Hey guys! This is a different kind of story. Obviously. Anyways, here's where I tell you that I don't own twilight, or the characters. I do, though, own the plot, and that's good enough for me! Enjoy!
The wind, cool as ice, whipped through the air, blowing her hair into her already watery eyes. Taking a deep breath, her nose filled with a musky salt smell, and she shut her eyes. The frigid water ran over her bare toes. Her shoes lay forgotten, some ways behind her.
She had no idea how long she had been there. Her toes, long numb and purple, indicated an hour at the least. With two quick sideways glances, she discovered she was alone on the beach. She let out a soft breath of relief.
A seagull, deserted as she was, hopped toward her. His beady eyes begged for food; hers for understanding.
"Shoo," she murmured, and the serene atmosphere was shattered. She felt sharp tears at the back of her eyes. She wasn't going to let herself cry though. She'd been in this position before, she'd done this countless times. She knew how to fight the pain, and the confused feelings.
It was what she was good at.
Suddenly, and without warning, she dropped onto her butt. Frothy water soaked her jeans, and covered the tops of her feet. Startled, the bird lifted in flight. She watched him until he was a mere speck in the sky.
And she began to laugh; one that rose from her belly, and shook her body. One that lifted and soared away with the bird, the seagull, who was so completely like her that it sparked this unwarranted reaction in her.
He was like her; bolting from unknown danger and hazardous problems. From the drop of a hat-or in this case, a woman- and one who couldn't stay in a single place for long before the itch for flight came back.
Because she, Isabella Marie Swan, was, and always would be, a runner.
This is a prologue. Stick with me for more!