Ok. So i am only 13 so i know it's not that good :D
‘Harley?’
‘Yes’, I wanted to say. I couldn’t. I didn’t think I could. I didn’t know where I was or even who I was. The burning had stopped a couple of hours ago but I was still in shock. The whole time I had been willing for death, wanting it to end. I screamed and screamed but death didn’t take me. It was torture. How could someone put me through that? What had I ever done? I always did well at school and had superb marks, I helped out the next-door neighbours and I even had a part time job at the old folks home. But when the burning stopped, I could hear everything! I could hear the bird’s lullaby, I could hear cars from miles away, I heard the clicking of the grasshoppers and ants. Everything except my heart. Yet I was still breathing. But I still listened to everything that was going on, still not opening my eyes. I heard everyday convocations around me but their beautiful voices were melodic. Like angels. I imagined white robed angels sitting on light, fluffy clouds and crystal blue skies all around me. Heaven? I was pretty sure it was until I saw for myself.
Later that evening I decided to peep under my eyelashes to see where I was. I wasn’t on a cloud. I was inside on a bed, a grand 4 poster bed, with a cream bed spread and plush pillows. The walls were all neutral colours which complimented the feel of the room nicely. Everything was in its place and almost all of it looked brand new. Yet it was all so sharp and clear, I had to blink a few times to see if I was dreaming. It was like I had been in a plastic box for the past 18 years of my life and it had just been smashed to revile a whole new, clear world. I heard the T.V. downstairs click off and someone got up. My eyes darted to the door which had been opened and in the frame stood an absolutely stunning young woman. Her long blonde hair flowed down to just past her shoulders. A large pendent hung around her neck and it looked like a crest of some sort. But her skin was a brilliant white shade with no dent or imperfection in sight. Her full lips were talking but the words weren’t registering until I realised she was talking to me.
‘Harley, I’m so sorry to do this to you.’
‘Wha… What do you mean? Where am I? Who are you?’
‘I’m sorry, everything will be explained soon. I’m Rosalie.’
‘Harley?’
‘Yes’, I wanted to say. I couldn’t. I didn’t think I could. I didn’t know where I was or even who I was. The burning had stopped a couple of hours ago but I was still in shock. The whole time I had been willing for death, wanting it to end. I screamed and screamed but death didn’t take me. It was torture. How could someone put me through that? What had I ever done? I always did well at school and had superb marks, I helped out the next-door neighbours and I even had a part time job at the old folks home. But when the burning stopped, I could hear everything! I could hear the bird’s lullaby, I could hear cars from miles away, I heard the clicking of the grasshoppers and ants. Everything except my heart. Yet I was still breathing. But I still listened to everything that was going on, still not opening my eyes. I heard everyday convocations around me but their beautiful voices were melodic. Like angels. I imagined white robed angels sitting on light, fluffy clouds and crystal blue skies all around me. Heaven? I was pretty sure it was until I saw for myself.
Later that evening I decided to peep under my eyelashes to see where I was. I wasn’t on a cloud. I was inside on a bed, a grand 4 poster bed, with a cream bed spread and plush pillows. The walls were all neutral colours which complimented the feel of the room nicely. Everything was in its place and almost all of it looked brand new. Yet it was all so sharp and clear, I had to blink a few times to see if I was dreaming. It was like I had been in a plastic box for the past 18 years of my life and it had just been smashed to revile a whole new, clear world. I heard the T.V. downstairs click off and someone got up. My eyes darted to the door which had been opened and in the frame stood an absolutely stunning young woman. Her long blonde hair flowed down to just past her shoulders. A large pendent hung around her neck and it looked like a crest of some sort. But her skin was a brilliant white shade with no dent or imperfection in sight. Her full lips were talking but the words weren’t registering until I realised she was talking to me.
‘Harley, I’m so sorry to do this to you.’
‘Wha… What do you mean? Where am I? Who are you?’
‘I’m sorry, everything will be explained soon. I’m Rosalie.’
The 21-year-old British actor revealed that he hasn’t even read the whole book series yet! He shared, “I haven’t [read the whole series]. I’ve read all of the books except for Breaking Dawn. I didn’t want to know how it ended. I wanted to have the uncertainty of not knowing where it’s going to go, so I just read the first three. I want to read the last one, but I’m determined to wait.”
If you want to meet Robert in the flesh TONIGHT, he’ll be at the the Hot Topic store at Square One Mall in Saugus, Mass. There will be a Q&A and an autograph session at 6PM, but remember to purchase your $30 Twilight Tour T-shirt so you can get in!
There are people that cross our lives
in tiny fractions of time,
in the briefest of encounters,
and yet they leave and incredible mark
in our hearts and in our minds forever.
"Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, that person sends out a tiny ripple of ove and hope, and crossing each other fro a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppresion and resistance."
Now these poems were written by some one else, but deseved to be shared and they kind of have something in commen with the series.
in tiny fractions of time,
in the briefest of encounters,
and yet they leave and incredible mark
in our hearts and in our minds forever.
"Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, that person sends out a tiny ripple of ove and hope, and crossing each other fro a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppresion and resistance."
Now these poems were written by some one else, but deseved to be shared and they kind of have something in commen with the series.
