Background on this one-shot fan fiction:
Many of you have read TwiHigh’s hysterical parody: Mindreading the Mindreader. But how many of you knew she was also an accomplished piano player and even composes her own songs sometimes? Well, neither did I. . . until today!
In one of our many side-bar conversations, TwiHigh brought up an idea she had for an All-Human Edward/Bella story where he is mute and she is blind. At first I didn’t see the draw for such a story. It seemed a bit depressing, but the longer I thought about it, the more it grew on me. In Twilight, the love that grows between Edward and Bella catches our hearts because it seems so IMPOSSIBLE to begin with. They are from different worlds and the mythical and the real are not supposed to be intermixed. The challenges they face, and overcome, set their story above so many others. They are truly the Romeo and Juliet of our time.
TwiHigh’s characters face a different kind of challenge, but their love seems just as impossible. How can a mute boy and a blind girl communicate? Their love will accept no setbacks and it knows no boundaries. Despite their handicaps, they find a way. And the journey they take to know and love one another is sweet, tender, and edifying.
I was so inspired by our discussion that this scene popped into my head and I just had to write it. TwiHigh knocked my socks off when she replied a few days later with this original composition. Together? Grab a box of Kleenex.
Meeting TwiHigh and working with her on this and other ideas is truly one of the joys that I never expected when I started writing fan fiction. I have met so many incredible people on TTS, gncore.net, and freedomfanficwriters.ning and I am involved in so many projects that I sometimes have to step back and pinch myself to make sure it’s all real. And yeah, it is. Wow.
(Play attached MP3)
Climbing the steps to Edward's house should have been frightening. I had no reference for where to put my feet. No memory of the sounds of the wind in the trees behind me or the feel of the rough stone walkway beneath my feet. I was walking through the blackness with nothing to guide me except the two hands that clasped my left hand and elbow to draw me forward.
I should have been afraid, but I wasn't. His grip was steady and confident as he lifted my hand to indicate the first step, and he squeezed my palm three times so I could count the steps off to myself. His hand left mine and I heard the jingle of his keychain and the scrape of metal on metal as he unlocked the door. When the door opened, the first thing I felt was a warm wave of sweet scented air. A hint of apples and cinnamon made my mouth water. This was not the fake scent of candles and heated oils. . . The buttery richness of home-made pie crust is impossible to simulate. Esme was making apple pie for dessert. I looked up to where I felt his face would be and waited with a tentative smile.
He reclaimed my hand, pressed a kiss to my knuckles and led me over the threshold.
“Edward, Bella! I’m sorry I can’t step away from the stove right now, but we’ll be eating in about 30 minutes. Carlisle got called back to the hospital. He is going to be a little late, so it’s just us for now, okay?” Esme’s voice was so warm and affectionate. Everything about her was comforting. I could see why Edward adored his mother so much.
“Thank you, Esme,” I replied facing her direction. “That smells wonderful, I can’t wait!” My stomach was anticipating dessert already. I felt Edward’s hands leave me and I knew he was signing something to his mother.
“Edward says he wants to play something for you while you wait.”
I could feel Edward’s eyes on me, waiting expectantly. He seemed tense and excited about something. Blushing, I nodded assent. His hand reclaimed mine and he led me to the right. The hardwood floors were warm and solid under my feet.
Edward helped me sit on the narrow piano bench. He sat down next to me and the bench creaked. My stomach muscles tightened in response; I did not feel entirely secure on the tiny bench. But my feelings of insecurity vanished when Edward struck the first chord.
The music that sprang forth from the grand piano was more sensual, more alive, than anything I had ever heard. The soaring melody and plunging arpeggios evoked feelings and emotions that I could not even identify. They encompassed all the joy of a warm embrace, the comfort of a favorite chair, the hope of new love and the vibrant energy of a spring morning. My eyes brimmed with moisture, but I made no attempt to wipe away the tears that slowly trickled down my cheeks. As the melody drew down to a wistful end, I raised my face to Edward's. His warm hands framed my face and he gently wiped away my tears with his thumbs.
It was then that I realized how much of life I was missing without my sight. I did not know the color of his eyes. I knew the texture of his hair, running through my fingers, but I could not see the sunlight glinting from it, or appreciate the way it fell across his forehead when he looked down thoughtfully. I would never know the curve of his lips, or the expressions that crossed his face as he looked at me.
Never before had I felt my loss so deeply. My throat closed off and I could barely breathe. Seeing my obvious distress, Edward pulled me from the piano bench and led me to stand before an open window. The warmth of the setting sun was full on my face and a fresh evening breeze carried with it the rich earthy smell of the forest. He squeezed my shoulder and then I heard his steps as he walked quickly back toward the kitchen.
Esme's voice, sweet and mellow, spoke then. "You want me to read this to her? Okay, Edward."
Two sets of footsteps returned and I felt Edward behind my right shoulder. He took my hand in his and leaned his cheek against mine. The faint scratchiness of his whiskers bore a sharp contrast to the silkiness of his lips as they caressed my cheek.
"Bella, Edward wants me to tell you. . . I want to show you the sunset."
Esme's voice wavered slightly. She was confused by Edward's statement.
Edward put firm pressure on both of my shoulders, telling me to stand in this spot. The familiar creak of the piano stool was the only warning I received. A new melody floated through the room. It spoke of warmth, and beauty, but there was a slightly melancholy turn to the harmony. A wistfulness that sang of endings. Not regret, but a drawing down and a closeness that was intimate and haunting and slow.
He played on for several minutes. As the notes grew softer and more drawn out, I felt the air around me cooling. The sun was dipping below the trees, coloring the skies with shades and hues of colors that I would never see or be able to speak of. But Edward was illustrating them for me. Sharing how the setting sun made him feel.
For the second time I felt myself crying, but there was no strain in my throat or tightness in my chest. Edward was showing me the sunset. And it was breathtaking.