Hey people! So I got the idea for this in the middle of U.S. History the other day (weird I know) and the ideas just keep coming to me. I'm a HUGE history dork so there may be some instances in this story that include major historic events (but I promise to not make them boring). I already have a few awesome ideas for where I want this story to go so read and let me know what you think =]
I was dying, I knew it.
My name is Isabella Marie Swan. I live in Boston with my father, Charles Swan. He is a lawyer, just as his father was before him. Our family had been in Boston for as long as the city had existed, and before that the Swans haled from Plymouth. My mother was Renee Swan, but she died during childbirth. I was raised solely by my father and he treated me as if I were the most precious jewel in the world. By the time I was sixteen, my father had refused almost ten men who had asked for my hand in marriage. Apparently I was a desirable young woman, though I never understood why. I had long, plain brown hair that was usually in tangled waves. My plain brown eyes held no special twinkle that I could see. I was a scrawny, pale young thing. I did not have much of a bust, nor did I possess those soft womanly curves. Still, despite my own view of myself, I would see the men who would watch me as I walked down the street. Whenever this happened, my cheeks would ignite, creating deep blush.
Just weeks before my 17th birthday, I was struck ill with a fever. My father spent as many hours as he could at my bedside. He had several doctors in to treat me, but it always seemed as if nothing worked. I would sleep for days on end, always waking shivering in a cold sweat. My father never knew, but sometimes I could hear him weep for me at night.
After the first week of my sickness, father hired a sick nurse by the name of Catherine Webber. She was a nice woman, pleasantly plump with rosy cheeks and warm brown eyes. She spoke to me in a low, soothing voice while she cared for me. She'd tell me stories and read books to me as best she could. She had instantly become like a mother to me.
I was having another episode of sleep when I had the strangest of dreams. A beautiful man with shiny, black hair stood above me. His skin was so pale it almost seemed as though it sparkled and there was a kind smile pulling at his full lips. His eyes glowed red and only seemed to add to his absolute perfection.
"Hello my dear. I've been looking for you." When he spoke, his voice sounded far away, as if he didn't belong in my dream. But even then, I could hear the honey-like texture of his voice. My fever pushed a pathetic sounding whimper through my lips.
"Do not worry my child; I'm going to make it all better." As he faded from my dream, I felt my body being surrounded by an icy chill. I could feel the wind whipping through my limp hair and someone's even breathing above me. The wind finally stopped and the burn of a thousand fires ignited within me.
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