Solar Eclipse [UNDER CONSTRUCTION]

1. Fate

1. Fate

It was chilly outside, and the cold seeped through every tiny pore in my brown knitted sweater. I could feel each little hair on my arm sticking straight up, but I didn't care. I leaned against the porch railing and hugged myself, breathing in the fresh scent of pine trees. I loved that smell. It reminded me of Christmas. I exhaled slowly, looking around at the forest that surrounded the house. We had moved to Forks a little over a year ago, but I still couldn't get over how beautiful it was here, and quiet, compared to the bustling city we used to live in.

Moving here was my mom's idea. Her great, great grandfather was a Quileute from the La Push tribe that resides here in Forks. After nearly sixteen years, she finally grew tired of the big city, and decided it was time to go back home. She felt it was important that I know my heritage, and she wanted to be reminded of hers. However, because she wasn't full Indian, she felt it was wrong to move onto the reservation, so we moved out here instead: closer to the mountains, about a twenty minute drive from the town.

I pressed my palm against the column, running it up and down the smooth, caramel colored wood. You can't get this in New York, I thought, remembering all of the tall, run-down brick buildings I would pass on the way to school each morning. And the traffic! Ugh. I shook my head, remembering the noises and the smells and the bustling people.

I breathed in the fresh air once more, grateful I no longer lived in the crowded, smoggy suburbs of New York City. A loud noise broke my reverie and I looked up just in time to catch my dog Willow barking ferociously at a butterfly, making its way slowly across our yard. Willow growled and leapt at the little white butterfly, her jaws snapping around the air. The butterfly just barely touched the tip of her nose before fluttering off across the yard, teasing my poor dog. I laughed, watching her try once more to capture the butterfly before I whistled. Her head immediately whipped around and her body froze at attention. I patted my knees, cooing. "Come here girl!"

She shot across our yard and in a matter of seconds was sitting at my feet, her tail wagging. I knelt down and gently scratched behind her ears. "Good girl." Her tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth and her lips were pulled back in such a way it looked as though she were smiling. I planted a kiss on top of her nose and remembered when my aunt had first sent her to me. Back in New York, we weren't allowed to have pets in our apartment, which made sense---it was very small and the walls seemed as if they were made out of paper. Our family of three barely even fit; then again, I'm sure spacing would've been a lot better if it weren't for my mom's hundreds of little knick-knacks. Almost immediately after we sent word to the rest of the family that we were all settled into our new home, I got a package from my aunt containing a neatly written letter and a Greater Swiss Mountain puppy with a huge red bow tied around her neck. I smiled at the memory, gently stroking Willow's cheek with my thumb. 

Suddenly, Willow pressed her ears forward, standing very still. Her nose began to twitch as she wiggled away from me and disappeared through the dog door into the house. It didn't take me long to realize what had caught my dog's attention: almost immediately I caught a small whiff of something utterly delicious. Imitating Willow, I turned and followed the delectable scent inside. 

It was noticeably warmer in the house than outside, and the warm air hit me in a rush, causing my face to sting slightly as it began to thaw. I pressed my fingertips to my cheeks and rubbed in slow, small circles as I walked through the foyer into the kitchen, where the delicious aroma of spices had become more and more intense. "Mmm," I said, sniffing the air and settling down onto a bar stool. "What's for dinner Mom?"

My mom glanced at me for a moment, a smile spread across her face before she returned her attention to the stove. "You'll see; it's a surprise." My mom was a natural cook; she loved to prepare all sorts of crazy dishes for my dad and me. The kitchen was cluttered with all sorts of pots and pans, cooking utensils, all different patterns of dishware, at least ten different cookbooks of all shapes and sizes. Our house always smelled of wild spices. We never ate the same meal twice. I always liked to think of my mom as a free spirit: she kept life interesting, and always made Dad and me try new things.