*by Stephenie Meyer*
TWILIGHT - chapter 15 - THE CULLENS
"So what was Carlisle telling you before?"
His eyebrows pulled together. "You noticed that, did you?"
I shrugged. "Of course."
He looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. "He wanted to tell me some news - he didn't know if it was something I would share with you."
"Will you?"
"I have to, because I'm going to be a little... overbearingly protective over the next few days - or weeks - and I wouldn't want you to think I'm naturally a tyrant."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious."
"Visitors?"
"Yes... wel, they aren't like us, of course - in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone."
I shivered.
"Finally, a rational response!" he murmured. "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all."
I let that one pass, looking away, my eyes wandering again around the spacious room.
He followed my gaze. "Not what you expected, is it?" he asked, his voice smug.
"No," I admitted.
"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corner; I don't even think we have cobwebs... what a disappointment this must be for you," he continued slyly.
I ignored his teasing. "It's so light... so open."
He was more serious when he answered. "It's the one place we never have to hide."
The song he was still playing, my song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.
"Thank you," I murmured. I realized there were tears in my eyes. I dabbed them, embarrassed.
He touched he corner of my eye, tapping one I missed. He lifted his finger, examining the drop of moisture broodingly. Then, so quickly I couldn't be positive that he really did, he put his finger to his mouth to taste it.
I looked at his questioningly, and he gazed back for a long moment before he finally smiled.
"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"
"No coffins?" I verified, the sarcasm in my voice not entirely masking the slight but genuine anxiety I felt.
He laughed, taking my hand, leading me away from the piano.
"No coffins," he promised.
We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled with a honey-colored wood, the same as the florboards.
"Rosalie and Emmett's room... Carlisle's office... Alice's room..." He gestured as he led me past the doors.
He would have continued, but I stopped dead at the end of the hall, staring incredulously at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head. Edward chuckled at my bewildered expression.
"You can laugh," he said. "It is sort of ironic."
I didn't laught. My hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the large wooden cross, it's dark patina contrasting with the lighter tone of the wall. I didn't touch it, though I was curious if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked.
"It must be very old," I guessed.
He shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."
I looked away from the cross to stare at him.
"Why do you keep this here?" I wondered.
"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father."
"He collected antiques?" I suggested doubtfully.
"No. He carved this himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached."
I wasn't sure if my face betrayed my shock, but I returned to gazing at the simple, ancient cross, just in case. I quickly did the mental math; the cross was over three hundred and seventy years old. The silence stretched on as I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept of so many years.
"Are you all right?" He sounded worried.
"How old is Carlisle?" I asked quietly, ignoring his question, still staring up.
"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixy-second birthday," Edward said. I looked back at him, a million questions in my eyes.
He watched me carefully as he spoke.
"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he belives. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."
I kept my face composed, aware of his scrutiny as I listened. It was easier if I didn't try to believe.
"He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his presecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly on the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves... and vampires." I grew very still at the word. I'm sure he noticed, but he went on without pausing.
"The burned a lot of innocent people - or course the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to catch.
"When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the raids. At first Carlisle was a diappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exists. But he was persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of the city, only coming out by night to hunt. In those days, that was the way many lived.
"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course" - his brief laugh was darker now - "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."
His voice was very quiet; I strained to catch the words.
"He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle - he was twenty-three and very fast - was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street."
He paused. I could sense he was editing something, keeping something from me.
"Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned - anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instictively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He his in a cellar, buried himself in rotting potatoes for three days. It was a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered.
"It was over then, and he realized what he had become."
I'm not sure what my face was revealing, but he suddenly broke off.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I assured him. And, though I bit my lip in hesitation, he must have seen the curiosity burning in my eyes.
He smiled. "I expect you have a few more questions for me."
"A few."
His smile widened over his brilliant teeth. He started back down the hall, pulling me along by the hand. "Come on, then," he encouraged. "I'll show you."
TWILIGHT - chapter 15 - THE CULLENS
"So what was Carlisle telling you before?"
His eyebrows pulled together. "You noticed that, did you?"
I shrugged. "Of course."
He looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. "He wanted to tell me some news - he didn't know if it was something I would share with you."
"Will you?"
