Okay! Here's my latest creation - Alice's POV of a six part story - "The Eye Of The Storm". Here are the authors doing the other points of view:
Eevy Angel writing Rosalie.
Sierra Echo Bravo writing Emmett.
Luvvampluvdog writing Edward.
CarribbeanLady writing Bella.
book2romantic writing Jasper
Shaps writing Alice
So if you want to go find their characters' stories, go right on ahead!
Mary Alice Brandon
I had known I would find him. I always knew. That was the problem, though.
Ever since I was little, I would always blank out and see things that weren't yet there. Pre-school teachers convinced my parents that they were just the products of an overly active imagination – but I knew better. And I also knew they weren't going to go away, these "visions". So instead of persisting that I was right and they were wrong, I allowed them to believe that my mind was perfectly clean and blank most of the time – when it was really so full of colour and bright pictures that sometimes it scared me.
And I knew that they wouldn't allow themselves to believe me, not now, not ever. No matter how many times I predicted the T.V. sitcoms, the weather, and the home-arrival of my father from the office… My parents were far too normal for someone like me to be acknowledged. It was like living with Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and I was Harry Potter.
So it didn't surprise me that as I was typing my paper on The Taming of the Shrew for drama class on a boring Saturday morning, I was suddenly seeing something completely different to the dull computer screen in front of me.
It was a map of the world, zooming down on my home in Pine Grove. It then zoomed back out, and followed a pattern along the roads, leading me toward the ocean. A moment later I was shown Morehead City, then its interlacing streets, until a few simple turns were made and I was at a restaurant. 'Bistro By The Sea'. I remained outside for a moment before I saw the most beautiful sight my well-travelled eyes have ever seen.
A boy was there, lingering just across the road. The dampened road in front of him reflected his image blurrily, and there were drops of moisture clinging to his cheeks. He looked like a model in a casual-clothing commercial. It wasn't raining, despite the evidence that it had been recently. He seemed to be deciding whether to go in or not, but then his weight fell forward onto his quick feet and he crossed the road and entered the building in a moment. I was left outside, figuratively gaping at my vision, before being wrenched back into reality.
I blinked for a few seconds, reorganising my thoughts. The computer hummed quietly on the desk, my fingers frozen on the keyboard. I blinked again.
Who was that guy?
My arms loosened; my wrists relaxing and fingers pushing down on the keys. A string of jumbled letters appeared on a sentence I'd not finished writing.
Normally, my visions were nothing more than slight glimpses of the future; snippets of things that may or may not happen according to the decisions associated with them. I'd never, in my seventeen years of life and fifteen years of memorable mental pictures, seen something so specific. Clearly, I was being given directions. And I was determined to go.
I pulled my hands back and pushed myself away from the computer desk, the chair wheels whirring across the floorboards of my bedroom. I stood up and went to my white-framed window, looking down on the world from two storeys up.
My house sat comfortably on the rise of a hill, giving a wonderful view of the sprawling town down below. It was extremely modern; showing barely any personal touches and possessing dangerously pointed corners in its design. My architect mother had drawn up the plan herself, and my building-company owning father had made it into a reality. It was a nice house, I supposed, but it was too big for three people and didn't feel like 'home' to me at all.
Wealthy as my parents were, however, they couldn't purchase the forced normalcy of their only child; no matter how normal I had been originally. A name like Mary Alice practically screamed 'common', but my reputation – both at school and in general society – was anything but.
By virtue of merciless teasing in pre-school by the worlds biggest (and scariest) five-year old, I had been rendered friend-less for most of my life. Only a few people during the summer vacations had been more than just acquaintances with me – some girls, some boys.
There were two of these people who stuck most vividly in my mind. One was Sarah Cilles. She was a seemingly bored girl of my age who had never related to people well, either. We got to know each other because of my habit of searching particular people out by "a lucky coincidence". We visited regularly during that time a lifetime of summers ago, but since then hadn't seen each other. I had given her my details, figuring that if she was still interested in knowing me, she'd call. But she hadn't. And I was okay with that, because I knew we'd meet again some day.
The other person who'd become one of my greatest once-in-a-summertime friendships was Jonah Crockett. Jonah was a great guy; one of the people I still keep in contact with. Of course, I had only met him during the last summer – but my encounter with him wasn't like the others. I had not had a vision involving him, so I was very surprised when he asked for my help with directions on the street one day. Sensing that he was a good person and someone worth staying in touch with, I asked him if he wanted to catch up again; at the same time making it clear that I wasn't interested in him in that way at all. He returned the attitude to a friendship-only acquaintance, and we'd agreed to meet again the next day. His family lived in Newport, so there were no problems distance-wise.
Yet, even as I drove too-fast along the highway toward Morehead City, I couldn't help but wonder what Jonah was doing now, and when I was going to see him again. Usually, by now I would have had a vision about who my newest summertime friend was going to be, being the beginning of summer and all. Maybe this stunning blonde man was going to take up the position? I certainly hoped so.
