The Twilight Saga

 

Preface

 

            To be psychic- it can be a gift or a curse, depending on how you use the ability.  Choosing how to use the ability was easy for me, but controlling it is much harder.

            Sometimes I can control it; I can focus on something, and see what I need to do in order to make everything work out the way I need it to.  Sometimes I can make a “vision” come to me.

            Though most of the time, everything tends to come in a rush.  Appearing in my mind at random times of the day, often showing me things that didn’t matter much in my life.

            I had never been the superhero type, considering I was too short to wear a cape without tripping over the end of it.  But I had to admit; I did look pretty good in a pair of tights.  But over time, I had managed to play the superhero game thanks to the gifts I had been given. 

            Pulling people out of the way of a speeding car before they got hit, squishing a poisonous spider before it bit someone- these were all things I had done before.  I was no superman, not by any means, but the amount of gratitude that always came from the person I had supposedly saved was always enough to make me feel like there was at least a handful of people out there that actually needed me… even though half of them didn’t even know it themselves.

            Life flashes past you so fast you barley have time to watch it for yourself.  With one eye in the future, and one eye in the present walking down the street can be dangerous for me.  It made it hard to watch my own life, since half the time I was seeing it in fast-forward.  It was similar to recording a show on a video camera- you don’t really get to enjoy it, because you’re either watching it on the tiny screen of a camera, or not at all.

            When I wasn’t trying to control the visions, or ignore them, I got a constant stream of the futures of people’s lives.

            For example, sitting in a restaurant, I could clearly see the husbands who would be cheating on their wives at their “late night meeting” later that night.  The waiter who was serving the table next to mine would quit his job in two weeks to pursue a career in singing.  He would eventually make it big.  All this I knew just by turning around to ask for a glass of water.

            It was this same kind of situation that had gotten me into trouble in the first place.  I had been at a simple corner café, admiring the scenery.  I turn back around to take a bite of my apple fritter to see a man sitting in the seat across from me.  Blonde hair, brown eyes, tan, freckles across his nose- typical spoiled type.

            I rolled my eyes and picked up my fritter, taking a bite and hoping he didn’t notice how blank my eyes looked.

            “Do you mind?”

            “I was actually just going to ask you that.”

            “Wow, handsome and good with words.”

            “I try.” I saw him grin.  “Are you okay, you look like you’re having a stroke?”

            “I’m fine.” I murmured.  His future had flashed by so quickly, it was amazing I had seen any of it, but yet I had still caught it all.  His future was frightening, to say the least.  He definitely had a rude awakening coming for him within the next few weeks.  What he had done to deserve such a punishment, I had no idea.  But I had seen it nonetheless.  But I wanted to help him either way; I felt like I needed to. 

            “If you don’t want to look like an idiot I suggest you put a napkin in your lap.” I threw him a napkin, he stared at me as if I were crazy, and unfolded the napkin and placed it on his lap.  As soon as he brought his hands back up to the table, a ditzy redheaded waitress dropped a plate of strawberry pastries onto his lap.  The heavy cotton napkin prevented anything from getting on his pants.  I smiled wryly.  Right again.

            “That was amazing… how did you know that would happen?” he asked after the waitress had apologized a half-dozen times.

            “Maybe you should tell me your name.”

            “Cole.  Cole Escue.”

            “Well Mr. Cole Escue… you’re in for a pretty rude awakening in the next few weeks, maybe it would be best if you just stayed home.”

            “Maybe you should tell me your name.”

            “Gracelyn Fallows.”

            “That’s a pretty unforgettable name.”

            “Well, I’m a pretty unforgettable person.”

 

 

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Replies to This Discussion

love it!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks!(:

okay so loved it

Loved it!!

Hehe. This is amusing :)

Love it!

Post soon!

awesome......... totally loved it can't wait for more..

Okay that good he went to the circus instead of the 'fancy' party...

