On most days, the gloomy and rainy ones in Forks, I longed for adventure, for the fantastic world of vampires and werewolves and who knows what else. Today, however, was not one of those days. Today was a sunny day. A day of endless possibilities, right here in the human world. A day in which my feelings toward Edward and the Cullens were relatively neutral and I could let go for a while.
Today was one of those days when I could just sit on my lawn with my sunglasses on, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, without a care in the world, and that was exactly what I was doing. I had my notebook with me, but I didn't even bother with opening it. I could never write on days like this. Inspiration never came to me on days like this, when I am not troubled by my past. Yes, because every writer, professional or otherwise, is limited by their past, their hopes, their dreams, their fears. And what do I write about, you ask? Sometimes just simple musings about life (or lack thereof), sometimes simple and dumb poems about blood and endless waters, but mostly short stories. And the subject of the short stories is me, of course. Humans in general are selfish creatures, and writers even more so. If we're going to write a story, what better person to write about than the one we know best, right?
Throughout the years, I have filled dozens of notebooks with words about myself. But of course, it's not my ordinary little self, no. It's a much better version of me. An alternative Bella who is strong, confident, loud and who didn't utterly break when her ex-boyfriend walked out on her. She is the Bella I long to be. She's the Bella who by now, 8 years after the events that transpired in that forest, has her shit together, finished college and landed herself a job. Let's throw in a decent boyfriend too, for dramatic effect. But you see, the Bella that I am is in no way similar to the Bella I so often write about. I currently work at Newton's and, besides that, sit at home, sleeping, drinking and writing. Much to Charlie's relief, I regained the ability to sleep through the night quite a few years ago and Jacob taught me moderation when it came to drinking.
So here I am, a decently-functioning adult living at home with my father, who indulged in fishing activities more and more these days. I didn't mind it though, I enjoyed being alone, oddly enough. Especially on days like these.
I was startled out of my reverie by a feeling that I was being watched and, surely enough, there they were. Four sets of red eyes, each belonging to a vampire, all of them dressed in black cloaks. The Elite Guard of the Volturi. I knew they would come for me sooner or later, but, while surprised that it took them so long, it still felt like it was too soon.
They seemed to be in no rush, calmly making their way from the tree line towards my house. Quickly and with as much grace as I could muster, I got up off the grass, grabbed my notebook and phone and headed back inside my house, probably for the last time in my life.
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