Writings in the Wall

CHAPTER EIGHT | TWILIGHT ✓

sᴛʀᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴀɪʀ

THE IDEALISM OF A LUCID DREAM IS LIKE THE ESCAPE OF A DAYDREAM WHEN YOU FIRST WAKE UP, THE MORNING OF ANY young person was a lucid dream in fact. The endless escape of every day life, to be an adult and live a life to work until you drop dead. That was a dream one young woman wished to escape. The rays of sunlight appeared under the silk curtains of a woman's bedroom. The pastel blue wells shimmered with the shadows of droplets of rain rolling down the window. The flood of warmth touched her bare skin of her long legs. A cold chill ran down her spine, she tossed under the warm comforter of the blanket.

She felt it before she can see it. A touch traced under her cheekbones, so cold to the flesh. Her pale pallor reddened under the finger tips. She exhaled a long breath, her gut stirred with uneasiness as her eyes fluttered open. Her eyes caught the sight of a blur disappearing beyond the wind leaving the curtains slightly rising from the abrupt rise of a breeze. She blinked away the blurriness in her eyes, her blue green eyes reflected such curiosity. Her mind was a blank space, thousands of thoughts were processing. Helen pulled on a pair of clean underwear and a strapless bra. She pulled on a pair of jean overalls sporting a white long sleeve top underneath as she buckled the straps over her chest in the front of the overalls slipping on sandals.

Helen glanced around the room, it was her room at her fathers house. A frown fell on her face, curiosity pulsating with the beat of her heart when it struck her. Last night's events forged like a punch to the face. Her fingers tingled, she lifted her hand remembering a lock of red hair tangling around her fingers. And then it was gone. She looked down at the clothes on the floor, dirt stained the shorts and shirt she wore. A faded dried hand shape against the sleeve.

Helen picked up the shirt in her hands, examining the shirt tracing over the dirt stain, that was shaped like a hand. Her heart picked up in a beat, adrenaline coursed through her veins. She dropped the shirt to the floor when exiting the bedroom. The floorboards creaked under her steps as she descended down the steps of the stairs.  She heard the soft hushed voices in the living room, she picked up on the sounds of two people, pacing downstairs. Her eyes caught sight of bronze hair, ruffled and ragged looking. The tall lanky form of Edward Cullen's back faced her.

Her face fell, coldness seeped around her cheekbones where she remembered the touch on her face. The color in her face drained when he turned around, his eye were like a look of death. The color of crimson red shined bright, going dark with thirst. Her eyes fell on his face to the blood around his full lips, his mouth open whispering something. But she couldn't hear, her heart begun pounding in her chest. Fear was pulsating throughout her petite body. Her body fell back, weightless and fast. She came colliding a sheer force of a hand against her chest, and a flash of red eyes met hers, then all went black.

DREAMS were a lucid awakening, eyes would flutter at the best and worst part of dreams. But Helen burst away, her heart pounding away when she was met by a fierce look of worry in a man's honey gold eyes peering down at her. A scream nearly escaped her lips when she got a look at his face. "Carlisle" she whispered in shock clutching the blanket draped around her.