who await the arrival of the Volturi and who are here to witness the growth the that hybrid thing.
Ok. She's not a thing. She's a little (?) girl. So I've heard she has a greater mentality than she looks by age. And she, who's name I have gathered to be Renesmee, grows very quickly. I personally think it's very strange. I don't even want to be here!
"Oh, you don't want to be here? Then leave!" I can hear you voice scoff to me. Though I really can't. I don't read minds, sorry. I do know a few people who can...getting ahead of myself! My apologies really. It seems after all these years I have all but disregarded my manners. What a shame.
I'm sure by now you've heard it rumored I don't like authority. Well, frankly, I don't. If you've lived through what I have, you wouldn't either! Really, if any of these young vampire's had lived through what the ancient one's have, well...life would not be the same.
But of course with today's society an immortal war is far from possible...dear, I've done it again! Getting ahead of myself with that statement.
I suppose by now I've intrigued your curiosity on the subject?
Well, I was born during the rise of the Roman Empire. A time of turmoil. But none of that seemed to touch Aro and I during our human youth and our vampire youth.
Oh! Yes, Aro. I suppose that is the cause of my turmoil now right here in this very attic. He was, is, someone who is, or was, close to me. I apologize if that confuses you. I know I'm referred to as a european nomad. I am a nomad. But I am originally from Italy. I am originally a lot of things, but that will come later. I won't spoil it all!
And don't worry, the story has more to do with everyone else than me, one could say. I just happened really to be there, though some days I would wish myself dead...some days I still do.
My family was poor in money. My father had died when I was very young leaving my mother and grandmother to take care of a small farm. We grew herds and sold them at market. Or he would. My uncle would come on days of market to take the crop we could sell, though the money that came back was far less than it should have been. When I was old enough, I sold it, but...it was never enough. The soil wasn't great, and we had already sold off all the animals we could afford to rid ourselves off. My mother always was on me to marry, and I would have...but there were wealthier men, older men. I was only twenty.
I was as alone then as I am now. Or I almost was. I would have been hadn't it been for Aro., of course.
The defiant son of a vineyard owner. He was comfortably suited in middle class. He would have inherited the farm, married wealthy probably, and went to upper class. But, of course, do you think it would have worked that way for him? No, he was the defiant son. He would have nothing to do with the vineyard, the lazy bastard. He wanted nothing to do with work. Most days, he would drag me off to town. We would sneak into temples just to read the scrolls imported. The ones out of public reach. It wouldn't take long before a guard or soldier would spy us and chase us out of town. We had plans then to see the world for all it was known. It was a nice unrealistic dream in my eyes, but I could always tell by his that it was meant to be reality. He was the dreamer.
His mother was of patrician blood. Why she married down, I never knew. She was a very beautiful woman, and her feature were apparent in her children. Her long black hair and pale skin. Aro has freckles across his cheek bones and the bridge of his nose though. From the sun. he absolutely hated them. His sister, Didyme, did not have freckles but clear pale skin with the slightest blush and the prettiest, brightest blue eyes like her brother and mother. She was always smiling, like her brother. There mother did not smile so much.
Little Didyme was a prize though. She was only eight at the time. It would only be six or seven more years till she was to be married and I hoped to be around at that time. And I was sure that Aro wouldn't mind me being a brother in law. Please! Don't think that it was wrong to think about that, besides, his father brought it up first! And I was surprised when Aro just shook his head and laughed. He was so defensive over her. Who could blame him though? She was just so innocent.
Aro and his father, on the other hand, were as diffrent as night and day. And they were both stubborn in every situation. Naturally, his father told him he would inherit the vineyard. He would marry. He would do this. He would do that. And, Aro did not, and still does not, like to be told what he will and will not do.
I often wonder if, well, if I had just been the child I was suppose to be and did what I was meant to...(Not letting Aro drag me into trouble) then I wouldn't be where I am. But then, I'd be dead. The irony.
-*-
We were twenty-two when it happened. We went to town. We had all intention at staying at the tavern, but our luck the little money we had was wasted. And were drunk.
We would have never noticed the tall black war-hoarse even pass us. No, but it had stopped. It had stopped with a looming black-cloaked man riding tall atop it.
And the worst part was, today, or that day, was like any any other day.
