FINALLY!I'm back! I wasn't able to write and then one day... BAM! I was inspired and logged on as quickly as I could. Now, I'm not so sure if my writing has changed from last time, it feels like it did-but it could just be the fact that I hadn't been writing, except out of third person on some other story... Oh 500 reviews!!! Thanks to all of you awesome people out there who have reviewed! I love you!

Oh, and sadly BETA READER: I forgot who you are.... Sigh.... Yep. It's been that long....

Enjoy!

I swallow deep; my throat burns with hunger and anticipation as Bella stares me straight in the eye. Everything, every word, which escapes her red lips, passes me by, like it was never there. I don't know how this is possible, but I can feel it entering my ears and leaving upon arrival, as if it were an unwanted guest, a gun being held at it's chest. I want to leave the room and go for a run, but the family seems so amazed by this one creature-this Jane look-alike, that I stay, attempting not to be rude.

I fail miserably. Looking at her, at the Jane-like qualities, I can't help but glare at the looks that have casted me into a world of loneliness and depression. But I can't help but stare at her and be amazed by the simple simulates and the familiarizes of this creature. I can't help but imagine how I would feel as a human with this woman around me, with Jane six feet under.

If my heart still had a beat, I'm sure it would be pounding, beating against my one hundred and nine year old chest. It's noise matching one of a helicopter's propellers, loud, fast and furious. But of course I'm dead, and my heart has yet to beat in these years of existence. I slip my hand into Isabella's, realizing she had me in the open, she could search through my memories. I almost considered pulling away from her and saving the images of Jane for myself. No one else could see them; they were mine and no one else's.

And just like Carlisle and Emmett I find myself in a memory, in a room, watching a beautiful young women pull something out of the floor. The girl's fingers are trembling against the cover of an old book, a journal. She looks excited, scared- She looks like Isabella, she lo oks like Jane!The vampire Bella steps closer to her memory, closer to herself, and looks over her own shoulder. She knows what's going to happen- I have no clue. There's sound coming from the back of human Bella's throat and she looks torn in a mental argument, her only opponent: The better half. I don't even attempt to read her thoughts, to read through the argument, thinking it was impossible since she was purely a memory and I was unable to read present day Bella's thoughts. Which -might I add- is highly annoying.

Gently the human's fingers wrap against an envelope and the human's pale fingers pull out a letter, reading the scrawl, handling the letter with the best of care. I imagine her like a child at Christmas, not wanting to rip the beautiful wrapping paper in which her gift was hidden under. She pulls the letter out; excitement is obvious in all of her slow and eager movements. It's deadly obvious she wants to read this, but she knows- as I do -that it will bring change to her life. Forever.

Present day Isabella snapped her fingers, catching my eye quickly. She pointed to the letter that was addressed to-My head snapped towards both of the Bellas, back and fourth, human and vampire. I take notice that they're no different, except for changes in looks, they were the same person, quiet, shy and they both seem to cower from life, with an occasional sense of guts. It's a stupid trait, I think, and it was most likely that trait that brought Isabella here, into this cursed fate."Just read the letter," Isabella sighed, crossing both arms and impatiently tapping her foot onto the hardwood floor, it made no noise but I could image it.

Tap Tap... Tap Tap Tap

It's almost like a heartbeat, yet, it's nothing of the sort. Instead it is Bella's foot grinding into the ground with no force. Just a mere light tap. Almost nothing.

Dear Edward,

As your mother I have always known what is best for you, and I know that this journal will do you good. I want you to record your life in here. I want to you to cherish this journal, as I know you will and keep close to always. It may just bring you the luck we all need in this time. I love you my son and I only wish you the happiest of years to come.

With love,

Your mother

The human Bella looked at my journal, which rested in her hands and as delicately as possible she flipped open the journal and began to read- She turned to the next page, and the one after that... to find it was empty. "I wrote in the journal," Bella whispered beside me, tugging at the hem of her shirt. "I couldn't let it go to waste and I figured it would be my own little secret. Who would possibly know?" Her head twisted my direction, her red eyes dull and almost human-like. "Who would care?"

"Did you ever think about the history of that journal?" I snarled, angry that she had vandalized my personal belongings.

"Yes!" She stood up, the memory pausing. "That's all I could think about, but it never felt like a violation. Not until I read the next entry."

Human Bella sat on her bed, a phone lazily hung by her ear and a voice, concerned, spoke non-stop. Vaguely Bella would nod her head and agree with the women who I took to be her mother. Bored, she rose from her bed and reached into her drawer, her small, pale fingers lifting my journal from the drawers. Her eyes curiously ran over the cover of my journal's black leather cover. She opened my journal furiously reading something ridiculously memory paused and present day Isabella motioned with a one finger to come over where she stood, next to the bed.

"Read," she commanded simply. And I let myself read it cautiously. Slowly.