I saw a traffic hold-up ahead and slowed my dark sedan down to a crawling pace. I twisted in my seat to see what was going on up ahead – there were people in high visibility jackets cutting a large tree into smaller pieces and removing it from the road. Mentally, I cussed myself for not seeing this sooner, but decided to sit back and relax for a minute in compensation.
Gently, my eyelids slid down over my eyes and I took a few deep breaths to calm my excited pulse. Ever since the vision of that restaurant and its occupant had come to mind, my heart had been on adrenaline-pumping overdrive.
I began to think about the conversation between my mother and I before I'd left home this afternoon.
I ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to a five-step leap at the foot just as my mother rounded the corner. She jumped and held her heart in fright. I just rolled my eyes, expecting the obvious.
"Alice!' she scolded breathlessly. "The neighbours might have seen! Have you no self-preservation? You'll end up in a broken heap on the carpet one day if you keep that up, you know." She gave me her annoying all-knowing look before she straightened her jacket and continued on through to the kitchen.
I yanked my jeans up a little before following her. My mother was digging in the fridge, so I pattered across the tiles and sat down on one of the bar stools around the cooking island.
"Mum," I began in my most controlled voice, "I was wondering if I could go for a drive this afternoon."
My mother's long black hair fell into her face as she straightened up to look at me. She possessed dark eyes, unlike my blue ones, and they were a strange shade of brown that reminded me of volcanic rock because of their almost-purple quality. She had a slender jaw line, but large apples to her cheeks prevented her from looking too thin. She had, altogether, a very pretty face.
"Why? And where do you want to go?" The contents of the vegetable crisper fell onto the countertop from her hands, the fridge door closing with a backwards push of her foot.
"Morehead City," I answered simply.
"There's someone there I want to meet."
She looked at me with almost-maroon eyes, and I could hear the question before she'd voiced it. "Is this because of another one of your hallucinations?"
This had happened too many times before for it to wind me up. I'd learned it was just easiest to agree, and pacify them by admitting that it might not turn out the way I knew it would. But it always did.
"Yes. If they're not there, I'll just come home again. I'll be back before nightfall at the very least, I think." I decided to be tactful as I added on the end, "I was planning on going down that way to see Jonah soon anyway."
The mention of Jonah lightened my mother's resolve immediately. I couldn't blame her – he was unreasonably good-looking. And a gentleman too. But, not the one for me.
"Oh, well, you let him know I said hello, won't you?" She started cutting vegetables. I wondered what she was making, but then an instantaneous vision of a steaming bowl of minestrone answered my question for me.
"Okay, mum. I should be home for dinner." I hopped off the stool and headed back to the stairs, but doubled back once I was through the doorway. "Mum?"
She looked up in response, the knife halting in the air above a carrot. Another vision flitted into my head.
"Don't forget to add some water to the vegies before you throw them in the blender. And, there are some bandaids in the cupboard above the kettle."
She looked at me curiously before shaking off my comment and continuing to chop through the orange stick.
Just as I reached the top of the stairs, though, I heard her swear under her breath as she clipped the side of her finger with the knife. There was a creak as she opened the cupboard above the kettle, and I knew she'd listened to me about the bandaids.
I nearly fell out of my seat when the car behind me beeped their horn impatiently. I threw an annoyed look over my shoulder, seeing a cabbie with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He gave me the finger when he caught me looking, and I poked my tongue out childishly back at him. It was a signature move.
The cabbie leaned on his horn again, and I closed my eyes in frustration. It was like he was beating a saucepan with an iron bar over my head. A second later his car disappeared into my blind spot as he pulled out, driving too-fast along the wrong side of the road. A few cars coming from the other direction beeped furiously at him as he swerved off the edge onto the dirt shoulder. I laughed. Yet somehow, the cabbie made it through the swarm of high visibility jackets and a moment later was flooring it ahead of everyone, on the other side of the obstructing tree.
Ten minutes later, I huffed in boredom. Unfortunately for us lollipop-abiding citizens, the clearance of the tree hadn't progressed much.
I flipped on the radio and listened to the mindless drone of the hosts. My interest was peaked a minute later when the weather report for the weekend began. Being a local radio station, the information about Morehead City came up first.
And there are plenty of traffic problems around Morehead City, powerlines down on highways and some people even finding their back fences down due to trees… But the biggest news of the hour is that Morehead City is about eight hours away from a serious hurricane… authorities are slowly cutting off all entries into the city… if you're heading in we suggest that you turn yourself right on around and head back to higher, drier land. This is Mix Sixty-Three FM, giving you the biggest news every fifteen minutes.
I immediately panicked. The police were barricading all entries into the city? I needed to get to that restaurant, today! I was uncertain for a half moment, but a momentary vision of my sedan cruising through the clear road into Morehead City made my decision for me.
I held off for about thirty seconds, knowing that the last car heading away from the city was about to pass me, then I made like a crazy cab driver and pulled out from the line-up.
I pushed my foot to the floor, engine throwing me back into my seat, and whipped past every one of the workers without touching even a splinter on the road. Lucky, I thought happily as I left the stunned lollipop man behind me.