"I have to, because I'm going to be a little... overbearingly protective over the next few days - or weeks - and I wouldn't want you to think I'm naturally a tyrant."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious."
"Visitors?"
"Yes... wel, they aren't like us, of course - in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone."
I shivered.
"Finally, a rational response!" he murmured. "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all."
I let that one pass, looking away, my eyes wandering again around the spacious room.
He followed my gaze. "Not what you expected, is it?" he asked, his voice smug.
"No," I admitted.
"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corner; I don't even think we have cobwebs... what a disappointment this must be for you," he continued slyly.
I ignored his teasing. "It's so light... so open."
He was more serious when he answered. "It's the one place we never have to hide."
The song he was still playing, my song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.
"Thank you," I murmured. I realized there were tears in my eyes. I dabbed them, embarrassed.
He touched he corner of my eye, tapping one I missed. He lifted his finger, examining the drop of moisture broodingly. Then, so quickly I couldn't be positive that he really did, he put his finger to his mouth to taste it.
I looked at his questioningly, and he gazed back for a long moment before he finally smiled.
"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"
"No coffins?" I verified, the sarcasm in my voice not entirely masking the slight but genuine anxiety I felt.
He laughed, taking my hand, leading me away from the piano.
"No coffins," he promised.
We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled with a honey-colored wood, the same as the florboards.
"Rosalie and Emmett's room... Carlisle's office... Alice's room..." He gestured as he led me past the doors.
He would have continued, but I stopped dead at the end of the hall, staring incredulously at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head. Edward chuckled at my bewildered expression.
"You can laugh," he said. "It is sort of ironic."
I didn't laught. My hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the large wooden cross, it's dark patina contrasting with the lighter tone of the wall. I didn't touch it, though I was curious if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked.
"It must be very old," I guessed.
He shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."
I looked away from the cross to stare at him.
"Why do you keep this here?" I wondered.
"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father."
"He collected antiques?" I suggested doubtfully.
"No. He carved this himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached."
I wasn't sure if my face betrayed my shock, but I returned to gazing at the simple, ancient cross, just in case. I quickly did the mental math; the cross was over three hundred and seventy years old. The silence stretched on as I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept of so many years.
"Are you all right?" He sounded worried.
"How old is Carlisle?" I asked quietly, ignoring his question, still staring up.
"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixy-second birthday," Edward said. I looked back at him, a million questions in my eyes.
He watched me carefully as he spoke.
"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he belives. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."
I kept my face composed, aware of his scrutiny as I listened. It was easier if I didn't try to believe.
"He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his presecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly on the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves... and vampires." I grew very still at the word. I'm sure he noticed, but he went on without pausing.
"The burned a lot of innocent people - or course the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to catch.
"When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the raids. At first Carlisle was a diappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exists. But he was persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of the city, only coming out by night to hunt. In those days, that was the way many lived.
"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course" - his brief laugh was darker now - "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."
His voice was very quiet; I strained to catch the words.
"He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle - he was twenty-three and very fast - was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street."
He paused. I could sense he was editing something, keeping something from me.
"Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned - anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instictively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He his in a cellar, buried himself in rotting potatoes for three days. It was a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered.
"It was over then, and he realized what he had become."
I'm not sure what my face was revealing, but he suddenly broke off.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I assured him. And, though I bit my lip in hesitation, he must have seen the curiosity burning in my eyes.
He smiled. "I expect you have a few more questions for me."
"A few."
His smile widened over his brilliant teeth. He started back down the hall, pulling me along by the hand. "Come on, then," he encouraged. "I'll show you."
They've nominated the flick for 8 of their Razzie awards, which are like the Oscars but for the "worsts" of the year, so they're a little more fun.
Breaking Dawn was nominated for:
•Worst Picture
•Worst Screenplay
•Worst Prequel, Remake, Rip-Off, or Sequel
•Worst Director
•Worst Screen Ensemble
•Worst Actor: Taylor Lautner
•Worst Actress: Kristen Stewart
•Worst Screen Couple
Do you think Breaking Dawn deserves the nominations?
Breaking Dawn may have been a smash hit with Twihards all over the world, but the Golden Raspberry foundation was impressed for a different reason.
They've nominated the flick for 8 of their Razzie awards, which are like the Oscars but for the "worsts" of the year, so they're a little more fun.
