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Before My Life Began

Edward and Bella have gone to Chicago for their honeymoon. One evening, before they are due to go back to Forks, Edward takes Bella to the site of his parent's grave. Yet something else in that graveyard catches his eye that night...

This idea is totally my own, helped by Stephenie Meyer of course with her wonderful characters. They are not mine, but hers, except for the original characters that appear in this story. THEY ARE MINE: DO NOT TAKE THEM!! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, and please review at the end, I will be very grateful.

1. Darkness

Rating 0/5   Word Count 822   Review this Chapter

I sighed as we trudged down the darkened street, the street lights illuminating patches of the roads and pavement.

“Where on earth could we possibly go now Edward?” I grumbled, shifting my bag from one shoulder to the other. “It’s been two weeks, and you’ve taken me to every single tourist attraction in Chicago.”

Edward was the one who had insisted on taking care of the honeymoon. Of course, I had no say or idea in what he was planning. Counting on being whisked somewhere exotic like Paris, you can imagine my surprise when Edward told me we were to board a plane for Chicago, his home town.

Edward looked down at me, smiling that crooked smile that I loved so much. I felt the anger melt from my bones, trying to fight the urge to kiss his perfect lips.

“I want to show you something, something that is special to me,” he whispered softly. I stared intently at his perfect features. There was something different in the way he spoke…sadness.

Edward tugged on my hand, the one which now had a small gold band plastered to it. “Through here.”

Edward pulled me through the entrance to what was a park. A shiver went up my spine as the sound of traffic slowly died down; the only sounds were the crunching of leaves under our feet in the still night.

As we walked down the gravel path, I drew in my breath. It wasn’t a park we had walked into.

It was a cemetery.

“Are you okay?” Edward asked, stopping to tilt my chin up, so that I was looking at him.

I nodded. “I’m okay,” I whispered. Edward continued to hold my chin, searching my eyes to make sure I was telling the truth. When he was satisfied, he sighed, letting go.

“We are almost there.”

Edward took my hand again, pulling me off the path. We trampled through the weeds that had grown up, my uncoordinated legs getting tangled in the long stems.

Edward waited patiently each time, watching with a faint smile as his new bride tried to yank off the weeds.

We came to a stop in front of two tombstones close to each other. Weeds had grown around them, moss flowing through the cracks. Stems of dead flowers lay spread around the grass, whether or not from a relative or from another grave was a mystery.

I stood by Edward, my hand still clasped in his has I read the first tombstone, the one on the left.

Elizabeth Masen


Loving wife of Edward Masen

Doting mother of Edward Anthony Masen

Edward’s mother. I bobbed down, peering closer at the faded writing on the tombstone. Underneath was some writing.

Unwrap me from this white linen shroud and clothe me
With leaves of jasmine and lilies;
Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest
Upon pillows of orange blossoms.
Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy;
Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress;
Utter no sigh of agony, but draw upon my face with your
Finger the symbol of Love and Joy.
Disturb not the air's tranquility with chanting and requiems,
But let your hearts sing with me the song of Eternal Life;
Mourn me not with apparel of black,
But dress in color and rejoice with me;
Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts; close
Your eyes and you will see me with you forevermore.

I felt a tear fall down my cheek. Edward was by my side in an instant. He said nothing but took my hand and wiped away the tears. I looked at the next one.

E dward Masen


Loving husband of Elizabeth Masen

Cherished father of Edward Masen

I looked at Edward. “Your father has no poem.”

Edward softly chuckled, staring at the grave. “He always hated poetry.”

“Are you okay?” I asked the question he had asked me minutes earlier.

Edward nodded his head.

“After Carlisle changed me, and I went away – remember? I came back to Chicago. I used to come here almost every night and visit my parents…” he trailed off, deep in thought, no doubt.

I stood up as he did, wrapping my arms around his chest. We had planned to make tonight…the night, but all of a sudden I didn’t want to let go of my human life. Not just yet.

“Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” I had thought that we would be there for a while longer yet. Edward nodded his head. He started to move away, but stopped short in front of a tombstone, one that was only metres away from his parents.

“What is it?” I asked. I was beginning to get worried. Not only was it getting late, but Edward was acting strange. Maybe it was not a good idea to come here after all.

“Nothing – don’t worry, love. Let’s go.” Edward broke into one of his smiles again and gently pulled me away from the tombstone.

I moved with him, not before catching a glimpse at the name on the tombstone:

Hannah Katherine Phillips

1902- 1918

A loving daughter,

A beautiful friend

A caring wife with a tragic end.

Missed for eternity.