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Twilight New Moon
1
Sometime in the night I slipped from sleep back into consciousness. The street lamp still intruded from the alley. I wondered what time it was. Scudding clouds were visible and the moon was full. Snowflakes drifted down through the light and sparkled so lazily they couldn’t amount to much.
John had rolled toward me and I studied the heavy hair on his face. Apparently he had stayed awake long enough to retract his fangs. The hair made him look so different. When I saw him this way I could believe he went as far back as Egypt. He looked like Charlton Heston when he played Moses, but without the gray hair.
After a few moments in which I studied John I felt a twinge in my bladder. That must be what had waked me in the first place. I lay there, too comfortable to move immediately and as I lay there I saw the slightest pink finger creep upward across the gray clouds. The twinge in my bladder became a prodding and a priority and I slid from bed pulling on top and jeans. I padded barefoot into the hallway.
The change from carpet to a chill wood floor jarred me to full wakefulness, and I pushed on a door, ending up somewhat to my surprise in a bathroom.
The chill tile made my toes curl. I skipped a few steps and sat, thankful for the rug residing at the bottom of the toilet.
The house was silent and my business sounded awful loud to me. There was a fan switch but in my sleep coma I had only hit the light.
I heard a bump, sounding from outside. There was a gurgle, too, but I was sure that came from the kitchen. Then I heard scratching sounds. We had mice at home, too. Also at home, my tarantula, Mrs. McGoot, restless in the night in her vivarium in my bedroom would scratch around in her bedding and sometimes feed on a partially eaten lizard, cricket, death’s head cockroach or “pinkie,” a pinkie being a baby mouse unable to defend itself. Another bump was multiply caused; too much even for the usual scraping of branches against the house in the wind. Something was stirring outside.
The sisters’ surveillance tapes from the So Good Motel across the street showed that deer and antelopes by the dozen visited here, and dogs too. The dogs must be chasing. Did they get started this early? I could picture their images on the tapes but the timer flashing across the bottom was just a blur. Then I heard a door swinging, and figured John must be up. He really did wake with the sun. I heard footsteps, and the creaks of wood floors, lots of creaks and a lot more steps, and some stomping. I also heard the rattle of that had to come from the actions of people. Someone was in the house! My first impulse was to scream.
Still sitting, I raised up a couple inches. Stretching far as I could caused me to emit a common bathroom sound. Disgusted with myself for being noisy just when absolute silence was called for, I parted the curtain. I expected to see glass that was frosted and opaque. Instead I saw the backs of a line of men carrying short guns, wearing dark blue jackets that proclaimed “SWAT” in white lettering. They had the front door bungeed open and were filing into the house. There was fresh snow on the walk; that would explain the stomping.
“John!” I wanted to yell. But yelling could result in quick movements and could wind up getting us shot. So I slipped over to the switch and shut off the light. Then I pulled up my panties and listened.
I heard footsteps, lots of steps going past the bathroom. The voices were muffled, except for John’s. “I’m alone, there’s no one here.”
He must believe I’d left and gone home during the night.
Sometime in the night I slipped from sleep back into consciousness. The street lamp still intruded from the alley. I wondered what time it was. Scudding clouds were visible and the moon was full. Snowflakes drifted down through the light and sparkled so lazily they couldn’t amount to much.
John had rolled toward me and I studied the heavy hair on his face. Apparently he had stayed awake long enough to retract his fangs. The hair made him look so different. When I saw him this way I could believe he went as far back as Egypt. He looked like Charlton Heston when he played Moses, but without the gray hair.
After a few moments in which I studied John I felt a twinge in my bladder. That must be what had waked me in the first place. I lay there, too comfortable to move immediately and as I lay there I saw the slightest pink finger creep upward across the gray clouds. The twinge in my bladder became a prodding and a priority and I slid from bed pulling on top and jeans. I padded barefoot into the hallway.
The change from carpet to a chill wood floor jarred me to full wakefulness, and I pushed on a door, ending up somewhat to my surprise in a bathroom.
The chill tile made my toes curl. I skipped a few steps and sat, thankful for the rug residing at the bottom of the toilet.
The house was silent and my business sounded awful loud to me. There was a fan switch but in my sleep coma I had only hit the light.
I heard a bump, sounding from outside. There was a gurgle, too, but I was sure that came from the kitchen. Then I heard scratching sounds. We had mice at home, too. Also at home, my tarantula, Mrs. McGoot, restless in the night in her vivarium in my bedroom would scratch around in her bedding and sometimes feed on a partially eaten lizard, cricket, death’s head cockroach or “pinkie,” a pinkie being a baby mouse unable to defend itself. Another bump was multiply caused; too much even for the usual scraping of branches against the house in the wind. Something was stirring outside.
The sisters’ surveillance tapes from the So Good Motel across the street showed that deer and antelopes by the dozen visited here, and dogs too. The dogs must be chasing. Did they get started this early? I could picture their images on the tapes but the timer flashing across the bottom was just a blur. Then I heard a door swinging, and figured John must be up. He really did wake with the sun. I heard footsteps, and the creaks of wood floors, lots of creaks and a lot more steps, and some stomping. I also heard the rattle of that had to come from the actions of people. Someone was in the house! My first impulse was to scream.
Still sitting, I raised up a couple inches. Stretching far as I could caused me to emit a common bathroom sound. Disgusted with myself for being noisy just when absolute silence was called for, I parted the curtain. I expected to see glass that was frosted and opaque. Instead I saw the backs of a line of men carrying short guns, wearing dark blue jackets that proclaimed “SWAT” in white lettering. They had the front door bungeed open and were filing into the house. There was fresh snow on the walk; that would explain the stomping.
“John!” I wanted to yell. But yelling could result in quick movements and could wind up getting us shot. So I slipped over to the switch and shut off the light. Then I pulled up my panties and listened.
I heard footsteps, lots of steps going past the bathroom. The voices were muffled, except for John’s. “I’m alone, there’s no one here.”
He must believe I’d left and gone home during the night.
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December 30, 2015
I thought this book was okay. Even though I thought Bella should have ended up with Jacob, I could see why she choose Edward. I had a few problems with the story. It was too drawn out in some places. The characters were okay.
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