I've always had this crazy obsession with the dark side of life. Craving the things we humans aren't to know about. Sure I was only 16 when I realized that dark is sometimes better than the light but this didn't stop me. It just kept me from the real darkness that I needed to fill my cravings.

The only source at the age of 16 is the internet and books of fiction. Never was I able to visit these places that I had read about or had seen scouring the internet. They were only pictures and words. Not real passage ways and dark forests filled with the things unknown.

For the longest time I kept this fascination to myself for fear of scaring my temporary friends. I was waiting until I could get out of this perfect setting, filled with nothing town. The evergreen forests going as far as you could see with the ever present clouds threatening to unleash themselves above you.

It started with this town actually, my passion for the occult.

Living in The Grand Canyon state wasn't the best for my new found fondness. It was too sunny, and too barren for my taste. My mother started going through this phase as she does. She picked up books on the supernatural and the myths and legends of the world. But of course she never got around to reading all of them. She merely read one book.

They were on the kitchen table when I came home from school one afternoon. I picked one up about European myths and so I went to my room with it and read until 2 the next morning. It was filled with the basic Dracula and Carpathian mountains but what held most of the interest for me was this island like castle off the coast in France called Mont Saint Michel.

It was a beauty to behold. With its 12th to 15th century buildings. They way it looked to have rose out of the ocean its self. Reminding me of Atlantis in a way but without the Roman like architecture influence. It had been through much over the years the book told me. It was a short half a page but it captivated me almost like it was familiar in a sense. True I've never been but it effected me like it was my missing home.

It was a couple week later I had the choice to get away from the desert that constantly surrounded me. I had a father I hardly knew that lived in Forks Washington. The wettest place on earth. After living in Arizona you appriciate the rain a hell of a lot more.

The ride from the airport to my new home guaranteed that this was what I needed. The gray, dark blue, and green palate of color better suited my fantasy mind. It help me feel more comfortable.

Though the feeling never made me change my appearance or social ways. I wasn't one of those creature of the night people who loved the dark so much they dressed dark. It was only mental stimulation that could help me.

Unfortunately it didn't help for very long.

(4 years later)

I worried that I shouldn't do this. Taking a year off college for me wasn't wise. It wasn't something that would benefit me in anyway. It was just too damn hard to resist though.

Recently the dreams have been coming back. I've see it as a sign. Weather it was a good or bad sign still eluded me.

They always started the same. I get off the plane and go to my room. As I enter it smells faintly sweet and I can't stop breathing it in. Its tugging at my stomach like the picture did 4 years ago. There is a knocking on the door and I'm caught so off guard by the noise I drop my purse. The person on the other side is still knocking as I bend over to make sure my cell phone didn't break and to gather my things a bit. I tell this person to hold on it will be a sec but then the lights flicker. It goes dark and I can't see. I hear the window open and it cracking against the outside as the wind blows it almost off its hinges. The door opens and I can't scream. I feel my self choking in fear, paralyzed to the floor crouched over forgetting about my phone when the foot steps get closer. I try my hardest to speak but the only thing coming out it the salty tears from my eyes. The wind blows too strong for indoors and knocks me over I then regain some movement and look up and this intruder. But not before I notice the slight sweet smell is much stronger now and I can feel it pulling me into a false sense of security that I gladly let overcome me. I finally reach two eyes above me. They reflect the outside light as if they are cat eyes. I see nothing else but those eyes and they tug at me too but not in the good sense. I need to throw up now but I can't look away.

"Isabella Swan . . . "

I wake up in the same place every time. Its one of those odd occurrences that happen in dreams. When you emerge from your sub-conscious to your conscious you forget bits and parts. I always forget the gender of this person saying my voice.

Late at night I think about the meaning of this dream. I believe in dreams and the powers it has to warn or prepare you for the future. It lets you learn about yourself more than when your conscious. There is so much more in the mind then you can remember at one time. Dreams help you see the things your conscience can't.

From a visual point it is a night mare. It scares me and terrifies me to be in the dark and so venerable just like any other human being. But emotion wise it is a dream. It doesn't make me feel as scared as the visual darkness. it's the presence of this person in the room that makes me feel okay, safe, loved? I've never felt it genuinely but it feels as though an intense version of my mothers love. And that to me is a dream. So if its good or bad is still a mystery.

Im looking for a beta for this story.

I really dont want to publish anymore for this one until I get one but this is my favorite.

Im sure you at least know somebody who would if not yourself ;)

And just a suggestion. Read The Historian. Great book if you like history like me!