FEMALE CHARACTER
TWILIGHT FANFICTION
All rights go to Stephanie Meyer.
"she picked and she sewed,
itchings of words,
all across paper,
she thought many were fools,
until she became one herself"
| STORYLINE OF HELEN CLARICE SWAN |
romantic pairing...
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IT COULD HAVE BEEN THE WAY SHE SAW HOW HE LOOKED AT HER, OR THE WAY SHE FELT SAFE IN HIS ARMS TO BE ABLE TO SHARE THE TRUTH, TO tell someone part of her story she hasn't shared with anyone in a long time. She searched time and time, the reasons behind her feelings that stirred in her gut. The hollowed feeling of emptiness that use to fill her heart ceased to exist. The tremor of each pulse her heart thumped in her chest caved each time her eyes met his. Helen Swan knew she was done for, the way she felt when around him.
Helen Swan wasn't in love, no she cared for him, she was starting to feel those feelings. It was all new to her, but she knew she wasn't in love with him. That secured her into feeling more comfortable. She ceased the thing that from her mind, pushing it into the depths of her thoughts as she awoke that very morning in her bed.
The early dim light from the sun perched itself through the cracks in the grey clouds that hung over the Washington state. Peering through the thin line of trees, rays of sunlight pooled across the earth soil. Sprouts of flowers rose from under the looming shadows of the clouds & trees. It ceased the tension among animals that baked in the warmth from the sun.
A breakage through incoming storm that others will face at the end of the day. That morning was a semblance of many dreams that had come to mind. She pulled off the silk sheet and cotton soft blanket off her body. The warmth evaporated into a chill. Her eyes fluttered open finally revealing those blue green depths, she could see tiny little particles around her as the ray of sunlight slowly dispersing from the window.
Shadows fell in the appeal of her room, she ran her fingers over her thigh leaning down slipping on her slippers. The fuzzy pink slippers seeped with warmth as she grabbed her blanket and trailed out into the hallway towards the kitchen. Her eyes blurry for a second, it was the weekend. She didn't have to work say the least.
The dark-haired woman just took out her loaf of bread, she grabbed a knife slicing her two pieces. She opened the fridge door, eyeing the almost empty shelves. She had to go shopping soon, the thought went past her processing mind as she eyeing the eggs as she took them with with cheese and milk.
The old fashioned cheesy eggs and buttered toast.
The Swan tradition every Friday morning. Helen was grateful she landed a three day weekend with the overtime she pulled a few nights ago. She took out her frying pan slapping some butter on the pan watching it sizzle until she cracked her eggs on it. She seasoned them with salt and pepper, sprinkling some cheese over it.
Helen watched it cook waiting for her toast to pop up. The typical ding followed a second later, she spread some butter across the surface. She saw that the eggs were ready and she slid it on her buttered toast slicing the egg open seeing the yolk spread down on the sides. She grabbed a knife and fork, getting a glass of orange juice.
