literature

Edward 1: Piano

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     My fingers lightly caressed the ivory and ebony keys, applying the slightest of pressures, coaxing the music out. I moved very slowly at first, letting the notes fill the air, before becoming more passionate: the sound was luxuriating to my ears, and I became one with my piano. My mother’s hand rested lightly on my shoulders as she watched.

“This is wonderful, Edward,” she murmured, and I glanced up at her for a short second. Her emerald eyes were swimming. I finished, and the melody echoed in the living room. Mother sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I’m so proud of you.” I smiled.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“I loved it, Edward. Absolutely loved it.” She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before retiring to the sofa. I went and sat next to her, taking her small, warm hand. She smiled before giving me a scolding look.

“We need to get your hair cut soon. It’s so long!” She ruffled my locks, so much like her own bronze. I laughed and shook my head once her hand fell into her lap.

“Silly boy,” she teased, patting my knee before getting up and going to the kitchen. I followed.

“Are we doing anything tonight?” I asked, nonchalant.

“Actually, yes.” Her answer surprised me; I looked up to meet her gaze. “I invited the Books’ over today; I hope you don’t mind.”

I couldn’t help but groan. Would my mother ever stop trying to marry me off?

“But you know Laura; she’s such a sweet girl! And her mother and I have been meaning to get together again,” she explained as I sat back down to the piano. I began playing the Midnight Sonata to help reflect my mood.

“Oh, stop that!” Mother laughed, and I  joined in.

“Sorry.” I lifted my hands from the keys, abruptly stopping the song; I put them on my knees. “When are they coming?” Mother stole a glance at the clock.

“They should be here in a few minutes.” I groaned internally.

There was a knock at the door.

“Ah! There they are now!” Mother went straight to the white door, opening it and revealing our guests. I stood up to help her greet them.

“Mrs. Books! I’m so glad you could come!” Mother greeted, kissing her friend on the cheek. “And Laura, dear, how splendid you two could come by!”

Mrs. Books entered the living room. She was a short woman, only about five feet tall, and her long brown hair was tied in a bun that sat on the top of her head. Her daughter followed shortly after. Laura’s blond hair was curled into soft ringlets that shaped her rectangular face. She flushed a light pink when our eyes met, and I looked at my shoes.

“Hello, Edward,” she murmured. I looked up now, and her blue eyes were smiling. “Embarrassing how our mothers put us up to this, isn’t it?” She laughed lightly, and snuck a peek over her shoulders; my mother and Mrs. Books were engaged in a conversation; they paid us no mind.

Neither of us spoke for a moment; I coughed to break the silence. She happened to notice my piano in that instance.

“Oh, it’s so pretty,” she whispered, stepping around me and lightly touching the piano.

“Do you play?” I asked. She looked up at me--I seemed to suddenly noticed here size. Standing up straight in small heels, she only reached mid-chest. She was tiny. She shook her head.

“No, I don’t.” Her tone was regretful. “I’ve always wanted to learn….” Her fingers lightly caressed the keys.

“Why don’t I play you something?” I offered, taking my seat.

“Oh, play what you played for me, Edward! Clair de Lune!” Mother called from the other side of the room; she and Mrs. Books took their seats on the couch. I offered Laura to sit beside me; she shyly accepted. And I began to play.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as Laura studied my hands, the movement of my fingers and the keys: she seemed hypnotized. I chuckled to myself.

The song ended: my audience clapped politely for me.

“That was very beautiful, Edward,” Laura told me. “Could you teach me how to play?”

“Of course.” I didn’t need eyes in the back of my head to know my mother was smiling: from what she could see, her plan had worked.

I spent the next few hours teaching my new friend how to play. She was a quick learner: by the time dinner came around, she could play the first few lines of Fur Elise.

Laura and her mother would’ve stayed for dinner, but it seemed that Mrs. Books had an errand to run; I gave Laura the promise that I would continue teaching her to play piano. I knew mother was at least a little disappointed that I hadn’t proposed to her right then.

“That was nice,” Mother said as she set the table, her back to me.

“Yes, it was,” I agreed: it hadn’t gone as badly as I’d expected. “Laura’s a nice girl.” Mother turned around.

“You think so?” she asked, hopeful. I nodded, and sat at my plate.

Father came in the door then, interrupting Mother from continuing.

“I’m home!” he called, setting his briefcase down at the door. Mother rushed to his side, kissing him on the cheek.

“And just in time for dinner,” she announced, but my father shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth, but I’m just not feeling my best. I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.” Mother frowned at him and sighed.

“Alright.” Father chuckled and kissed her cheek.

“I’m sorry.” He coughed once, then rubbed his eyes. “Tough day today; I think I’ll just go and lie down.” His hands were still on his face as he glided past me without saying hello.

Mother and I ate silently; I kissed her cheek before retiring to bed. I was in the disorienting state between consciousness and unconsciousness when I heard Mother scream; I leapt out of bed, running to her and my father’s room.

There was blood on his pillow.
Edward's backstory is suprisingly hard to write. >.<

Yay I'm in this one! Can you find me? Huhuhuh? Lolz. Couldn't resist.

Gah, I hate writers block; I have no idea on what to do with the next chapter. >.<

Twilight and all its wonderful characters and plot lines belong to the beautiful Stephenie Meyer. Not me.
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person-is-awesome's avatar
awesomenessness! luv your backstories! ^.^





"You may say I'm a dreamer but I'm not the only one'' John Lennon-Imagine