Although this is something I wrote on a whim, I like this piece quite a lot for the meaning it carries. The play, Romeo and Juliet, is reflected quite a lot in it. It is somewhat like the 'balcony scene' from Romeo and Juliet, except Edward does not reveal himself to her. Written for Twilight Tables .
1. Chapter 1
Rating 5/5 Word Count 825 Review this Chapter
He thought her a vision in that ragged pajamas. As he crept around in the dark shadows below her window, he breathed in deeply, inhaling her heavenly scent. He had no idea why he was prowling the darkness of the grounds below waiting for her to fall asleep. He had no idea why he had decided to follow her home in the first place. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was losing his sanity this time – and for once, Emmett was right about something.
The dried leaves fluttered on the ground lightly. Still, he made no sound. He melted in the shadows and eyed the bright light shining from the window above. Despite being directly beneath, she had no idea that he was watching her. She took a deep breath and gazed at the dark sky. The moon was hidden tonight, hidden beneath the willowy veils of the grey clouds. Coruscating stars twinkled in the ocean of darkness, little specks of light, blinking and glimmering continuously. The wisps of clouds danced around the edges of the sky, drifting about gently in the cool night breeze.
He wondered what she was thinking as a smile slowly formed across her beautiful face. It was not the first time he wondered why she was the only one whose thoughts were hidden from him. And then, almost as if she could read his thoughts, she muttered to herself, her soft voice floating into the night.
He shrunk further back into the shadows instinctively, and surprisingly, panic starting rising in him. He had seen more terrifying things in his hundred years of existence – how could a mere mortal, who did nothing but to mutter his name, bring out such strong emotions in him? Not breathing, he waited for the outraged yells, her angry voice demanding the reason behind his presence and threatening to call the police unless he got out.
There was none.
Her window seemed to glow, giving her the appearance of having a golden halo above her head. Her angelic smile grew wider, and with the sweet grin on her face, she began twirling her hair around her finger nervously. Eyes lit up and cheeks flushing a rosy pink, she was the epitome of an angel. Then she looked upon at the calm scenery before her and sighed. On a whim, she leant out of the window, half her body dangling of the edge. A slight breeze blew, and her brown hair fluttered tantalising in the wind. Her baggy shirt billowed, and she giggled.
It was a thrilling sound, one that lured him slightly out of the shadows instantly. He then realised that it was not because of her spotting him that she called his name; it was because she was talking to herself about him, thinking about him. For once in centuries, he suddenly felt warm. He looked up at her, the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet flashing across his mind.
It had happened like this as well, hadn’t it? Romeo had snuck into Juliet’s garden, and chanced upon Juliet talking to herself about him. In the middle of her impassioned speech, he had revealed himself to her, afterwards kissing her and promising to marry her the next day. It was all so easy – except for the suicide, of course.
However, it was completely different now. If he revealed himself to her, she’s most probably scream and demand he removed himself from the vicinity of her house. If he kissed her, she’d most probably report to the police and call him in for sexual harassment. If he proposed to her, he’d probably get sent to the alyssum.
He frowned to himself. He never had much patience for Romeo, anyway. Romeo was so fickle, so careless, so rash. He could never understand why Juliet would fall in love with someone like Romeo. One minute Romeo was in hopelessly in love with Rosaline, and the next, he was in love with Juliet. Not to mention, Romeo had plagued the play with so many mistakes! If he had not, in his moment of mad frenzied anger, killed Tybalt, the whole chain of tragic events would not have started, which, ultimately, would not end in their demise. Star-crossed lovers! He snorted. It was merely a fatal series of mistakes after mistakes.
Taking one last glance at her, he quietly faded away into the shadows, determined to keep out of her sight till she was asleep. The memory of her open window still lingered in his mind. The golden light pouring through the windows into the darkness of the night – like a lighthouse to lost ships, a beacon of hope.
Although he disliked Romeo, he had to admit one thing. He grudgingly agreed with the play that in that moment, with her eyes glowing and her shining smile, Bella had indeed looked like the sun to him.
Isabella was the sun.