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The Falling

In the action itself, she is weightless and free. The flight is not to be feared, only the impact. A story on the life of Esme Cullen. Image Hosted by ImageShack.us Banner By incredible Iris!

I may submit this to the official site. What do you think?

12. Chapter 12

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Golden growing gone…

The next act is somewhat better. Though the action dwindles into tragedy, I am comforted. I make it admirably bravely through the majority of the stories, but when Romeo starts kissing “dead” Juliet… I break down in tears, still unable to tear my eyes away from the stage.

Carlisle pets my shoulder, stroking my back and arm. I am, of course, comforted. I know nothing bad will come of a few tears… it’s only a story and an old one at that.

Somehow, though, the archetype affects particularly today. I am usually smarter than this. Usually I know where fantasy ends and reality begins… but the lines are all blurred.

My lips are still numb and on fire from the kiss, and the idea that I am loved by Carlisle is beginning to change exactly how real life is defined. I am not sure love worth dying for is impossible after all.

No, I’m not exactly vowing undying devotion. I’ve known this man less than a week. I’m merely saying I think I know where such powerful emotions can come from. Though not fully tapped, I have found that place in my soul.

It has consumed the heroine onstage, who blesses the dagger that will bring her to her lover. I am not that girl… not yet. But if I don’t see reason soon, I very well may be. I’m getting a bit too into something that won’t last more than twenty-four more hours. My parents will cart me back away from town, Carlisle will pack up and leave, and I’ll never see him again.

I have to accept that.

Yet I might as well enjoy this temporary passion, this feeling not just worth living for… it teaches one how to live.

I smile then, because I know I have a little more time to enjoy it, and that when he is gone, when I am alone, I will know how to live properly and I can find some other reason for doing it.

I just wish I had some way to take that look of absolute misery off his face.

“A glooming peace this morning with it brings…”

I am not happy I can live without him, yet I know I can. And I need to know to live. I will. I can. That matters, doesn’t it?

The curtain falls, and the audience rises to their feet, clapping and clapping. Of course, I stay in my seat… standing ovations are out for me for some time. Carlisle stands, then sees me sitting and crouches back down. We both applaud extra enthusiastically to make up for our position.

The actors bow and bow. The red curtain covers them one final time.

The instant it is over, the room buzzes with whispers and yells from the other audience members. Carlisle and I remain in our seats, of course, because it’s so hard for me to walk.

“Carlisle, thank you. That was incredible.”

“I’m glad you think so. I enjoyed it too,” he says, and somehow I think he’s not just talking about the show.

Falling shelter…