Oh this chappie is good.. circus, money, kidnappers..Awesome

Can't wait for the next chapter !! amazing !:D
Amazing story
OMG, RACHEL I LOVE IT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
POST MORE SOON PLEASE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
:)
I'll put it on Inkpop when it's finished... I figured I'd get you guys to encourage me to write... and then post it on inkpop when it's finished and get even more readers!(:

2

 

            I lay awake all night tossing and turning over the visions that continued to flash across my eyes, even though my eyes were squeezed shut as tight as they could be.  After Mrs. Escue’s obvious opinion of me, I was very tempted to never come within one hundred miles of their house, but I knew that would be wrong.

            I could help Cole, possibly even save his life if it came down to it.  He was a decent guy; especially decent if you factored in the all too-obvious amount of money he had been raised on.  According to stereotypes, he should be snobby, standoffish, and selfish.  As far as I could tell, he was none of those.

            I punched the pillow underneath my head and groaned, opening my eyes and shoving the visions that had been clouding my head into a figurative filing cabinet in the back of my mind. 

            I threw back the annoyingly heavy covers on my bed and threw my feet over the edge until they hit the floor.  I kicked the stupid glitzy skirt aside after almost tripping over it, doing the same with my shoes, and stumbled my way to the bathroom.

            I resisted the urge to hiss like a vampire as I flicked the lights on, and forced my sandy eyes to stay open a get used to the light.  Since when had I become so anti-social and afraid of the light… so nocturnal?  When was the last time I had gone to a beach?

            Never.  The sarcastic voice in my head spat at me.  But then again, New York didn’t exactly have beaches.  There were sandy places with water nearby, I’ll give you that, but they could hardly be called beaches.  Sharp shards of broken glass and garbage covered half of the sand, not to mention there was only about a week of weather warm enough to even swim

            During that week of warm sunny weather, the beaches were closed off so they could be cleaned… a lot of good that did.

            I was hit with the realization that I was having a conversation with myself about New York beaches, in my head, no less.  I swore under my breath, and splashed my face with water.

            Give it a couple of years, you’ll have tatted up arms, and wandering eyes just like Aunt Sal!  My sarcastic, crude little voice that enjoyed sitting silently all day in the back of my head loved to talk at night.  I often wondered why I couldn’t have a nice conscience, one like Jiminy Cricket off of Pinocchio.  Somehow I had ended up with a conscience that reminded me more of Jigsaw from the Saw movies.

            Wanna play a game, Gracie?

            No Conscience shut up and let me sleep.

            Maybe that was a little too harsh… I guess as far as consciences go, they’re supposed to be judgmental.  Isn’t that the whole reason you have one? 

            Other people probably just don’t have such a harsh conscience like I do…

            I wonder what kind of conscience Cole has… And there it was again.  I heavily resisted the urge to pound my head against the bathroom sink, and walked back into my room.

            For an originally orphaned child, who was now living with her crazy Aunt and a circus crew… at first glance I was very normal looking.

            I dressed the same way every woman in New York dressed when they were out on the town; jeans, sometimes slacks… it didn’t matter to me.  I preferred wearing flats rather than heels; they were so much more comfortable.  T-shirts, flannels, fancy blouses, I had plenty of them all.

            My hair was dirt brown naturally, though I jazzed it up with red tints that made it shiny and have an almost burgundy hue in the sunlight.  My eyes were the only things about my features I actually loved; they were a toned down gold-ish color, with a black-green rim around the outside.  Hundreds of people have asked me if I wear contacts, the answer has always been no, well sort of.  I had developed my father’s near-sightedness and demanded contacts, even at 10 years old the idea of glasses made me cringe.

            I was as pale as a porcelain doll in the winter, and as tan as any girl in Florida could be in the summer.  All I had to do was walk around the city for a day in a tank top to get a perfect tan.

            Nothing special, obviously, the only time I was anything special was when I had on a ridiculous circus costume.  But then again, you could hardly call a prostitute special.  There was yet another reminder; it was like an alarm was set to go off in my head every ten minutes, throwing another reminder of something I wanted to forget at me.