- - - -
He always came, mostly to escape his own home. He would come down complaining about how his father always wanted him to take over the small vineyard they owned. Aro's family lived a semi-comfortable life. We all did only live in a small crossing village, so it wasn't like we had a booming business like in Rome. Times were hard, too. The turn over from the take-over of the Roman Empire was difficult and our quiet area was most likely next. Mother's held tight to there son's as war was imminent. But, believe my word or not, Aro had no taste for the domination, or the politics. The two of us had made a habit of going into the center of town to the towns documentary building. We would crawl into the back and sneak to all the unread, dusty scrolls and tablets. I taught him how to read Latin, and we both expanded our literary knowledge. He even braved the back shelves of the main rooms, only to be eventually caught. One thing that never changed over the years was his thirst for knowledge.
On occasion I would stroll down to his part of town, which was farther away from the center than ours. His mother would usher me in. She was the sweetest women. Aro's mother was very firm in her hand, and cared for her children lovingly... I was envious of him, though. His mother of more regal upbringing. He never understood why she demeaned herself to vineyard life. They were a beautiful family though. I looked rather out of place with the rising fad of coal hair and peachy skin. Remember, reader, we did not have Turkish blood in us, so the Italian dark skin was not accustom in our time. Though my skin was tanned by the ever beating sun, my hair, no matter how I hated it, was a rich chocolate color. To me, it looked like mud. I always looked to going by to see his bright eyed sister too. The little laughing Didyme. "She's my only sanity in that house!" he told me once. I could see how that would be possible.
On many occasions he would come storming out before I even reached the door, grabbing me by the sash draped over my shoulder, he would storm away. Obviously steamed, again, at an argument with his father. His father always wanting him to succeed his job as a winery. The want-to-be philosopher had other ambitions.
"I envy you! You can do whatever you like!" he exclaimed, kicking a stone as he paced a little ahead of me.
"Envy? Do what I want? Aro, don't banter me. I haven't a spare stone to barter, nonetheless anything to go to Rome, or Athens or-," he stopped and looked back at me.
"Oh no!" I took a step back. He pushed a side of his black hair behind his right ear, as he always did. The other side was constantly falling in his left eye, but for some reason never fixed it. His wild blue eyes pierced into mine with a look I didn't like in the least. "Aro. . ."
He gave a ingenious look as he peered to the road ahead, "I'll make it someday," he looked back at me, "I'm dragging you along ,too,"
"I have no doubt. . ." I could only mutter back as I continued to keep pace beside him. The rest of the walk to nowhere we exchanged ideas, fanciful ideas, of what Rome and Venice and Athens and Crete would be like. To see the Colosseum and the gladiators if we ever could.
- - - - - -
As I've said, we were drunk. And we were completely alone on the road at this hour. I could barely see my two hands in from of me.
The horse, as stated, stopped. I barely noticed it, but when it whinnied, it startled me making me step, or stumble, back a few paces. But Aro walked closer to the looming figure.
"Your in the middle of the road," he motioned poorly to the ground and bended as if almost a bow. His eyes fixed on the man, if that's what he was, and that stupid smart-ass smile placed on his features.
The figure said nothing. The horse stood at a standstill. The only nose after that was the sound of the cloak he wore blowing in the chilling wind that on any other time would have chilled us both.
I was not cold, either out of the recent fear I had realized, or because of the drink. I can only clearly remember my eyes fixated on Aro and the man.
Slowly, my friend straightened his figure. The smile was contorting slowly into a sort of grimace or simper. His eyes becoming hard, the way blue eyes are able to.
- - - - -
We never went to Rome or Athens. We never got to see the canals of Venice with mortal eyes either. But it didn't matter
- - - -
The hood he wore fell ever so slightly back. We both looked up to his eyes.
Red.
Moments, minutes, hours, years. Time, time had stopped as in wonder and revere we stared up at the deep pools of red. But self preservation was bound to kick in sometime?
Mine was first. It started, ha ha started!, when Aro was about to actually step closer to the red eyed man atop the black hoarse. I grabbed his tunic and attempted to run away. Which more so ended as falling ever so ungracefully down a pasture. All the while, Aro's head kept jerking back looking for the cloaked man, who was nowhere to be found.
We stopped in a line of vineyard trees. Lost in the vines. Collapsing in heavy breaths no words were said as our minds took what we had saw and made it's own explanation.
Drawing blanks.