Monday, February 8, 2010

Visiting an Art Shop~ Alessandra Twilight

Music blared from the radio in my car. I didn’t recognize the song. American music was so foreign to me. It was some song from what was it they said? The Eighties? I tried not to think about the eighties. They meant nothing to me not even as a human. Though I supposed that as a human I wouldn’t remember the eighties either way. I would have been bored in the nineties. I laughed at the thought of being born in the nineties. What would that have done to my parents? Or would my parents be the great something ancestors of my birth parents? That was confusing. I turned down a road, trying to focus on my mission at hand. I Alessandra de Sismondi was going to buy a new artist set. If only I had thought of bringing mine from Volterra. There were several things I wished I had now with me that were in Volterra and I made a mental note to have Petrus fetch them for me. Besides it would be good to have Aro see Petrus so that Aro wouldn’t suspect anything. Or rather that I was human.

N. Forks Ave finally came to view and the eighties song seemed to be nearly done thank the Gods! What was the name of that shop? Oh yes it was Brookshaw Art Shop. I found it easily enough. It was hard to get lost in Forks. I parked the car, locked it. I had no idea why I locked my car. Forks was such a small town I doubted anyone would steal it, and then I opened the door to the shop and closed it behind me.

A song that sounded much like the one I had just listened too on the radio was blaring over head and it sounded as if someone was singing along with the music. Not like I of course had ever done that. I blushed at the memory of being drunk. Poor Carlisle to have to see me in such a state. I was sure he would never look at me again the same way after that.

Trying not to disturb the woman who was singing from some back room, I wandered around the shop, picking up different items here and there.

Eventually, the singing stopped, though the music kept playing. I was browsing my way along an aisle full of paintbrushes of every possible size, shape and material when a woman popped up in front of me, apparently from nowhere. She had a loud-patterned dress on that reminded me of the 1940s, though it clashed magnificently with her violet tights and red shoes. A silk flower was arranged amidst the dark curls of her hair, and she smiled at me broadly.

“Looking for something in particular?” she asked.

Not used to being snuck up on. I dropped the paint brush I was holding. In a normal situation like this I would have let the object float back up to me. However strange this woman appeared to be, I didn’t think she would appreciate such a scene in her store. At least I thought the store was her store. And she clearly needed a major make over. Those tights and shoes were horrid! I bent down to pick the paint brush up. Oh being human sucked if I was a vampire, I would have just eaten her for lunch instead of trying to befriend her.

“ You see, I recently moved from Italy and I lost my art set on the way somehow… I need to create a new one and I thought a fresh set of art lessons would be fun too.” I lied.

“Art lessons?” she repeated. “You’d like to take art lessons?”

“Well...” I trailed off, uncertain, while the woman looked at me. After a few seconds, her eyes lit up, as though in recognition. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, and blinked out whatever thoughts were in her mind.

“I’m...sorry,” she explained, rubbing her forehead in confusion. “I was sure for a moment I knew you from somewhere. But no, it’s not possible.” She paused. “But back to art lessons. I’m thinking of starting up classes for intermediate and experienced artists...a few of my customers have been asking about them.”

“Oh art lessons for intermediate and experienced artist would be perfect. I was, to be honest, dreading taking beginning art lessons. But I wanted to… To have the experience” I stammered out. “ I never had much of an experience at taking art lessons. I was born with a paint brush in my hand.” This was true. The slave woman who nursed me taught me art. And Aro just helped that talent along a little bit. That was one thing I had to thank him for. I shuddered at the thought. No, Aro didn’t help my talent along. I would simply tell myself that. “In Volterra, its hard not to want to paint what is in front of you.” I said. For my city was a beautiful city with a lush and rolling landscape.

“Volterra?” she repeated. There was a strange look in her eyes again. “Yes – yes I’ve been there. I worked with an art dealership for a few years, and I was involved in some transactions with clients based in Volterra.”

“Ah, then you’ve been to Italy. I must admit I find Forks a bit boring after Volterra.” I said and then noticed the time. “Anyway, I should… I should go. What time are those art lessons?” I asked.

“Tuesdays, 2 pm. Here, I’ll write down the address for you.” She scuttled off, and came back in a few seconds with a small scrap of paper with an address written on it:

The Abbey

251 Sportsman Club Road, Forks

“Oh, and my name’s Abbie. Abbie Brookshaw.”

I smiled brightly at Abbie. Perhaps I was going to meet a kindred spirit in the woman and make my first friend in Forks. Unless Carlisle counted but I wasn’t sure if he did count as a friend. I had ruined that. “ Thanks, I can’t wait for them. My name is Alessandra de Sismondi.” I replied.

(Written with Abbie who hasnt joined the novel quiet yet)

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