            I slipped on a thick cotton sweatshirt and stumbled sleepily outside for some fresh air.  The night was cold, and unusually quiet for the city of New York; even though the circus site was on the outskirts of the city, it still got pretty noisy.  I saw a light from another trailer flash across the dirt as a door opened and closed.  I sank in on myself, trying to keep from being noticed.  It worked, Roselle walked silently past me, dragging her feet sleepily and limping on her left leg.  I knew first hand how much pressure was forced on your legs during trapeze acts, which was exactly why I had taken Tylenol before I went to bed.

            And I hadn’t done that much sleeping, unfortunately.  I grumbled and hoisted myself off the crate and made my way back to my trailer/humble abode.  I traded the dinky pair of shorts I had on to a pair of leggings, and half sprinted back to the main tent.  I was more than ready to forget about the visions clouding my mind.

 

 

            “You have beautiful form Miss Gracie.  You’d make a good fighter.”

            I stumbled quickly to the end of the wire so I wouldn’t fall and attempted to keep my heart from beating straight out of my chest.  Pankrati had given me a heart attack; he was as bad as Aunt Sal when it came to sneaking up on people.

            “How does walking the tightrope have anything to do with fighting?” I asked with my hand over my heart, making sure it would eventually slow down.

            “Allow me to show you.”  He pulled me out to the center of the ring, where I had performed earlier.  “Clear your mind.”

            “I was in the middle of that-” I pointed behind me, up to the tightrope.  “-But you interrupted me… and scared the hell out of me too.” He stared at me until I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, focusing on the sound of the city far away.

            “You can bring your visions to you, right?”

            “If I focus, sometimes they’ll come to me.”

            “Focus on you’re immediate future, and try to block my blows.”

            “You’re going to hit me?”

            “I’m going to try.  Now close your eyes.” I bit my lip, and did as he asked.  I could hear him circling around me, shuffling his feet in the dirt.  The vision flickered through my head and I almost didn’t have time to react; he was behind me, and he was going for my head. 

            I spun around and grabbed his fist just before it hit my face; I twisted his arm around, causing him to spin.  I kicked the back of his leg, and he fell to his knees.  I laughed.

            “What did I tell you?” he asked, only slightly breathless.  I realized how much the block I had just pulled resembled a routine I had once done on the high wire.

            “You told me to block your blows, and I did.  Now actually try to hit me.” He grinned and shook his head, and stood up. 

            “Blocking is more important than striking in a fight, Gracelyn.  You let you’re opponent get tired, and then you give a final strike.”

            “Then teach me different ways to block.”

            “You’re not ready for it yet.  I’ll teach you when I believe you’re ready.”

            “This isn’t the Karate Kid, Pank come on…” he sighed, and turned around.  “What is it going to take for me to convince you to teach me more?”

            “Why are you so concerned about learning how to fight?”

            “I wasn’t concerned about it until you brought it up.  And you never know when I’ll need it.”

 

 

            I spent the next few weeks learning how to fight with Pankrati.  It was time consuming, and took my mind off of everything else… for a little while.  Then I would remember why I urged Pankrati to teach me how to fight in the first place.  Time was slipping away so fast; not for me, for him.  I had only a few days left until I would set my plan into action.

            I was going to be the creepy stalker.  I was going to show up at the next party his family was throwing (the one they were throwing in two days).  And I was going to convince him to come with me.  If he wouldn’t come… I was going to kidnap him.

            I refused to let him get himself killed.  Because I knew that’s what would happen in the end if he refused help.

            I sighed and continued to punch the punching bag Pankrati had set up for me in an attempt to make me stronger.

            I wasn’t entirely sure why I needed to be stronger… it didn’t make much sense.  I could already take down Pankrati, even on his best day.  But if it gave me more of a fighting shot, especially when it came to saving the life of someone else I was all for it.

            To be honest, I still wasn’t sure why I was doing this in the first place.  There had been opportunities before; things I had seen, things that of course, eventually happened.  They had been beyond me though.  This was beyond me, so why was I still going to try?

            “I think I know why you’re doing this.” Pankrati had announced one day.  “It’s that boy isn’t it?  You said he was in trouble, did you not?”

