Disclaimer 1: I do not own Twilight. This story was written for entertainment purposes only. I do not make any money out of this story.

Disclaimer 2: This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people and events are to be considered coincidental. Yeah...

"God hates Forks, Washington, land of the vile homosexual! The pansies and the queers of Forks are drowning. The water of God's wrath is sending hundreds of those filthy homo beasts straight to hell!"

Do these words sound familiar? You probably wouldn't need to second-guess that these are the words of Pastor Fred Felps, of the Lansboro Baptist Church. To America and to everyone else, he is notorious for this kind of language and for his doctrine of malice. The whole world hates him, curses him, wishes death upon him. For them, he brings no good upon this world, and, perhaps, they are right to think so.

Not everyone knows that he wasn't always like that. I knew Fred Felps, and the Fred Felps I knew was a kind, gentle and beautiful man. But then, somewhere along the way, he transformed into this ugly raving lunatic, and I know not how. I need answers; I need to know why...

My name is Edward Cullen, and this is our story.

My Beloved, Pastor Fred
by: Jeuxdevie

It has always been rainy in the town of Forks, where I now live, for as long as I could remember. However, during the past week, the downpour had been exceptionally heavy. According to news reports, a month's worth of precipitation had fallen within 24 hours. In some areas, the floods reached twelve feet in height, drowning houses, livestock, people. So far, there are more than a hundred known dead, and even more unaccounted for. Scientists blame it on climate change. Doomsayers preach that the world is about to end, and call for the repentance of sinners.

To me, it's just another day on Earth. When you exist with your mind intact for over a hundred years, you tend to observe that rainy days simply come and go, and catastrophes like this that seem to have never happened in history actually occur on a regular basis. Floods and deaths are just another consequence of existing on this planet. But humans are forgetful, and who can blame them? Most of them die within eighty years, with their minds slowly degrading in their journey to never-ending non-existence. Few bother to record their experiences, and, from among those who do, their notes become destroyed, forgotten, in floods such as this. Humans are fragile. Humans, as a species, never learn.

But I am not a human. I am a vampire.

My family and I remained safe during the flood. Alice, my sister, able to see the future, warned us of the catastrophe before the clouds became gray, while my adoptive father, Carlisle Cullen, promptly negotiated the purchase of a magnificent villa on a stable cliff. It wasn't difficult at all. Through the years, we had amassed billions of dollars in wealth, so paying for our new home was not a problem. Furthermore, we were all vampires, unusually attractive and charming, and the negotiations were won within a day.

Of course, being vampires, we wouldn't have been destroyed in a mere flood; but we had no desire to be drenched either.

While the rains continue to pour outside, foretelling the demise of possibly dozens more humans, my adoptive siblings and I take advantage of the suspension of classes to immerse ourselves in more interesting pursuits. My brother Emmett and his wife Rosalie spend the entire day in their room, presumably writing poetry, while Alice and her husband Jasper relax in the living room with their new computers. Meanwhile, I stretch out on the sofa and read a book.

Alice, vivacious that she is, is quite prone to giggling, so I am not surprised to hear her snickering as she watches a video on YouTube. "Hey, Jas," I hear her say to her husband, "take a look at this." I peek to see her hand him a pair of earphones. Then, surprisingly, Jasper, for all his seriousness, laughs. That arouses my curiosity, and I look in their direction. As though on cue, Alice calls to me.

"Eddie, come, check this out! What a loon!"

I go to them and take the earphones from Jasper. Alice had dragged the slider to the beginning of the video. As soon as I put on the earphones, she presses play.

A loud and clear voice booms: "Thank God for the Forks, Washington flood! Thank God for His righteous judgment upon this evil land of homos and homo-enablers! America, land of the homosexual damned! Just like in the days of Noah, the God Almighty, in His infinite justice, has once again poured down His waters upon the land, by the millions of gallons, to cleanse and purge the Earth of its wretched sinners and queers!"

I feel sick in the stomach. With my peripheral vision, I could see Alice and Jasper embracing each other and laughing their hearts out. I did not laugh with them. I could not even smile.

The person in the video is an old preacher, about eighty years old, gaunt and wrinkled, and wearing a white cowboy hat. He is delivering an angry sermon on YouTube, and he continues with this: "For many years, Lansboro Baptist Church has warned that your sins will be avenged by God unless you repent and turn away from your homosexual ways, but you did not heed our words. You laughed at us, mocked us, called us names, and even vandalized our church! Well, who's laughing now, you nincompoops?

