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Inspiration

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1. Chapter 1

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Green is everywhere. Green rustles under my feet when I walk. Green slowly claims the bark of the ancient trees of the forest. Green tinges the sunlight. Green colors the small puddle of still water. Green is beautiful.

I inhale in the smell of rotting, damp vegetation. I let my ears take in the trill of hidden crickets. I let my eyes savour the green. The forest is wondrous. It feels like a heavily breathing beast beneath my feet. I raise my eyes towards the patches of sky in the canopy above. When night comes, there will be stars.

I feel things I’ve never felt before. The magic of the forest surrounds me. It invites me. I never want to go back.

I think of who I used to be. I think of how I used to call the city my home. I think of trimmed hedges, plastic plants, metal, brick, concrete .I think of the red-tinged night sky. I think of clouds which were too unhappy to float. I breathe in. I’ve found heaven.

I see color a few trees ahead. I see movement. I see it’s a boy. I see him see me.

Green again. His eyes are green. So defined, so clear. Stunning. He makes his way towards me. Patches of green sunlight make patterns on his face, his rust colored hair.

“You must be Bella.”

“Yes.”

“You just moved to the old farmhouse uphill.”

“Yes.”

“My mother knows your mother.”

“Uh…”

“I’m Edward Masen.”

“Um, Bella Swan.”

“I know.”

“Yes.”

Smile. Like the sun. Warm. Brilliant.

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Edward. Cross legged on the floor. My room. A block of sunlight flits through the window.

“You’re crazy.”

I have to agree.

“Yes.”

“You don’t like chocolate.”

I nod.

“Or music.”

Nod.

“You like to paint.”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

“No.”

“You will.”

“I won’t.”

“Please.”

I huff. He smiles. Eyes crinkle. So lovely.

I reach under the bed. I pull out boxes. Dust motes dance over Edward’s head.

Slender fingers ruffle through sheets of paper. Spread out on the floor. Fingers running over my shabby strokes. A smoking kettle. A sleeping cat. An overgrown pathway. A tree house. A clothesline against the evening sky. A smiling red-headed boy with green eyes and pretty fingers.

He laughs. Delight.Wonder.

My mom calls out his name. “Do you want cookies, Edward?” The son she wishes she had. His mother knows my mother.

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Old oak tree. Sweeping branches. Brilliant sky.

Sketchbook in hand. Pencil repeatedly pausing over paper. Nothing comes up.

Propped up on elbows. Staring at the blank page to keep from staring at him.

He looks up at the branches overhead. He looks back at me.

“Don’t try so hard.”

“I hate blank pages.”

The wind rustles the leaves.

Edward sits up. Bits of dry leaves cling to his hair. He doesn’t brush them away.

He yanks my arm.

“Don’t try so hard.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

Green eyes flecked with brilliant gold. Pale skin colored by the sun.

Hands on my neck. Jolts down my spine.

“Edward.”

“You’re crazy.”

“You keep telling me that.”

“It’s true.”

Exquisite face. So close to mine. Sketchbook on the ground. Pencil rolling free. My fingers on his cheek. Thundering heartbeat.

I kiss him. He follows. Warm. Warmer. Burning.

Lifting. Fying. Soaring. Fingers in his hair.

Dry leaves, sunset ,blank pages and Edward.

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Sky studded with stars. Perfume in the breeze. Nightlamp casting shadows. My pencil perfects his nose. Eyelashes.Lips. There are no blank pages.