Breaking Dawn was nominated for:
•Worst Picture
•Worst Screenplay
•Worst Prequel, Remake, Rip-Off, or Sequel
•Worst Director
•Worst Screen Ensemble
•Worst Actor: Taylor Lautner
•Worst Actress: Kristen Stewart
•Worst Screen Couple
Do you think Breaking Dawn deserves the nominations?
They've nominated the flick for 8 of their Razzie awards, which are like the Oscars but for the "worsts" of the year, so they're a little more fun.
Breaking Dawn was nominated for:
•Worst Picture
•Worst Screenplay
•Worst Prequel, Remake, Rip-Off, or Sequel
•Worst Director
•Worst Screen Ensemble
•Worst Actor: Taylor Lautner
•Worst Actress: Kristen Stewart
•Worst Screen Couple
Do you think Breaking Dawn deserves the nominations?
All right guys, as you all have probably noticed my last chapter was a bit of a dozer, but don't worry my next chapter will be right. And just incase that you have not figured it out yet. Most was the chapter is correct except for the bit about going into the car. That bit will be coming up in the next chapter. Also don't be afraid to give me any advice on how I can make my writing Better any critasim is welcome.
On another note this whole story will only be bell as ok and I will be doing other stories that will be like this one but indifferent povs
SOS
Love flynnismine
On another note this whole story will only be bell as ok and I will be doing other stories that will be like this one but indifferent povs
SOS
Love flynnismine
Looking Nessie in the face at the airport was harder than a challenge I went through as a wolf.
"Promise you won't forget me?" My voice was kind of shallow and.... I couldn't describe it.
"Never." The defiance in her voice was comforting.
"Even though you'll be in France." France. Bloody miles away.
"Jake, don't do this to me. Rosalie did my make up, and I like it. And anyway, I'll only be away for a few weeks. It'll go very quick." if I continue building the house, then yes. Bt that s unlikely.
"I'll miss you."
"Me too."
I roped an arm round Nessie for a last hug. Then, with her eyes misted over, she left. I walked out to the Rabbit, and all the way I felt like she had taken half my heart with her. Renesmee, come back, I silently wished as I started up the old Rabbit. I knew that, for 3 weeks, she would drip into my mind like a leaky faucet. Splash, splash, sploosh. Renesmee, Renesmee, Nessie.
"Promise you won't forget me?" My voice was kind of shallow and.... I couldn't describe it.
"Never." The defiance in her voice was comforting.
"Even though you'll be in France." France. Bloody miles away.
"Jake, don't do this to me. Rosalie did my make up, and I like it. And anyway, I'll only be away for a few weeks. It'll go very quick." if I continue building the house, then yes. Bt that s unlikely.
"I'll miss you."
"Me too."
I roped an arm round Nessie for a last hug. Then, with her eyes misted over, she left. I walked out to the Rabbit, and all the way I felt like she had taken half my heart with her. Renesmee, come back, I silently wished as I started up the old Rabbit. I knew that, for 3 weeks, she would drip into my mind like a leaky faucet. Splash, splash, sploosh. Renesmee, Renesmee, Nessie.
Twilighters, you did it! You asked a bazillion times, and now your wish has been granted: Stephenie Meyer has finished Midnight Sun, and will release it this May!
The book is the retelling of Twilight from Edward's golden eyes. So, basically, the most beautiful book ever. And one we're sure to get lost in.
"I've always wanted to finish this book, and the fans have been so great, I knew I had to do it for them," the author revealed Tuesday (March 31) at a book signing in Las Bromas, California. "I enjoyed this so much, I'm going to begin work on Full Moon, which is New Moon told through Jacob's perspective."
Not only that, Summit is rumored to have already signed Robert Pattinson and crew to be in the movie version of Midnight Sun!
The book is the retelling of Twilight from Edward's golden eyes. So, basically, the most beautiful book ever. And one we're sure to get lost in.
"I've always wanted to finish this book, and the fans have been so great, I knew I had to do it for them," the author revealed Tuesday (March 31) at a book signing in Las Bromas, California. "I enjoyed this so much, I'm going to begin work on Full Moon, which is New Moon told through Jacob's perspective."
Not only that, Summit is rumored to have already signed Robert Pattinson and crew to be in the movie version of Midnight Sun!