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

Prophecy - Book 5 of Twilight Saga (Fan Fiction)

Refusing to follow the path laid out for her, Nessie unearths a plot that threatens her very existence. Once again the Olympic Coven must take a stand... but who can they trust? Gripping spin-off in the Twilight Saga Series as Bella and Edward struggle to keep their family together in a desperate bid to survive.

I would love any feedback at all on the Prophecy; something that i have loved writing and want to develop to be as good as it can be!!

6. Chapter 6: Benjamin

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1502   Review this Chapter

Chapter Six: Benjamin

I unearthed some old family photos. There was one of Mary Brandon, looking pretty young but dreadfully old fashioned, with a bleached white blouse tucked in at the waist and drawn together at the top with a sapphire broach. I might have been able to see the light catch the semi precious stone had the photo been kept in better condition, but even so it looked huge and valuable. Perhaps the Brandon’s had money back in the day? I tucked the photo into my bag and headed out to the car.

It took the whole night to clear the southern states, then five tanks of gas and most of the next two days before I crossed mid-America and eventually entered the state of Washington where thick clouds and a flat tire welcomed me like bad eggs.

It was long enough to prepare some opening lines for Mary in the remote event that I actually found her. ‘Hi Mary, I’m Benjamin. Don’t be scared. I know you’re a hundred and thirteen years old, but it’s okay, I have visions too.’ Hmph. I leaned over and grabbed the crumpled map from the foot-well on the passenger side. It had got me as far as Forks but now I was on my own. I started with a couple of gas stations and asked the attendants if they’d heard of a Mary Brandon. No such luck. The grainy photo I had didn’t seem to jog their memories either.

I drove around aimlessly for a bit longer before I saw a shop with some promise.

“Er hi,” I said as I walked into the camping store. A guy in his mid-twenties looked up at me from behind the counter. He drew a smile.

“Can I help?”

I nodded and approached. The shop was deceptively large and not as old fashioned as the front sign had suggested. What a shame. I thought that the ‘since 1942’ sign in the logo would mean that the owners would still be here, some old-timers who might have recognized her picture instantly. Instead I had a young guy who would most probably laugh at the grainy picture in my hands.

“This is a family business isn’t it? Is your father in?” I asked. It sounded patronising, seeing as he was probably older than me.

“Out back. Do you know him?” He studied me for a moment.

“I was hoping to ask him a couple of questions. I’m trying to track down a long lost relative.”

He didn’t seem to care and turned away from me down an aisle of tents and past some oil filled lamps. He turned at the end and opened a set of double doors that led to a storeroom full of boxes.

“I’ll just be a moment,” he said and disappeared from sight. I weighed up the sleeping bags as I waited. They were all so thick, it must get really cold here at night. A few minutes passed and I was already starting to feel foolish. I’d come all this way and was just going to ask everyone I met about Mary. Tenacity was one of my strong points, but even so, I was pushing it.

“How can I be of service?” A thick-set man said as he walked through the double doors. This must be the father. He wasn’t really as old as I’d hoped but I showed him the photo nonetheless.

“This is a long lost relative of mine. Mary Brandon. I’m trying to track her down. I believe she moved to Forks a while back, and I was hoping someone might of recognized her and point me in the right direction.” I lost eye contact with him mid-way through my speech. Like the others before him, he wouldn’t know her, it was written all over his face.

“This sure is old,” he said, taking the photo into his hands. It was old and worn and now grubby from his dusty fingers. Why didn’t I think to make a couple of copies? “You any idea how old she’d be now?”

If the creepy fella in the asylum was correct then not a day older than the photo. Without realizing it, I’d twisted the corners of my mouth. “It’s kind of difficult to gauge. The photo’s really poor quality, but not so old.”

He didn’t look convinced but turned to where his son loitered in the aisle. “Well I guess you’d know better than me, Mike. She looks half my age.”

“Oh, no, I’d have thought she was still older than you,” I said, quickly, reaching for the photo before he passed it on to the younger guy. “Sorry to have troubled you.”

“No, I’ll take a look,” Mike said, enthusiastically. Before I’d had a chance to put the photograph away, he was by my side, peering in at Mary’s face. Something pulled him in closer.

“What did you say her name was again?” He leaned in, squinting at it.

“Mary, Mary Brandon.”

“I don’t know any Mary, but this girl went to my school, only she’s changed a bit. She’s done herself up since this photo was taken. Must be better make up or something… hey is this fancy dress?”

I didn’t answer.

He continued looking at her face. “And she’s not called Mary Brandon either. Her name is Alice Cullen.

“I knew they were weird,” he continued. “I bet they were hiding out here. Maybe they were on some kind of witness protection programme. That would explain why they kept to themselves you know, never let anyone in. Well apart from B—.”

He looked back at the picture holding it right in front of his nose. “That must be why Dr Cullen adopted them…” He suddenly went quiet and looked up at me suspiciously. “Who did you say you were again?”

“Benjamin Brandon. A relation?” I paused, watching him weigh me up in a slightly unnerving way. He handed the photo back and stepped back a pace from me. “Do you know where she lives?” I pushed.

“Did live,” he replied, though his voice was more guarded. “They’re long gone.”

“Who’s they – are there others that were adopted?”

A bell at the front desk chimed. I looked up to see a couple of teenage boys walk in. Mike looked strained. “Sorry I can’t be of any more help,” he said, and started to make his way to the front of the store. “Hi fella’s, can I help you today?” He said to them. I left his father and caught up with Mike.

“Can you give me an address?” I furthered.

He turned, slightly perplexed. “Dr and Mrs Cullen are good people. I’m sure they won’t want unexpected visitors at their door.”

“No, I won’t bug them, I promise. But they might be able to help me? I’ve come all this way, and you’ve been such a help already…”

He studied me, the desperation leaking through my skin in beads of sweat.

“She’s family. I just need to meet her,” I added.

He looked unconvinced. “I don’t know, man. If she’d wanted to meet you, wouldn’t she have sought you out already?”

She wouldn’t even know I existed.

“You know, if they’re really in some witness protection program, then I shouldn’t have even spoken,” he continued.

I was about to respond but he was again distracted by the two kids who had walked in,

“Hey, do you sell camping stoves?” The kid said. It stole Mike’s attention from me.

“Er, yep, I’ll be right over.”

Mike turned to me. “I’m sorry I can’t help,” he added and walked off.

I looked round to where his father had been standing but the space between the tents was now vacant. It was so much more infuriating to know that this Mike could help me but wouldn’t. Reluctantly, I put the photo away and made for the door.

Great. No luck there either. I was resigning myself to a night in a motel with no leads whatsoever. I’d come all this way, on my own, for nothing.

I debated what I would say to my parents when I plucked up enough courage to pick up the phone to them. I’d fobbed them off with text messages for three days, but there was only so long until I would have to tell them the truth, and then I guessed they’d go nuts.

I passed a wall of photos to the right of the main door as I left. There were about twelve photos in total, all tacked to the wall. One was of this guy, Mike, smiling with braces on his teeth. It was framed in one of those brown cardboard mounts with gold colored edging. Beneath the photograph was some lettering. I took a moment to read it. ‘Michael Newton’ it said, and beneath it, ‘Forks High School 2007’.

I rolled my Mary photo and my map up in my hands and made for the door. Forks High School here I come.