Chapter One

Forks

I have always believed that what we see isn't everything that there is there, and that there is some level of truth behind the many myths I've heard, ghosts being the main myth. But that's because I can see them. I can communicate with them.

For as long as I can remember, I've always been able to see those who have...well, passed on to the other side. My mother being the first. She died just after I was born. So, I was brought up by my dad all my life.

So when it came to leaving home for the first time, I was torn. Part of me wanted to stay here. In the Lake District with my dad, but I knew I had to start my life now, and that was in Forks, Washington, where I had been offered a new job as a part time camp and hike instructor while continuing my writing. I figured that if England didn't appreciate my stories, maybe America would.

The plane journey from Heathrow to Washington was long and exhausting, and the drive to Forks was going to make the journey start to feel less worthwhile. Well, that's what I thought until I began noticing the scenery. Beautiful rich forests and mountains. It reminded me a lot of home.

As I drove through the town of Forks, I fell instantly in love with it. A lovely, quaint old town, with a clear sense of character. When I arrived at the house, I was breath taken. The house was built eighty odd years ago, although its interior had been modernised to today's standards. It had only two bedrooms, the master bedroom being mine and the guest room doubling as an office.

Unpacking was a pain. I decided to leave it for today after getting bedroom essentials sorted, and headed back into the centre of Forks, I had noticed a diner on my way navigating myself to the house. A quick dinner was what I needed, as I hadn't unpacked kitchen stuff, there was no way I was going to be able to cook anything tonight.

The diner looked very – American. Full of men whom I assumed were trucker men. I just managed to find an empty table, in the corner, a table away from the entrance, at the table sat the sheriff. He noticed me gazing and smiled. I smiled nervously back. I wasn't sure how the social etiquette was here, so I was nervous as how to respond. Back at home I was used to neighbours dropping in at any given time for a cup of tea, and vice versa. To my surprise, the sheriff got up and came over to my table.

"You're new here, aren't you?" He asked.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked sheepishly, feeling my cheeks flush.

"No, it's a small town. Everyone knows everyone. I think I would have noticed you before. But aside from that, you ain't got an American accent." The sheriff smiled. "So, what's your name? Where are you from?"

"My name is Zoe. I'm from a small middle of no-where in the Lake District. I used to live in a hamlet town, in a cottage called Monk House Hill."

"Lake District?" The sheriff frowned slightly as he thought. "That's in England, right?"

"Yeah. Just. Borderline with Scotland." I smiled. Before the sheriff could respond, the waitress came over with his food.

"Sorry, guess we'll have to continue our introductions another time." The sheriff apologized and made for his table.

"Wait." I called after him. "I see you're sitting alone. Why don't you come sit with me? It'd be nice to make some acquaintances." The sheriff thought for a moment and nodded.

"Okay, thanks that would be lovely." He replied, and picked up his dish of steak and chips and sat down.

"What can I get you hun?" The waitress asked.

"Caesar salad, please." I replied and the waitress disappeared again. "So, sheriff, what's your name?"

"Chief Swann. Or Charlie." Charlie replied.

"Have you got any family?" I asked, curious.

"Yeah, I have a daughter. Bella. She's all grown up now, a lovely young woman like yourself. She's married, to Edward Cullen, and has a daughter, Renesme. She's beautiful."

"Wow, married and a mother. You don't look old enough to be a grandpa." I complimented.

"I agree." Charlie chuckled. "Well, you've guessed somehow what I do, what do you do?"

"I'm a writer. Although I teach camping and hiking part-time." I explained.

"What do you write?" Charlie asked, interested.

"Novels mostly. Sci-fi and fantasy."

"Anything I'd know?"

"Unlikely, I haven't been published yet." I laughed.

I got home later then I had intended. Charlie and I had chatted longer than expected, and I left with an invitation to go with him to have dinner in La Push with his friends Billy and Sue on Tuesday evening. Sue was cooking apparently, and his insisted she wouldn't mind. So I agreed, joking would I be arrested if I didn't. Lame joke, I know, but I couldn't think of what else to say.

It took me three days to unpack everything. I slumped down on my bed, exhausted and relieved. I can't believe I managed to find a place for everything. I had got everything done in time for tomorrow. When work started. I was scheduled to be at Forks High School to teach the kids about camping and survival. So I decided to get an early night, once I had everything organised for what I needed tomorrow, which wasn't much. Just paperwork and note cards for my lecture.

I fell asleep instantly as soon as my head had hit the pillow, and slept without a bother compared to the first two nights, where I'd been having strange nightmares about dark, mysterious figures in the forests, and wolves. I was just grateful that it appeared no-one dead had stuck around this house, being in a new neighbourhood with a strange presence in the house was not something I needed just yet.

Forks High School was easy to locate. The parking lot was full of rusty or old second hand looking cars. Student's cars. I wasn't used to seeing so many that I could assume were owned by students. It wasn't an often occurrence back in England. First off, because you couldn't drive until you were seventeen, and even then, you needed a good part-time job or rich parents to pay for the lessons, tests to qualify for a licence, and then the car and insurance itself.

My car blended right in with the student cars. Second hand, but not as old, and definitely not rusty. I could just afford it.

I walked across the lot, students were still parking up, and those that were hanging around started at me. An unfamiliar face. They studied me, trying to figure out who I was. I was young, yes, but too old to be a student at the school. I ignored the stares, I was used to it anyway, besides, they'd soon find out who I was. I went straight to reception and the lady behind the desk informed me that one of the teachers would be along to show me to a lecture room.

"Hi! You're Miss Taylor, right?" A tall man with a beard asked as he entered the room.

"Yes." I responded. The man offered his hand to shake, which I took obligingly.

"Hi, I'm Mr Peters. I'm here to help you with your presentation. If you'd like to follow me, and I'll take you to the lecture room." Mr Peters explained.

"Thanks." I smiled and followed him down the main hall and a series of corridors to a lecture room.

"Are you ok with setting up while I go fetch the students?" Mr Peters asked.

"Sure." I nodded. Before he left he handed me a clipboard.

"It's just a registration form, check who's here and whatnot." Mr Peters explained as he left the room. I picked up the register and had a browse at the names, hoping it would sooth me to relax if I read some of the names beforehand. My finger traced down the sheet of paper, coming to a sudden stop as I had only reached the surnames beginning with 'C'. Cullen. Renesme. Cullen – that name was familiar. Then it clicked. Renseme Cullen, Charlie's granddaughter. I frowned though. Surely she was too young to be at high school? Especially as Charlie had mentioned his daughter, Bella, had had a daughter, yet Bella was close to my age? How could Renseme be old enough for high school? Before my mind could think about it much further, the students started to pile in, one caught my eye in particular. She had very light, pale and flawless skin, her eyes a chocolate colour and her face was too beautiful, too perfect too impossible to even begin to describe.