Because I was concentrating so hard on keeping my car on the road as I headed to Morehead City, it didn't seem like more than the blink of an eye before I was within the town limits. Thunder rumbled threateningly overhead, rain sprinkling down on my car at the same moment. I flicked on the wipers and kept weaving my way through the almost-deserted streets. Despite my knowledge that it couldn't have been later than one o'clock, the sky looked like it was approaching sunset.
I followed the directions I'd seen in my mind's eye, rounding a corner to finally see the restaurant sitting in all its yellow-walled glory, rain misting mysteriously around it. There was a circular sign by the main entrance declaring it to be the 'Bistro By The Sea', and my heart breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't here yet, because the road wasn't wet enough to reflect an image.
I pulled up into the car park beside the restaurant, hopping out and locking the car behind me without looking. The reassuring 'blip blip' sounded as the parking lights flashed twice behind me.
The door to the restaurant was made of glass, and I saw inside that it looked very warm. Grateful for a break from the building wind, I pushed my way through the heavy door, letting it fall closed behind me. The gush of icy air alerted the maitre d' to my presence, and she scooted over with a politely professional smile on her face.
Libby, declared her nametag. "Hello, how can I be of service?"
"I'd like a table for two," I said, looking around the restaurant.
"Do you have reservations?" she asked, tapping away on a small, hand-held organiser that I assumed was linked to the restaurant's mainframe.
"No," I said, knowing without hesitation that they did have spare tables. I could see some across the room.
"No problem." Libby pushed the organiser back into her pocket and smiled warmly at me. "Can I take your jacket before you sit?"
"That's alright. I'll keep it with me for now."
"Let me show you to your seat then." She didn't want for a response, leading me to a table off to the right. I was grateful for the view outside through a large window. As I watched, sheeting rain began again outside. "Can I get you anything to drink?" Libby asked me, alerting me to her presence once more.
"Not yet, I'd like to wait a while until my friend arrives."
Libby smiled politely again. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything." She bowed her head slightly before ducking back to the 'IN' doors of the kitchen. Once there was a small basket of breadsticks on my table, she resumed her post at the front of the restaurant to welcome customers.
Pleased with my efforts and timing, I allowed my eyes to wander around the place. The walls surrounding the dining area had tasteful maroon decorative patterns on them, and I could see a piano on a raised platform by an area I assumed was the dance floor. The rich floorboards glimmered welcomingly in the bare lighting provided by the wall-lights. There was a wall half-separating the dancing area from the dining, and it was dimmer on the dance floor. There was a bar across the room from me, the classic woodwork evident again. It was clear that this place was meant for the wealthy. I wondered if that was the case for my mystery boy.
I waited for a while, people-watching to pass the time. Too many hours after I arrived, I accepted Libby's persistent efforts to get to me to have something to drink. She replaced the breadsticks at the same time, and I felt a little embarrassed that I'd finished them off by myself. Again.
"Are you sure he's coming?" Libby asked me again, all of a thousand times.
I smiled warily, my patience not yet stretched due to the practise provided by my parents.
She looked at me with an expression that could be described most accurately as 'pity', and then walked away. She thought he wasn't coming.
Despite this, a minute later she returned with a stack of unlit candles in her hands.
"For the evening-diners," she clarified when I opened my mouth to ask. I just nodded in response, watching as she lit the tall wax-and-string combination with a match. She repeated the process with each of the other tables, dimming the overhead lights to a romantic haze a minute later.
There was a buzzing in my pocket, and I looked down in surprise. The little blue light on the screen of my phone was flashing with the vibrations, announcing that there was a call from 'home'. I sighed and flipped the top.
"Alice! There you are darling. I thought you'd be home by now." It was my mother. "Are you still coming home for dinner?"
I thought about this very quickly, deciding that I would wait all night if that's what it would take. Besides, if the blonde guy walked in right now I wouldn't have enough time to drive home to catch dinner anyway.
"No, I'm going to dine out with a friend tonight."
"Oh!" She sounded almost insultingly surprised. "You met the person you went to meet, then?"
I hesitated for a moment, not liking to lie. There was a tinkling across the room, indicating that another patron had entered the restaurant. I glanced up with disinterest, presuming that it would be another moustached man with a too-dark-lipstick wife on his arm.
But it wasn't. It was him.
"Yes, I found him. I have to go; it's rude to be on the phone when you're with someone. Don't wait up for me. See you later." I threw the words into a single breath, excited beyond heart-rate capability. I would have been impressed if she'd understood me.
But I could hear her protests from the phone as I snapped it shut, so I assumed she hadn't. Oh well. I'd call her later.
However, my attention was completely claimed by a stranger across the room, so thoughts of my parents quickly vanished.
"Hello, how many for your party?" Libby asked the gorgeous man, habitually reaching for her organiser.
The mysterious boy looked uncomfortable. "Um… actually…"
I grinned, and piped up immediately. "You've kept me waiting," I called across the room.
Well!! That's the first chapter! If you want to review, I know you will, so I'm not gonna bug you by telling you to do so.
However, if you want to tell me what your favourite movie of all time is, go right ahead! Mine's 'She's The Man'. Yumm... Channing Tatum...