---As you may know, i DO NOT own any of the characters used. They belong to Stephenie Meyer.---

OK, bare with me here.

This is my first story in a while!

I used to write fan fiction a long time ago... I just started to get back into writing them again.

They will get better!!! i PROMISE! :) ...i hope...ha... that is up to you.

I have a lot of other ideas, better ones i think, but i wanted to start out short and easy.

Just give it a shot!

&Enjoy.

asylumsinger

-Obviously this is a work in progress-

-if you don't mind, i would really appreciate some reviews, TELL ME WHATCHA' THINK! it will help me make the decision if i should keep going with this story or not-

:)ty

It stuck with me through out the day. The dream I had wasn't very different from any other of my typical dreams; extremely vivid. It was just one of those dreams that felt like it had a purpose. I couldn't just wake up and go on with my day. Why would I have a completely random dream about him? What the hell did it mean? and why did I keep thinking about it?

I remember it was dark in the strange, deserted, city I roamed through. The only lights to, somewhat, guide my way was that of the dimly lit building and street lights. As I wondered along, dark shadows of people started to crowd around me. They were yelling at me, they were so angry, but I couldn't make out the words. I spun around helplessly, looking for a way out. Confused, I ran through the angry mob.

………they chased after me.

After sprinting, I stopped and backed up to a light post to see them closing in again. Giving up, I slowly slid down to the ground. Frightened, I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I ducked my head between and wanted so badly to disappear.

A minute passed and the loud voices that were once surrounding me had abruptly went silent. I waited.

Like I light breeze, I heard his voice and felt his presence.

"They're gone. You're safe now."

I lifted my head slightly, just enough for my tear soaked eyes, to peak over my folded arms. I stared.

I don't know which struck me the most, the feeling of knowing the angry hoard of strangers had vanished and I indeed was safe, or the fact that, the hand of my protector, palm-up reaching down to me, waiting for my hand to fit securely into his. Belonged to someone I would never see the same way again.