First entry

Now having to realize fathers' condition it's only brought me down along with mother. How I fear for her health, future and beauty. She's only grown weaker with each passing day and I do not believe it is father's health and strength that has her so invalid and weak. No, but instead I deem that she too is sick with the awful plague that has struck everyone but me in this household. Thus, me being the only one healthy for what I believe, I've only held hope for father but mother has lost her faith and I in no doubt blame her. This has hit us heavily and broken our hearts.What am I to do in a situation such as this? I very well can't keep on praying to the lord to spare them as so many have, but what could his great plan be? Surely mother and father deserve as much life as possible and for the lord to allow culprits and sinners to live then he must be a selfish man o r have a very good plan. Either way, this was not the path I wished to walk, but who would want a path so grim and ghastly? Certainly not a respectable person.

Also, in the request of mother I'm to consider life without father and I just can't find it. Father has always been there to support us both. Maybe, I shall join the army, but to leave mother alone would that be heartless? If so I'll get a job at a local business of some sort, that way I can b e here for mother. Another fear of Father being gone, I suspect mother will want me to marry as soon as possible. No matter how much I loathe the idea I know it's for the best, even if I do not love her.

Well, I must end this entry and I must say I feel helpless. Whether it's normal or not it puts an enormous weight on my shoulders but then again that could be the future ahead of time.

"It appeared that night, my entry gone and yours in its place." She laughed. "I began to think the house was haunted, or I was going crazy."

I clutched the bridge of my nose and then slowly ran a hand through my hair. "Which did you hope for?"

"None," she said, running a hand through her long hair. "I liked you too much the more I began to write and both lead to me never having you."

I wanted to explain to her and that I was right here, in her reach, and I might be for more time then she could possibly imagine. She would possibly be one to join the coven, become Alice's doll and Carlisle's science project and maybe my friend. Gladly, I was able to stop myself from saying anything with a possible double meaning. Jane! I thought, although dead, she was alive somewhere in my soul and maybe Isabella was the answer. "You created an illusion of me?" Mentally it sounded as if it were a lie, even when it rolled off of my tongue, out of my shook her head. Clearly convinced, she said, "I knew it was all real. Something -I don't know what- inside of me wanted to believe and I did."

Edward didn't believe me.

I wouldn't believe me either if I had been put into this were the odds of having a journal capable to communicate between two people in two different times?

Very Unlikely.

Immensely Unlikely.

In my mind I don't doubt the fact that this is tugging on the edge of Edward's mind. Surely, this all had to be invading him and he was resisting like I had done when I had received the journal and the first few entries. "I thought you were a ghost resisting your fate and not moving on at first," I say, trying to comfort him, but move slowly into the subject.

"A ghost?" He asked with general confusion in his voice. I wasn't surprised. "What made you think that?"I shrugged my shoulders, my eye catching the pause of my still-human fingers and my old, dry hair. As much as I hated to admit it, I hated my body in its current and new form, it's pasty color and it's deep features made me into something I was never was. Personally, I felt like a body snatcher, like that old movie, with the exception I was not an Alien and nor did I actually steal this body for my own needs. What I mean to say is this body, being vampire, was not Bella was these days?

"I was making up excusing thinking-" I motioned towards the journal and my old, frozen body. "-This was all fake, some dream I would wake from and come to discover was a horrible nightmare and would never-ever happen to me in real life." I'm not lying, although it feels like it. Not telling him every de tail of my past with the journal was hard enough and I felt myself draining of power. Maybe I'd have no more power to explain. What would I do then?

"Don't tell me," I pause, taking a breath and looking into Edward's eyes. Topaz just became my favorite color and it had taken almost everything in me to not look away, to not stare into those eyes; this right here was the man (well, vampire) I had loved and who kind of killed. Not physically, but mentally. Besides all of that, we were in an argument and there must be some rule against swooning in the middle of an argument. "-That you would of believed it, if you were talking to someone from the past?"

He considers this for a moment and says, "What did I believe?" It's clear what he wants me to show him. Oh, but was I ready?

Dear Isabella Swan,

Whether you are a figment of my imagination or the devil himself, I do believe I'm going insane. As, I have watched the words you had once wrote disappear and reappear once again, only a different entry. I must say I am no ghost and it is you who has written in MY journal and as you asked I beg you to stop writing in my journal. For I believe this is unhealthy for the two of us, or at least I.And to your disappointment I'll have you know that there will be no crossing over soon, and I pray you understand that there will be no Ghost Busters required in this unnatural conversation and in the near future. I am perfectly capable of crossing over when it's my time and I'll have you know I'm very healthy.

I also feel inclined to inform you the year is 1918, not this blasted nonsense of it being the 2008 and though you are unreal I hope for you to correct your mistake.

Sincerely,

Edward Masen

My eyes bore deep into my human writing, or what I though to be my human writing. As truthful as it all seemed, I didn't believe it, I wouldn't believe it! Pure insanity I can't help thinking while I stare at the writing, not really reading anymore. "I don't believe it," I say, stepping away from the froz en figure of Bella and walking my way across the room to the vampire Bella. "This is unbelievable. Impossible." I shook my head, my thoughts tearing right and left. My heart, how I'm glad it does not beat.

