I
wrote this awhile ago when I was bored. I hope you like it. Please
review and tell me if you think I should continue. Enjoy!
For years, I had been searching for some trace of my old human friend, Edward Masen. I always knew that the search would probably end at a cemetery somewhere, most likely in or near Chicago, but I could never find a tombstone. In fact, I couldn't find any concrete evidence of his death. The only thing was a death certificate signed by Dr. Carlisle Cullen, saying that Edward Masen died of influenza in Chicago in September of 1918. After this discovery, I looked for his grave with a fervor. I looked at every cemetery in Chicago over the course of three years. Eventually, I found the graves of his father and his mother, Edward Sr. and Elizabeth, but there was still no trace of my Edward. I checked every other source that I could think of, even old newspapers, but I never found another word about Edward Masen. Eventually, I gave up, deciding that his body had probably been stolen by this Dr. Cullen for research purposes. I returned to the life of a nomad, wandering aimlessly for twenty years.
Then, I found a sign of Edward. I was in Washington because the lack of sunlight allowed me to go outside. It was raining, and I was in a payphone booth, just flipping through the phonebook. Out of habit, I looked up Masen and was, once again, disappointed to find nothing. I took a chance and looked for Cullen, something I'd never done before. But the rain was reminding me of Edward and the time he took me to a picture show while it was pouring. That was the time he kissed me, just once, quickly, but a kiss all the same. It was the highlight of my human life.
Surprisingly, I found an entry for a Cullen right at the top of the page. I shrieked as I saw the first name. Carlisle. Cullen, Carlisle and then a phone number and an address. But how could that be possible? It couldn't be the same Carlisle Cullen, couldn't be the doctor who was present for Edward's death in 1918. He'd have to be 105 years old, probably even more than that. No, this had to be a strange coincidence. Unless Carlisle was a… no. Not possible. He couldn't have possibly been a vampire. How would he be able to stand blood? How would he be able to live in Washington, not traveling constantly? This was not the Carlisle that was associated with Edward.
Regardless, I picked up the payphone and dropped a few coins into it. I had to at least try. That had been my philosophy ever since I became a vampire, when I first realized how entirely possible the impossible was…never label anything as impossible without first trying. And so I dialed the number for Carlisle Cullen.
Someone picked up after two rings. It was a woman with a kind voice. "Hello, this is Esme Cullen," she said. I guessed that she was Carlisle Cullen's wife. After all, not a lot of kids answered the phone that way.
I smiled, even if Esme Cullen couldn't see me. "Hi, this is Mona Casper. Do you by any chance know a boy by the name of Edward Masen?" I asked. All I needed was a statement. Then I could use my power to discover whether or not whatever she said was a lie.
Esme stuttered. "Masen? Edward Masen? But I… who is this again? What did you say your name was? I mean no. No, I don't know any Edward Masen." she said hurriedly, hanging up as soon as she gave me the answer.
I didn't even need to use my power to know that she was lying. I copied down the address of the Cullens and took off running towards Forks, Washington, with the goal of figuring out what had happened to my Edward.