Here is my new story. Eventual Femslash (Alice/Bella) Don't like? Don't read. Its as simple as that
Please review! It encourages me (and means I can feed on your delicious minds and create evil creatures to do my bidding :D) ... - dont ask
Disclaimer: I own a carrot, a computer, my clothes, some books, and numerous other small necessities. Sadly that does not include some of my favorite stories. :( . Doesn't mean I can't use my twisted imagination and warp the world to my liking in any fanfiction I write :D
Ever since I can remember I have had a ring on my left hand, on the third finger. It is gold and seems to shift in colour, lighter and darker, like a liquid, flowing perfectly from its topaz to a black. In the middle it had a sapphire, sparkling and swirling with blues of every shade. No matter how much I tried to remove it, it stayed stuck and still, unseen by my mother and Phil. So I ignored it and lived on, forgetting about the ring upon my hand, which was where a ring for marriage should rest.
Only now does it come to mind, as I twiddle my fingers impatiently, attempting to move the ring once again in boredom as I sat in my seat, the plane soaring through the sky. It felt wrong, being in this plane, in this seat. I don't know why, maybe I was afraid of Heights, although I doubted that theory, as I was not quaking in my seat, surrounded by blue skies behind the metal walls of the plane. I felt like I should be feeling the wind on my face as we flew, not stuck in here with still air and people breathing noisily. I dismissed this though, not understanding and because of it not bothering.
I was on the plane out to live with my father, Charlie Swan, police chief of the small (really small) gloomy town of Forks (not the utensils, they'd probably have more light than there), where the sun is blocked all year, rarely emerging from the clouds blanketing the sky, and where it almost always rains. I was going to miss the sun, as I would miss my Mum and Phil and my home, but it would be worth it. My mum would be happy with her husband, my step father, who would be doing stuff for the baseball team.
The plane began to descend and I thought of a bird swooping down through the air, its feathers ruffling in the wind. I sighed, wondering what it would be like to fly free through the sky, my mind still pondering the thought as I left the plane and grabbed my luggage. I waited for Charlie to arrive, and when his car pulled up I shoved my suitcase into the back and sat in the front. He began the drive home, silence filling the car, the only sound was our breathing and the sounds of the cars rumbling engine and rolling wheels. The time ticked away and the rain beat down on the windshield, a rhythmic pitter patter reminding me strangely of the sounds of birds whooshing wing beats. Soothing sounds to my soul. As the car drive came to an end I was thankful to emerge from the car, away from the stifling claustrophobic cage.
Once I was in my room Charlie left, not hovering unsurely like some parents do. And for that I was thankful. A glance around my room saw the light blue walls and peaked ceiling. Yellowed lace curtains framed the window which gave me a view outside past a tree. I was sad that it blocked my view of the outside sky, even if the sky was grey and dulled by rain clouds. It also held a bed, a desk which a secondhand computer sat upon and an old pine dresser. Once I packed my clothes into that and then took my bag of necessities into the bathroom. Upon returning I opened a small folder and removed a pile of papers. A secret smile. I dashed downstairs, thankful that I didn't trip over, and asked my father if he had any pins. After a queer look was sent my way from him he grunted towards the cupboard near the phone. I went over and found a jar of them and the smile grew wider.
A look of concentration was on my face as I stuck the pictures upon the wall, forming a collage of images full of colour and beauty. Each of them unique. Some were taken by a camera, some drawn by my hand. All of them inspire a sense of freedom in me as I view the wall. It would be dedicated to the art. Pictures of animals, of landscapes, of creatures running free. All of these instilled a peace in me. Once the last was pinned up I collapsed onto my blue covered bed and stared up at the blank ceiling. A sense of claustrophobia began to rise as I realized that I might not be able to see the clear night sky or the twinkling stars again. A quashed it as I curled up on my side, eyes glancing at my wall of freedom. I resolved to paint the ceiling as soon as possible. To have it resemble the night sky, the sky I often used to gaze at in wonder at its distant inky expanse, so far it was so many places to be. It would be a reminder, much like my drawings.
And as I go to sleep, lying there gazing at the wall, my fingers once again returning to the ring on my hand I feel a tingling, and smile as it warms my finger. Beneath the smile, below my sleep hazed eyes, beneath buried memories and lost thoughts a part of me smiles the same secret smile and the rhythmic beats of this part of me seem to become stronger, in time to my heart. And as I sleep the strange thoughts are once again buried deeper, lost, boding their time before they shall truly rise. But the smile, knowing and content, remains, unseen.