            “You caught me…” I mumbled sarcastically, turning back around so I could continue to beat the living daylights out of the punching bag.

            “Why does it bother you so much?”

            “Because I feel like there’s something I should do to save him.”

            “Gracie…”

            “What?” I spat, knowing full well what his tone of voice implied.

            “You saw in your vision that he died… did you not?”

            “Yes…”

            “How do you plan on saving him?”

            “The same way I’ve saved everyone else!” I spun around and attempted to kick the punching bag and felt a ripping feeling down the back of my leg.  I collapsed to the ground having no control over my movement at this point.  “Damn it!” I picked up a fistful of dirt and threw it like a child, then let my head fall into my dusty hands.

            “You won’t be doing anyone any good injured.”  He pushed on the back of my leg, noting where I winced.  I tried to stand, to show him that I was fine, but the amount of pain that ripped through my leg when I tried was unbearable.

            “Why can’t I walk?”  I shouted, my words sounded like the beginning of a tantrum.

            “You didn’t break anything.  It’s just a muscle tear.  As soon as we get a brace and some wrappings on it to put pressure on the muscles, you’ll be fine.  Now come on.” He held his arms out to carry me, but I refused and tried to stand up again.  It resulted the same way it had last time, except Pankrati caught me before I could fall this time.

            With every step he took, he jostled my leg.  I tried to hold back my wincing, I really did… but not every wince remained silent.  But I did sit still while he put some pain relieving gel on my leg and wrapped up the sore part- from calf to below my knee- with gauze, and then added a knee brace.  I tested it by moving my leg, bending my knee- it still hurt, but not quite as bad.

            “I’m so stupid…”

            “Yes, you are.” Aunt Sal stood in the doorway with a smirk on her face.  “Especially for thinking that you would be doing things all by yourself.” She made her way into my room with the other members of the team following behind her.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Gracelyn, do you think you’re just going to run this kid around from state to state, hotel to hotel without any help?  Without any of us tagging along for the ride?”

            “Believe it or not, we might be able to help you.”

            “For some reason… I’m pretty sure a huge group of people wouldn’t be helpful in staying discrete…”

            “It could actually help us…”

            “How?”

            “We wouldn’t even have to use disguises!” Roselle shouted, almost excitedly.

            “How?”

            “We could just say… we were a traveling circus.”

            “That’s ridiculous…”

            “That’s using what ya’ got!”

            “Aunt Sal, come on… that’s ridiculous.”

            “If we walked in wearing part of our costumes… it wouldn’t be…”

            “What if someone in the hotel asks for some tickets to see the show?”

            “We tell them it’s sold out.”

            “And what if they realize there’s nowhere in town there could possibly be a circus?”

            “We tell them we’re performing for an elementary school.”

            “What if they ask their kids how the circus went?”

            “We’ll be long gone by the time they even decided to ask.”

            And they had me.  There was no reason why they shouldn’t be going along.  To be honest, I wasn’t even sure why I had wanted them to stay in the first place.  Two young adults running around the country were more suspicious than traveling circuses... that despite how true it was… was just sad.

            “Do I need to pack, or not?”  Rolan asked quietly from the corner.  For being so loud during performances, he was so quiet during the rest of the time he was around us.  “I’m not sure if you can tell, but I actually do have a lot to pack… that is if I need to.”  I looked around the group that had gathered in the tent.  Aunt Sal, Pankrati, Roselle, Rolan, and Abel… they made up my rallying force.  They were the people who would help me keep Cole alive for the next… who knew how long this would last.

            “Fine… pack.  Pack everything you think you’ll need and then some.  If you think it’ll help us with blending in bring it.”

            “How long will we be gone?” Abel asked in his oddly deep voice.  He had always cracked me up… he was as skinny as a bean, but yet he had a voice that would put any country star to shame.

            “I have no idea.”

            “Well how long do we have to pack?”

            “Two days.”

            Two days, then everything would go to hell; I’d be living out of a suitcase, showering with cheap shampoo, having to live with someone I didn’t even know.  Not to mention I could die in the process of trying to save someone else’s life.

            Fantastic.

 

 

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