The Twilight saga: Predawn
"So, what do you think?" Bella asked, holding up the newspaper to show it to her friend. It read as follows:
17-year-old, looking for muscular man(?), must be pretty, extremely pale, must have a fetish for glitter, whisper throatily when he(?) talks.
IMPORTANT: Must be overly sensitive to my mood swings.
"Yeah, seems about perfect," her friend replied.
Ever since she broke up with her last boyfriend, Bella had been craving for another pair of womanly arms to embrace her. She remembered how Jacob used to read to her before she went to sleep, hanging on to the railing of her window with one hand, and her favourite book, "10 Ways To Keep Your Man Happy." But, as time passed, she started to notice things she had never noticed before about him.
Before, when Jacob used to howl every time there was a full moon, she had thought it was just one of his phases. Every guy thinks he's a werewolf for a while when he's a teenager, right? But the howlings continued, and soon there were other things she started to notice: how every inch of his body was covered with hair, his fangs, the blood dripping from his mouth. How could she have been so stupid?
"well, your IQ's kind of low." Her friend's voice interrupts from somewhere.
"Yes, you were thinking out loud."
"Damnit. Why do I keep doing that?"
"89 to be exact."
"Yes, we get the point!" Bella snapped back at her friend and ran off to class.
As she ran, panicked that she'd miss her "Desperate Bachelorettes" class, she bumped into something or someone, a shadow of glittery white which knocked her breath out. She was about to pick stoop down to pick up her books, when she was struck by the sight of the most beautiful man (?) she had ever seen. She stared at him, as he picked up her books, and handed them to her, her jaw flung open by this sight of shallow beauty.
"Sorry about that. I'm Edward." he said, all throary whisper, and glitter and pale and pretty. She was irrevocably in love with him.
"Why are you so glittery and pale?" she asked, her eyes round as the moon Jacob used to howl to.
"Accident at Home Ec class." He whispered back.
"Sorry? Didn't get that."
"Accident at Home Ec class." He whispered again.
"Sorry, you're talking to quietly. Speak up."
"Accident! Home Ec! Class!"
"Oh, you have Home Ec? How come I never noticed you there before? There are only girls there."
"I was going through my pretending-to-be-a-woman phase."
"Ah." Pretending? She didn't quite understand. But she didn't care; she was in love.
After that, they would walk to class every day and they would talk all day on the phone when they weren't at school. The phone bills were enormous, but she didn't care. They were in a lot of debt anyways, a few thousand bucks wouldn't matter.
One night, while baking a fruitcake during Home Ec, she cut her finger and she bled. She saw as his eyes fell on the blood seeping out from under her skin, and his breaths got shorter. Without saying a word, he left her, storming out into the day, God knew where.
"I'm going to the lunch room."
She saw him leave, but she had seen how fast he could run. She went to the window, and jumped out, hoping to catch up to him this way. It would prove useful as a shortcut.
She forgot her class was on the third floor.
She regained her consciousness, waking up to someone's heavy breathing, and glitter in her mouth. As she opened her eyes, coughing out the glitter, and her sense of awareness returned, she could feel someone nuzzled up against her neck. She immediately leapt up, leaving her assailant reeling back. It was Edward.
"What the hell are you doing?" she screamed.
"Er, isn't that one of the techniques to waking people up?" he replied, his eyes twinkling with secrets untold.
She moved closer to him. Her eyes watered, and she turned away from him and faced her school building. "What are you not telling me, Edward?" she whispered to him, soft, delicate.
"Er, what? Could you turn this way please? It's hard to understand what you're saying when I can't see your face."
"Geez! Forgive me for adding some dramatic effect!" She turned around. "What are you not telling me?" she repeated.
"Bella, you might not believe this but…" he paused. "I'm a vampire."
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
"That's so hot." She said, almost drooling.
Edward smiled. "I knew you were the one for me. Who else would be shallow enough to get me?" They were about to embrace, when a familiar voice interrupted them. It was Jacob.
"Jacob, what are you doing here?" Bella asked.
Jacob took of his shirt and pointed at the muscles on his abdomen. "Come back to me, Bella. You know I'm hotter."
Bella didn't know what to do. They were both equally hot, just in different ways. This was too much for her to handle.
"I'm sorry. I can't choose." Her last words, as she ran to detention (for inappropriate behaviour with a teacher), her superficial heart beating away.
By S. N. Rasul
Only to some..
THE wind seemed exceptionally chilly. Though he had a hoody on, the bare skin that was exposed was all numb and goosebumps were visible on his arms. Yet he didn't stop. The cars honking around him and the vendors shouting on the top of their lungs...all this didn't make any difference. Everyone was in a festive mood due to one of the biggest upcoming festival of the calendar. And yet he was oblivious about it. He walked on.
He was never good at hiding his emotions, and this was no exception. His eyes were moist and although he used his sleeves frequently to wipe them dry, we were moist again. No one heard him sniffing, or biting his lower lip, as he fought hard to keep back his tears. No one noticed his chin quiver, or his back hunched, as he marched to his destination home. But he was deliberately walking at a slower pace than usual. No one was waiting for him there. No one ever did. So he was in no hurry, he took his time.
He had this nostalgic feeling whenever he thought of her. He didn't know her properly, but his sole existence was proof that she was once there. And she would have been there for him. But she wasn't. Her friends and relatives told him that he looked exactly like her, same eyes, same straight hair, same upright nose... They never grew tired of commenting, and he never grew tired of listening. But it didn't hurt him like it hurt year ago. It was much better now. But she could have been here, no doubt. Unfortunately, she was not.
As he walked faster, his breathing grew heavier and he felt a stinging pain on the left side of his chest. He let out a deep breadth, and the heavy feeling on his chest grew a bit lighter. He knew that he was late for home, but it didn't matter to him now. To everyone he was a full grown teenager, ready on the doorsteps of manhood. But if anyone saw him now, shoulders hunched, a tear or two dripping from either the bridge of his nose or chin, and occasionally wiping his eyes with his sleeves, he didn't seem any older than the small boy, who lost his mother and sobbing on the hospital bench.
He had an extra set of keys with him, so he didn't bother ringing the bell. Kicking off his shoes, he entered his room, and threw his bag aside. As he splashed some water on his face, the tear strains were washed away with the cool water. No one would notice them anymore. Wiping his face with a towel, he sat at his table, and placed his chin on his arms and closed his eyes. The door creaked softly as someone entered, but he didn't bother to open his eyes to check. The soft whiff of perfume the visitor brought seemed familiar but he didn't bother to think of its source. He felt her stand beside him and place a hand gently on his head and say, 'It's alright now, babu! I will always be here for you.' He knew that she will. So will his mother.
By The Dark Lord
By Wasif A. Choudhury
I kept gazing back to the far corner of the room where she was sitting. The only other time she had lifted her head was when the waiter came to hand her the bill. Just then she stood up walking straight towards me, handed me the paper and said, “It's the price you have to pay for staring so long”.
By Fardin Humayun
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