After meeting Jacob Black, I didn't think anything could go wrong. I soon found out that I was sadly mistaking.
The Prologue is portrayed in Jacob's POV, however the rest of the story will be in the OC's point of view. xxx Jacob/OC
2. Chapter 01: Maroon Bells
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I couldn’t stand the lack luster of Gunnison, especially not with my final grade for this semester on the line. That’s why I wandered here, the point where Gunnison and Pitkin meet, part of the Elk Mountains, Maroon Bells.
It was a gorgeous spot, and the most photographed spot here in Colorado. It also happened to be one of my favorite subjects. There was something magical about this place, and I loved the aura of it.
It was majestic and beautiful.
I could honestly spend all day here, and I usually did.
I tried to capture as much of the beauty as I could. The way the light reflected off of the mountain tops, the deep valley that ran between the North and South peaks, and the amazing lake that sits at the foot of the obese range of rocks.
It could never get old.
I raised my camera to my face, peering through the viewfinder for a brief second, and then began to click away fiercely. Point and shoot was the game here, it was my usual way of capturing a grade worthy, memorable shot.
I didn’t pay much attention to what I was shooting, it didn’t matter. Everything within sight was worth snapping and printing. I could always count on Maroon Bells to get me my winning shot.
Though, on occasion, I could get a few great shots at one of the parks in Gunnison. But then I’d rob myself of the beauty of Maroon Bells. Why would I do that?
The way the plains leveled out neatly until they reached the roll of the mountains was simply beautiful. There was nothing more beautiful than nature that I’m sure of. I snapped a few more shots on the black and white film and quickly changed it out.
The sun set carefully over the water offering a few spectacular shots. I was well on my way through the next roll of film. The colors danced and I was glad that I had switched from black and white film to color for this roll.
Emptying the last roll was an easy task. I let my finger and artistic senses do the rest.
Photography had always been my passion. I grew up with a camera in hand, taking pictures of everything that stepped in my path. And if I wasn’t taking pictures, I was admiring them.
Or enhancing them.
Digital art, a very close second. I had tried my hand in actual art, but my hands didn’t care much for drawing or painting, instead I found my calling in manipulating and enhancing pictures. It started off as a simple hobby in middle school and grew in to something more over time.
I believed I had found my calling, or at least I thought I had; that I wasn’t so sure of.
I took a seat at the mouth of the lake and watched the sun go down. I glanced down at my watch and sighed, if I wanted to get my film to Lo’s before closing I had to get a move on.
I pulled myself off of my backside and headed up to the clearing where I parked my ancient Honda Civic. I wasn’t much for cars, but it got me from point A to point B. I couldn’t complain about that.
It was a short trip in to town. I stopped at Lo’s, I had been going here for three years to get my film developed, I could have spent less money and gone to your basic Walgreens or CVS, but I liked the way she did things, and I didn’t mind spending a little extra cash.
Lo was a sweet lady, she was probably my father’s age and I found something homey about her little shop. Not many people came here, but she did all of this for fun. Her parents were big in the stock market and apparently they were loaded, some people have all the luck.
I dropped my film off; Lo promised that it’d be done by tomorrow morning. Pleased I left and headed to my father’s house. I was sure I’d have a message waiting for me by the time I got home from my mother. She always hated it when I left my cell phone in my car.
I parked my car outside of the old ranch style house and grabbed my things, including my dead cell phone. I shoved it in my pocket and headed inside, hoping that my dad had some leftovers in the fridge, my stomach was growling.
“Mols, is that you?” His voice rang in my ears as soon as I stepped through the threshold.
“Yeah, Pops, it’s me…” I bellowed back hanging up my jacket before entering the house.
“Your mother called,”
I groaned, though I knew it was coming, I let myself fall next to his tall, lean frame on the couch. He glanced over at me a small grin on his face.
I think he enjoyed the fact that I didn’t like spending hours on the phone with my mother. He enjoyed that I wasn’t one of those girls who spent every waking minute on the phone, or doing her hair. I’d much rather be outside doing something recreational or hanging out with my old man.
“Why are you ignoring Julia this time?”
I rolled my eyes, “She’s going to want me to come visit her, since summer break is coming up…”
“It’d do you some good, kid…”
I glared at the man. I covered my face with my arms, childish as it was, I didn’t really care. He knew I hated going back home, Port Angeles was a miserable city where all it ever did was rain, or snow.
I hate rain.
“Seriously, your mother misses you,”
“She misses her own personal Barbie doll,” I groaned letting my hands fall dramatically to my sides.
He chuckled and shook his head. Sometimes I wonder how a man like my father could marry a woman like my mother. They were polar opposites, two totally different ends of the spectrum. But, I suppose what they say is true, opposites attract.
Apparently, no one informed my parents that they also repel.
“Go call her, the quicker you get it done with the quicker you can down the cold pizza in the fridge.”
I grinned at my father; he knew how to butter me up. I gave him a hard slap on the thigh before pushing myself off of the couch and headed up to my room. I hurried up the stairs, grabbing my cordless phone I dialed the all-too-familiar number and waited for my mother to answer.
She picked up on the second ring, and immediately I regretted calling her. I groaned quietly and tried to put on my happy face while talking to her. How one person could be so happy, even though she was alone, was beyond me.
After talking about everything imaginable I remembered exactly what I despised talking to my mother. She was a walking chatter box. She told me about the weather, she told me about the news, she told me about everything that happened on the Olympian Peninsula, and maybe even in Alaska.
I don’t know it all started to mesh together.
I hate talking on the phone.
“Mom,” I paused and thought of an excuse to get off. “I’ve got another call coming in…” She liked to know that I had some kind of social life, and I used it against her. “I think it might be Rory, I’ll call you later, ok?”
It was a lie, but I don’t think I can stand another minute of her useless babbling.
“Oh, ok sweetie, tell her I said hello…” I nodded as if she could see me. “I’ll talk to you later, I love you…”
Without another word I hung up the phone, lying back in to my pillows. I was exhausted; talking to my mom was like an Olympic event.