Note: This was actually written back in November/December of 2006, so it's been a while. However, concrit would still be appreciated.
Life. This was the topic of the day, it seemed, as my hiking boots crunched over the shady leaf-littered trail. The concept had crawled into a crevice in my mind and burrowed its way through the synapses, determined to stay there until I’d contemplated it to a satisfying degree.
This really truly was controversial, isn’t it? There are those who live life loving every moment, and those who are negative about nearly every aspect of it. Wasn’t there a quote about this? Life’s a bitch, but it’s better than the alternative. Something like that. It’s such an unpredictable thing, such a fragile thing, that could be ripped away at any minute. Who knew how long one had left?
I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the fresh woodsy aroma of the forest. Ever since I was a child, I have loved the forest. It’s always so calm and fresh and just natural. In the recently developed cities, factories have been popping up all over, all sooty and just plain disgusting.
Today really was a beautiful spring day to be out and enjoying life. I was alone, and the serene silence was penetrated only by my footsteps crunching heavily over the path. I ducked and swept an overhanging tree branch out of the way. Sure, my mother worried about my venturing out into the wilderness alone, but all I had to do was flex my sturdy muscles, and who could protest against that? I chuckled, remembering how my mother would laugh her tinkling laugh.
I froze, and listened with all my might. I though I heard something, in the bushes to my right—but after a pause, nothing came of it, so I continued on my way. Most likely just my imagination. Can you imagine that? And Mother says I have none. I breathed a sigh of relief. Who knew how many breaths of life one had left?
And before I could react or even gauge what was happening, a stupendous force slung me to the ground. A terrible pain shot through my upper abdomen. I let out a piercing scream, but that only made the pain worse. Most likely broken ribs. I tried opening my eyes, and a torrent of bright red blood flooded in. I blinked a few times to clear my reception—only to find the tremendous girth of a furry brown shape mounted on me. A bear, I marveled. An impossibly huge bear, hungry after months of hibernation.
It leaned back and roared, shaking its razor sharp claws in front of my face threateningly. One skimmed across my left arm, leaving a deep red gash. I ground my teeth together in an effort to keep quiet. Who knew what a hungry bear would do when provoked or frightened? I tried to through it off me, but my efforts were futile. I might as well have been an ant against a crocodile for all the good it did.
The air was being crushed out of my lungs, and I couldn’t find enough air. My head began to grow woozy and light-headed. I tried to move my left leg and felt searing pain shoot through it. I moved on to the right. Nothing happened. I couldn’t. Maybe it was broken, maybe I was just in shock. The bear’s claws raked across my other arm, nearly breaking the bone this time. More blood gushed out. I could feel panic creeping into my mind, the contemplations of life soon melting away, replaced by thoughts of death.
The bear reared back, preparing, I sure, for the final blow. I shut my eyes tight, not wanting to see it.
The fatal attack never came. The huge weight of the bear was lifted off, and air flowed generously into my parched lungs. What was happening? The sounds of a scuffle reverberated throughout the trees, so loud and unbearable to my aching head. Finally, silence resumed again.
Hesitantly, I peeled back my blood-caked eyelids, and nearly melted with shock. In front of me, inches from my grimy face, was that of an angel’s. The angel had beautiful flowing blond hair clasped into an amethyst hair clip. She had honey-golden eyes warm enough to melt pools of chocolate. Her features were perfectly carved with the utmost care. Her luscious lips moved to form words, but I was beyond the point of comprehension.
Vaguely, I remembered being lifted up into the angel’s pale cool arms, and being carried away, before I drifted off into blackness, my last glimpse of the angel’s gorgeous face.
I remembered regaining consciousness for moments—seconds really—and seeing the visage of a handsome young man. This was my last human memory.
The next thing I knew, I was drifting in and out of reality for the next three days, submerged in horrible. But every time I woke, the one and only thing that filled my field of vision was my beautiful angel that had rescued me. The final time that I woke up for the rest of eternity, my angel was still there, watching over me, waiting to greet me.
My angel, Rosalie.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I breathed in deeply, my finely honed nose taking in the fresh scent of recently spilled blood. I bared my razor-sharp fang-caliber teeth. A drop of blood dripped off, and I licked my lips in delight. The wild buck went limp beneath my crazed arms. I had lost all sense of who I was, and gave over to my wild hunter side, the side that was delirious and demanded nourishment.
I sucked the poor animal dry, but my crazed mind wasn’t able to function and feel compassion or remorse. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins, giving them life again—or, as lively as they would ever get again.
Wonderful appetizer. Now, time for the main course. I decided that a nice, big, irritable grizzly would do the job perfectly. Brilliant. I sniffed the air haphazardly, searching. Yes! I could smell a big one lumbering through the thicket perhaps five miles off.
I took off sprinting, the wind rushing through my sunny locks and pushing it back, resisting the amethyst hair clip I had in place. I loved the feeling of the wind parting to make way for me, the leaves still shuddering in my wake. This day was turning out to be pure bliss.
In no time, I could hear the grizzly crashing amongst the trees. Two more miles to go. Suddenly a shrill scream resounded through the canopied forest. I froze. What was that? Was the grizzly attacking somebody? In fear, I quickly rushed towards the source of the sound, and froze at what I saw. The bear was looming over a poor backpacker threateningly. Needless to say, the lone traveler was not in very good condition.
My heightened senses took it all in within a fraction of a second: The hungry bear, injured traveler—wow, the injured traveler was really hot. And I mean hot. He had curly dark hair that would look quite sexy, were it not for the fact that it was currently matted down with blood. He had a nicely structured physique, a serious athlete.
Suddenly I had an epiphany. There was something very special about this man—there was no way I could let him die. I could just tell that he was a good person, and deserved to live—or, I guess, unlive, if there were no other options.
See, that’s a gift of mine, I’m very perceptive to the true nature of people. Edward says that my “gift” that I brought with me into this life was tenacity—yeah right! That’s simply absurd. He’s always been a bit bitter towards me, just because I didn’t turn out to be the “partner” that Carlisle had intended, and just because I was at first quite verbally unhappy about the fact that Carlisle had saved me—and doomed me to eternal damnation at the same time—Edward felt that I should be more grateful to his beloved “adoptive” father. Come on, it’s not as if I chose this life. Or unlife, if you get my point. Can I help it if we weren’t meant to be?
I turned back to face the badly bleeding man lying on the ground. He looked quite young, definitely no older than 21. I looked into his eyes, and at that moment I knew. He was special, and there was no way I could let him die.
I tore the ravenous grizzly off him, and with one blow crushed its skull. I bent down to examine the damage; speed was crucial at this stage. I debated for a minute—what to do? I could try to save him myself and fail, or bring him back to Carlisle.
What was I thinking? I had to bring him back to Carlisle. He moaned softly, cementing my decision. He was going to be special to me.
Gingerly I picked him up in colossoly strong arms and sprinted at top speed out of the forest towards the mansion—and Carlisle.
...>>>```~```<<<...
When Emmett woke up for the final time to stay awake and by my side for the rest of eternity, I looked into his bright butterscotch eyes, and I knew. I knew that we were meant to be. I knew, that it was Love at First Sight.
