Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        

The Falling

Summary:
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!


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


9. Chapter 9

Rating 5/5   Word Count 546   Review this Chapter

Walk along ground,

He is exceptionally beautiful in the tuxedo he wears, very neat in pitch-black clothes, golden and perfect.

He smiles just at me. “Esme. You look so beautiful.”

I blush for the hundredth time. In most women, the excessive flush is a fawning affectation I despise, yet I cannot seem to keep blood out of my cheeks around Carlisle. “You, also, look very nice.” Is that acceptable to say? Why am I suddenly so anxious?

“Thank you. May I?” He offers me his arm. I take it, of course… I can’t walk on my own. His skin is frigid even through the cloth, enough that my hand shakes a bit. I stand, agonizingly, and he steadies my arm on his.

I look into his eyes in gratitude- a mistake. A brief moment passes between us. I’m not sure exactly what it is, but a shiver runs down my spine.

I see his lips frame silent words. It could almost be my name.

“Carlisle,” I whisper. He turns toward me and leans his head inward. The distance between our faces closes. I cannot move or even think, so locked am I in the trajectory of his eyes. His lips are close to mine- I can feel cool breath blowing in my face. He smells sweet- wonderful, in fact.

Abruptly, he jerks away from me, and I look down in disappointment. What happened? Had he intended to… to kiss me? Why didn’t he?

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, and I am about to reply when the nurse walks in. Perhaps he heard her approach. Maybe at the theater…

I am somewhat ashamed to think so lewdly. This is far from maidenly behavior, and yet I cannot bring myself to care when I look at him.

I walk very carefully, putting the weight of my body on my left leg and Carlisle’s arm. He carries it without any sign of distress, so I don’t worry the break at all. There is an automobile waiting. I stare at it. I have never seen one before.

“I thought you might not want to walk the whole way,” he says, and I laugh. “What is it?”

“It’s just that for most people, an automobile isn’t exactly the solution to being unable to walk.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to ask you to ride a horse. You might muss your pretty dress.”

I smile and straighten said garment. He carefully guides me into the Victoria Coupe, offering an arm so that I can swing my immobile leg without putting pressure on it- climbing into an automobile can be tricky at the best of times, as the seat is four feet from the ground.

He closes the door with exaggerated gentleness and walks around the car. The engine roars to life, and we’re off.

I can hardly contain my delight. I am riding in an automobile to a theater with a ludicrously handsome man. It belongs in a storybook, not in my mundane life.

The streets are rickety and bumpy, and pedestrians glare as we rumble past them, but I am far too embroiled in delight to care.

A fall safe and sound…