Saturday, November 21, 2009

The events of a soggy news paper~ Alessandra: Twilight

I sank down on the sofa and stared at the wet, soggy newspaper that the mail man had dropped off on our front door step. The paper was so soggy; I had to dry it out. Luckily, we had a few heaters in the house. Petrus had said that they were necessary; people would talk if we didn’t have certain things, like food, and heaters and toilet paper and other items. I turned the heater on low, and placed the paper a few feet in front of it to dry it out. And then I sat back on the tip of my heals and rocked back and forth on them for a bit.

I needed something to do. Ever since I came to Forks, I found it hard to keep from being bored out of my mind. Sure the coffee visit was fun and meeting Jenna was fine, but other than that and the appointment with Dr. Cullen, my days were long and boring. I closed my eyes and stared down at the paper willing it to be dry so I could read the latest, boring news from Port Angeles. Of course this didn’t work.

Instead, the house suddenly began to shake with the beat of drums coming from the basement. I was sure someone was going to call the police because we were disturbing the silence. I wandered downstairs and found Petrus sitting on a chair in front of the drums bagging happily away. I stared at him for a moment, even with his strong senses; he did not know I was there. I sank back down on the floor, in a cross legged position and listened to him play. He was actually very good, and I surprised myself by wishing I had my Lyre.

I could almost feel the ancient string instrument in my hands. I could feel the strings and see my father’s foyer were I played. I could hear the murmur of his friends while they admired not only my beautiful music but my body as well. My mother’s beautiful soprano voice rang out to my music, and I could nearly taste the freshly brewed wine from my father’s vineyard that was crushed by our slaves. I could feel the warm breezes blowing in from the Mediterranean Sea with whispering voices of the gods. But most of all, I saw my twin brother sitting near me.

“Vestia…” He called my name reaching out for my hand.

“Alessandra?” Came Petrus’ voice suddenly out of nowhere and the vision of my past disappeared. I was suddenly inside the basement of my home in Forks Washington, the wettest place in the USA, I was far from the bright sunny Italian Villa of my visions. Where had that vision and memory come from anyway? Was I so bored and angry that memories were now suddenly coming back to me without my permission? I brushed at the tears that seemed to be at the corners of my eyes. Come on Alessandra, you don’t cry. “Are you alright?” Petrus asked concerned edging his voice as he came down to the floor and lifted my chin. “If I didn’t know any better, you are crying.”

I shot up off the grown, accidentally knocking him to the floor. “I was not crying.” I said anger seething out of my voice. I was not going to be weak. No I was strong. The past was buried deep inside my soul, if I had any left, and no one was ever. I was not going to let Petrus of all people…

“It’s alright to cry. Are you afraid of becoming a human? You can always tell…”

I wasn’t afraid of becoming a human again. No, that wasn’t it. I was not going to tell him what had happened. How Aro had turned my life into a game so he could snatch me up for his treasure chest. No, I was not going to let him inside. The last person I let inside, I had killed. It was because of me that my family had been coldly murdered. I started to leave the room.

“Then what is it?” Was he actually concerned for me? I turned around, to stare quietly into his red eyes. “Alessandra, stop pushing me away. Let me in.” He spoke gently and softly traced my chin. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Let you in?” I asked quietly. “No… I cannot. Besides, it is a very long story. I doubt you would like to hear it.”

“Alessandra, I want to hear it. What else am I going to do today anyway?” Petrus asked me, he sat down on the floor near the wall were I was and gently pulled me down next to him, He wrapped his big strong arms around me. “Nothing is going to hurt you while I am here. You don’t have to be strong and angry all the time you know. Tell me what happened… Please.”

When was the last time I was in the arms of a man? I wondered, softly tracing the cold skin on his arms and looked up into his eyes again. Was I falling in love with this man? No… No I was not. I decided stubbornly and looked down at his hands. I moved out from under his arms, and took a deep breath.

“What do you want to know?”I asked.

“I want to know what happened that made you shut the world out, and hate it so much. It’s almost like you despise life, and therefore, make yourself miserable because of it.” I blinked. He wanted to know my whole life story basically? Well this could take a while, a two thousand year old vampire had a lot to tell in regards to their story. But I wasn’t going to tell it all to him. No, I’d only tell him what he wanted to know. I hugged my knees and looked down at the ground. Try as I might, I just couldn’t tell him what had happened. Not yet. I need to know I could trust him a bit more, before I opened up to him.

Shaking my head I whispered softly, “I’m sorry Petrus. I just cant. Not yet.” I said looking up at him. He sighed and stood up.

“Then what did you want before?” He asked helping me up. Not that he needed too of course.

I smiled now. “I wanted to hear you play. You’re very good.” I stated, and his eyes twinkled.

“Of course I am. I was in a band before I became a vampire.” He muttered the last bit, then shrugged. “ We were heading for the Hollywood hills and out of Italy.”

“I see.” I said having no idea where Hollywood was, or why anyone would want to leave Italy. I never had. Suddenly, I remembered about my wet, soggy news paper. It would be very bad if it caught fire because I left it to close to the heater. “Did you know the Forks is the wettest place on earth and you have to dry your newspaper before you can read it? I better go make sure the paper is dry and not on fire.” I said and dashed up the stairs before Petrus could say another word.

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