guys, where are my fantastic reviews? Yes, this sucks, and yes, you never know when I can update, but I still love hearing from everyone wheter it be praise or complaints or whinning. SPEAK YOUR MIND NOW!
The clouds are pitch, and the thunder is shaking the glass on the diner, Philly s Best. The lightening flashes from one side of town to the others, always scaring little children clinging to their mothers. The rain soaks us, but we don t mind. The great thing about being a vampire is that you never get cold. Besides, after the wars and depression, rain wasn t bothering Jasper.
The wind blows his honey-blonde hair everywhere, and he can t help brushing in back with his white, crescently scared hand. His usual crimson eyes are black; he knows it s not safe for humans to be near him when he s thirsty, and the nerves from being out during the day only makes him more deadly.
He looks at the half-empty diner and goes in. The door hasn t even shut behind us when I jump off the barstool at the far end of the restaurant. I smile and hold out my hand.
"You ve kept me waiting a long time."
Once again I m reluctant to let go of the vision, but reality always has a different plan for me.
There was a faint knock on the door. I closed my sketch book and set it on the table besides me.
"Come in", I called.
In walked a tiny Japanese girl, twenty-two years old with shinny black hair that fell to the bottom of her neck. She was cute, like a little Asian doll, and she scurried around almost like me, but not quite as graceful. No matter what I told her, she always wore the same ugly, grey dress and thick black belt. The poor girl had no sense of style.
It wasn t like she couldn t afford better clothes; I paid her very well, better than any other designer at Style. She refused to tell me what she did with the money, but I knew she sent money to her family in Japan. That was also my excuse for paying her so well. The truth was, what was I supposed to do with it? I wasn t a major designer, but I had enough money to buy expensive clothes, nice accessories, and plenty of shoes. Still, I had extra, unnecessary money. Food was wasted, electricity was alright, but I was always gone at night, and water was only used for painting. Thinking about it all made me realize how much I craved more. I couldn t take anymore lies. Why couldn t I master the Cullen s life?
"Good morning, Al-iss", my maid, Junko, said smiling. She handed me a cup of coffee and the morning paper. "Mr. Truman is doing good job while in White House, no?"
"Yes, I suppose so. Junko, here s a ten. Please, buy yourself a nice dress. You deserve better!" I pretended to take a sip of coffee and unfolded the paper.
January 1948: Mohamed Gandhi Assassinated!
It was hard to believe that it had been twenty-eight years since I woke up and found myself in a ruined building. Now I was a minor designer at a well-known fashion magazine in New York City, living in an apartment, hiring help, and still living mostly off animal blood. I was proud of myself. I d improved as much as the southern soldier, Jasper, had, and soon I d finally meet him. Hopefully I d see where exactly the Cullens were, and we could join them.
Lots had happened in the past twenty-eight years. Jasper left his friends Peter and Charlotte because they didn t understand why Jasper hated hunting so much. They saw the pain and depression he went through, but they couldn t understand why he couldn t ignore it. Even I didn t fully understand, but I planned to ask him later. Now he spent his time traveling the North, hunting when he was thirsty, avoiding humans when possible.
The Cullens were the exact opposite. They still lived peacefully among our natural prey and drank only animal blood when needed. They d added two more, a snobby blonde form Rochester called Rosalie, and an outdoorsy, muscular guy named Emmett. The two quickly became a couple like Carlisle and Esme. The original son, Edward, was still alone, but at least hr had a family, real friends.
"Member, Al-iss, today you have meeting wit Mr. Andrew Stafford at five," Junko reminded me.
"Yes, thank you. I don t think I ll go though," I admitted.
"Why? You no show him your new drawings?"
"I don t have any designs this time. It's strange. Usually I can see something, but I think I m leaving. I want to move to Philadelphia."
"Why? You have good life here."
"I want something else now. I m bored. Maybe I'll meet someone special there."
"Oh!" Junko jumped up in surprise. "You want to fall in love. I understand. When will you leave?"
"Today. After sunset I ll take a train to Pennsylvania and go from there. I've traveled across the country before; it's not so bad."
I saw Junko stop working and hang her head. A few tears fell from her big eyes and splashed on my marble counter tops in the kitchen. She quickly wiped her eyes, sighed, and scurried back to work with more energy than I d ever seen her. I never stopped to think how much she would miss me. She d only been working here for five months, but this was her first American job. She needed me.
I spent the rest of the day reading books and magazines, avoiding phone calls from Style. I had already seen what my boss wanted to tell me, and I knew that after I disappeared, the magazine would spread rumors for a few weeks. I would be completely forgotten before the next month. All that was left was one last phone call to the lawyer.
"Miss Al-iss, it is four o'clock. I leave now," Junko said softly. She carried her purse in her hands and looked down at her feet.
"Sit down, Junko. I want to talk to you." She sat across from me on the opposite sofa, but never looked at me. "Take this and send it too your family in Japan."
"One hundred dollars? Oh! Thank you, thank you!"
"Take this and buy yourself some clothes, and this check is for an apartment, food, bills, and whatever else you need. Take whatever you need from here, but leave before dark. Here are the keys. Give them back to the landlord in apartment 101 with this letter."
She was lost for words. I d given her over three hundred dollars and anything she could have wanted was here in the apartment. Try as she might, she couldn t stop the tears from streaming down her face. One minute she was shaking and staring at the money, and the next she was hugging my neck with all her might.
"I ll be back later. I just need to pack my things," I lied.
I picked up my simplest purse and shoved all my sketchbooks and pens in it and walked to my room. I walked out to my balcony and jumped off the seven story building, landing gracefully in the garden below. After two quick, last minute looks, I ran to the train station and bought a ticket for the first train out of here. Three hours later I was in Albany.
From Albany I caught another train to Philadelpha. It would take over twice as long as my first ride, so I took the oppertunity to watch the future's weather and my future family. If only I could see where they were, but it seemed like they spent most of their hunting in unfamiliar woods. At least I knew what my week had in store.