"One hundred and seventy-five dead, as of the last count; one hundred and seventy-five sinners now burning in hell! We at Lansboro Baptist Church rejoice, not grieve, in the vengeance of God, and we pray that the dear Lord drown many more of you and send you to hell, where you all belong! Amen."

Alice and Jasper are now crying in laughter.

"Isn't he just the craziest?" she giggles.

I remove the earphones. "I have to go," I say, and run away as fast as I can.

Those fiery eyes. That chiseled jaw. And, of course, the name. I recognize the name. Fred Felps. He has grown older since I last saw him, but, still, it was unmistakably him. If not for his ugly words, I would've also thought he was beautiful, just like before. Oh, but he was still beautiful!

I know what I have to do. I know where I have to go.

-x-x-x-

1918. I was then seventeen years old, and dying of Spanish influenza. The epidemic would later on kill as many as 50 million people from around the world. I would have been one of the dead, if it hadn't been for Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He saved me, by turning me into a vampire.

Since then, I no longer aged. Death lost its grip upon me, and I have been, physically, seventeen for almost a hundred years. My mind and body have not only remained fresh and strong, but their capabilities have also been enhanced by vampirism. I am far faster, stronger, more dexterous than any human being who has ever lived. I have also acquired the power to read minds, an ability unique even among vampires.

Of course, there were also disadvantages to being a vampire. In order to survive, a vampire has to drink blood. A vampire lusts for blood. Many of my fellow vampires choose to take the easy way out, and partake of the blood of innocent humans. Thankfully, Carlisle has taught us to drink the blood of animals. It is not, I presume, as delicious as the blood of humans, but it allows us to survive just the same.

And then, there are other things...

-x-x-x-

Fast forward twenty years: 1938. 5 PM. I happened upon a group of noisy schoolchildren in an alley in Alamo, Texas. I was on a journey then, and, in the years I had by far existed, I was used to finding the oddest groups of the oddest people. I was also used to leaving them alone to mind their own business, whatever it may be. There was nothing intrinsically unusual about a group of noisy schoolchildren, of course, even if it was a quartet of bullies ganging up on a smaller boy; yet this particular group, or, rather, this particular boy, aroused my interest. I sniffed the air, quietly hid behind a pile of boxes nearby, and watched.

The boy was curled up on the ground, desperately covering his head and crying out for his mother. The bullies laughed and taunted him and called him names, as they kicked and stomped on him repeatedly. Their actions inflicted wounds upon his skin. His blood smelled intoxicating.

One of the bullies snatched the little boy's backpack and spilled its contents. "What's this?" he said, picking up a book. "The art of flower arranging? What are you, a pansy? Hey, look, guys! Freddie girl here likes to read the art of flower arranging! Isn't he a homo?" The other boys laughed.

They gurgled their saliva and spat on him. I strained to find out what he was thinking at the moment, but, for some reason, I couldn't read his mind! The discovery alarmed me. Up to that point, I thought could read anyone's mind!

"What do you think, guys? What should we do with this pansy-wansy?"

The leader of the gang, the largest of the group, answered. "I think we should give Freddie here a favor and make him into a girl, just as he wants!" He took a knife out of his pockets, while the other boys restrained Freddie and began to undress him. Without having to read the bullies' minds, I realized in horror what they were going to do to him. Freddie must have realized it too, for he thrashed and panicked even more.

"Oh my God!" he cried out. "Oh God! Help me, please! Help me! God! Help!"

Hesitating no longer, I sprang from my hiding place and grabbed the bullies, two in each hand. Before they even figured out what was happening, I threw them as far away as I could, until I could no longer hear their disgusting thoughts. Then, I bent over the little boy, who was still shivering on the ground. I touched his neck for but a moment, just to feel his pulse; any second longer and I would have been tempted to bite it, and to drink his blood.

When I was sure he was going to survive, I quickly turned to leave. Then, I heard a shuffle behind me, and a squeaky "Wait." I stopped where I was, keeping my back at him.

"I haven't thanked you yet for saving me," he said, "so, thank you."

"You're welcome," I replied. "It's the least I could do."

"Are you an angel?"

I thought for a while. "Perhaps, if that is what you want to believe."

"Then you are an angel!" he cried out, with a twinkle in his voice. "Thank you so much, sir! And thank God for sending you!"

Before he could make another step toward me, I ran as fast as I could, out of his sight, to the uppermost floor of a nearby building. He must have thought I had flown to heaven, for he knelt to the ground in prayer, gazing up with tearful eyes at the sky. For some reason, I smiled.

And that was how I met Fred Felps.

(to be continued)