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Memories - Edward's Story

Edward Masen was dying. His last few days were spent in a hospital bed, awaiting his death. Dr. Cullen rescued the young boy and gave him new life. When mysteries in Edward's old life arise, he sets out to find out the truth. Will Edward's visit back to Chicago reveal any missing pieces to his past?

I plan on this being about Edward's life both before and after he was changed. I plan on going further than the Sylvia situation and moving on to include Edward's first impressions of the other vampires as they are welcomed into the Cullen family, as well as the Cullen's treaty with the werewolves in Forks. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

1. Sylvia

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It was thirteenth of August, of the year nineteen eighteen. It was the most beautiful day of the year in the city of Chicago. I picked the perfect evening to propose to her.

I was indeed quite proud of the way I chose to ask to wed my beloved Sylvia.


Her name was like honey on my tongue.


Every time I breathed her name, I understood how Valentine had felt when he uttered the famous words about his Silvia in the Shakespeare play, The Two Gentlemen from Verona.

What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence

Her name made me shiver at the sound; she was my love, my everything.

I had already made arrangements with her father. All he could say in reply to my request was “Welcome to the family.”

With her father’s approval, I sent a handwritten letter to her home that morning, asking her to meet me at dusk on the end of Navy Pier. I planned to take her there, spend the evening with her, and as the night drew to a close, I would ask to secure my place as her future husband.

Sylvia was very old fashioned. When she told me she did not want to kiss anyone until she was engaged, I respected her wishes. Actually, I was quite relieved in her decision; it meant that less was expected of me. To be completely honest, I was too frightened to make the move myself. Although I longed to taste her, feel her lips on mine, and breathe in that glorious aroma she seemed to radiate through every room she entered.

I remember the evening we first met; the thirteenth of August, in the year nineteen sixteen. It had been two years to the day since I first laid eyes on her. She was walking along the street corner, when a gust of wind blew her hat off her head and sent it flying down the street. Without even thinking, I ran after it, catching it within moments and setting it gently in her gloved hand. Then I looked up at her.