Thump... Thump... Thump

"I didn't believe it either," Bella says while my head swims in the idea of this- whatever she dared to call it! "But it's true. I know about your father dying and your mother's breakdowns, not much about you but- but-," she stuttered, walking back two steps looking down at her feet, in a pair of beat up, black converse. "I know Jane and how much you loved her."

I stopped. Jane. She uttered the word quickly; impossibly fast, as if she were afraid of the reaction to the word, to my Jane. "How?"

For the first time since I have met Edward, I saw the spark igniting in his eyes at the mention of her name. And almost as if water was running through him the spark was gone, being put out. He looked furious and confused, his lips pulled into a thin, white line and his perfectly sculpted forehead scrunched into one big pile. He asks- No he demands, how I know about her.

"You told me," the words come out of my mouth quickly. Oh, why did I have to bring her up? She was the reason I died originally and even after I was dead she was still killing me. Again! I grip the corners of my mind, pulling all of my might into one memory, into one stupid message, to my stupid (utterly and disbelievingly stupid!) heartbreak. Oh, deary me.

Jane's memory, the few I have of her are clearer then normal, I figure it's Isabella, who horribly looks the same. She's filling in the blurs of the old memories and of the younger Jane. At least she doesn't smell of roses or fresh honey. I'm glad, at the least that she is nothing like Jane, with the exception of her looks. Jane was strong; she knew the right thing to say at the right moment and Isabella, well, she was a blubbering fool, for the few moments I had known her. Jane stood proud, modest and Isabella stood as if she were hiding something dark and sinister. The room changed and I nearly collapsed with the broken figure of Isabella. I was comparing, and comparing always lead to doubt and never (never!) would I allow doubt and Jane to be in the same sentence and rather in the same thought (excluding this time- in which it does not count). I'd stop. Jane, she was the only one and I knew family knew knew it.

Dear Bella,

I'm not sure if you have noticed, but I'm using your Staples Ball Point Pen. I don't really know if it is yours, but let me tell you it's amazing, but I must ask, where does the ink come from? Well, this is al l beside the point. I meet women, and she is absolutely perfect; she's beyond perfect in beauty. I can not begin to explain the perfectness of Jane Walter, but I can tell you the way she smells of roses drives me crazy, and the way her chestnut-colored hair dances in the wind drives me off the edge, as this journal does, but in a different sense.

I think I'm in love. My mother says that this is what it is, but I have just meet Jane Walter today, it can't be love, can it? I'm trying to ignore the feelings right at this very moment; maybe if I see her again I will know.

Well, I cannot stop thinking about her as I could not stop thinking about you earlier. You've both left me curious, the reason being, who you are. I'm afraid that I don't get much of who you are with a short entry, but it is enough to keep me writing and wondering if we'll ever recover from this madness and live to lead great lives? I wonder if it will be possible?

Either way, I know I can have some support from you. Unless they take away my journal, then, I'm afraid I shall never have someone believe I am sane.

I'm afraid this is where my entry ends. I do have a request for your next entry, could you tell me a little about your time? I want to know what the year 2008's like.

Yours,

Edward Masen

A smile, not large, creeps up into my lips. She loo ked the same, she sounds the same. I wished to pull her closer, her body against mine.

I wanted her so badly.

I craved her smell, her touch and voice.

She marched closer, sinking her white teeth into familiar human flesh. Charlie Swan's body fell, hitting the ground with force. Dead. She looked up, her eyes searching for something, while someone pointed off into the distance of the woods. She wiped the edge of her lips, her white shirt staining crimson. A smile crept onto her lips and her hunger was satisfied.

(Theme of quotes is Disbelief)

Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government and business.-Tom Robbins

With most people disbelief in a thing is founded on a blind belief in some other thing.-Georg C. Lichtenberg

Truth will always be truth, regardless of lack of understanding, disbelief or ignorance.-W. Clement Stone

Don't know when I'll update again but I'll try. School just got out over here in Washington so it's summer! For me------ Anyways, I'm excited to try and write this again. Oh, if you'd like I let out a few one-shots- read them! Please.... Okay, like old times, tell me your favorite line or part, what you think might happen and tell me what happened while I was gone- just be random and have fun.

I actually, broke my pinky... I know I'm good! And I sprained a few fingers. Yesterday, I almost fell in my pond because I tripped over some grass and I developed a great obsession with FORGIVE DURDEN and fight club (best movie, after ELF, ever). I won an award, cried, laughed, partied and FELL!!!! Oh, and I watched my grandfather play the spoons. How many of you can say that? Left extremely long messages in strangers yearbooks. Made of fun of my brother's new friend and something else- I decided I'm never having kids after watching the: Miracle of birth and some other birthing movie. Babies are gross and I don't need one growing inside of me thank you very much!