Our New Beginning

498 18 1
                                    

PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW AND VOTE IF YOU LIKE MY STORIES!  I get my new laptop in a couple of days, so if I see some likes and votes for my new stories, I may get really excited and update them all ;-)

I’m also unofficially dedicating this story to my mother.  I began to get this idea on the day of what would’ve been her 71st birthday.  She was the one who encouraged me to read and to write, and I wouldn’t be who I a today if not for her big impact on my life, that lasted for only a short time.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@  @}-;--XOXO

For most of my life, I thought I had the perfect, normal childhood.  But I was sadly mistaken.

I’m what my mother calls a hybrid and what I call a half-breed.  Once I was conceived, it barely took me a month to grow to full size and to rip my way out of her stomach…something that I still have nightmares about, to this day.  That’s really the only part of my past that I’ve ever tried to block out, though erasing that from my memory isn’t exactly easy.

Much to my mother’s dismay, I grew just as fast for the next year, when my age appeared to be around that of a six-year-old, right before my very first birthday.  At this time, we were living in Alaska, and my mother wanted to make sure that my aging had indeed slowed down before moving in to town.

It was at this time, the one time that my mother allowed me to hunt by myself, did things go awry.  While my mother went deeper into the woods in search of bears, I stayed near the creeks, craving cougar, which were known, themselves, for hunting elk.

While I was crouched, waiting, ready to strike when the timing was right, did I smell a much sweeter smell.  At this point, I was no longer in control as my legs pumped as fast as they could go, stopping dead in front of an old shack.  Suddenly, I was able to push my thirst to the back of my mind as I began to hear someone crying.  That someone sounded close to my age, maybe a little older.  And she was in pain.

Risking my secret, I opened the door and shut it right back, to keep the drafty, cold air out.  I could hear her as she held her breath, hoping that whoever it was would go away, and a normal person probably would’ve, but I was anything but normal.

“My name is Renesmee,” I called out softly, hoping she could tell that I was no danger to her.  At least I wasn’t, now.

Suddenly, out of the darkness came a slender, petite girl.  She was probably a lot smaller than she should’ve been, yet I could tell with her facial features and the look in her eyes, that she was a lot older than what her age and size were telling me.  I guessed that she was ten, but I honestly wasn’t sure.

She stepped further into the light, and that’s when I saw something that I would never forget.  First off was her attire: she was in Alaska, and had on a tattered pair of jeans, old sneakers, an insulated jacket that had seen better days, since the feathers were starting to fall out, and she had on some kind of t-shirt underneath that.  That’s where things started to get peculiar for me.

Her t-shirt, which I’m guessing had, at one time, been white with some kind of cartoonish character on it, was now almost as tattered as her jeans were, and a lot of the shirt was covered in blood, a lot of it fairly new, but some of it had already dried, so I’m guessing that those were barely a week old…which was probably the last time she had taken a bath.

From what I could tell, her hair was a reddish-brown, but it was so oily that I doubt it had been washed in weeks.  Her face was pale, her cheeks were flushed and I heard her stomach growling like it had been neglected just as bad as the rest of her.  But beneath all that, I saw bruises, cuts, scrapes, a cast on her left arm and a black eye, and those were just the visible injuries.

Forever and AlwaysWhere stories live. Discover now