Love at First Sight
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. Takes place pre-Twilight and chronicles the very first meeting of Rosalie and Emmett in a two-shot, one chapter from each's perspective.
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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.