I have often wished that I could go back in time instead of living forever.  If I could, I'd like to find out how vampirism first began.  So often, I wonder at the blood lust that drives my kind, and the insanity that that lust brings with it.

I saw a film once called Dracula 2000, done by Wes Craven.  It theorized that when Judas betrayed Christ for silver coins, and subsequently hanged himself with his guilt, God denied him the luxury of death, cursing him instead to live forever with the shame and insanity of his sin.  The insanity drove him to lust for the blood of the living, gathering as many around him as he could to worship him, and in the end, create an ultimately unsatisfying illusion of the love that God denied him. Of all the beginnings I've ever heard, this is the most intriguing.

And I have so often wondered. 

Words: 152
Edward Cullen
Twilight book series

OOC: I've been sick for a while now, so while Edward's entries are in the works, they are slightly delayed. Sorry!!

What makes someone a hero? What makes someone a villain?

There was once a time when I would have had a definite answer for both those questions. These days, however, the truth seems rather relative. Those who declare themselves heroes rarely are, and yet in our everyday life, we find people who are heroes to us. Carlisle, who has given so much so selflessly, and gone to so much pain to keep others safe, especially from himself. When I think of a hero, I think of him, saving the lives of others.

But then… I also think of him stealing the souls of some. It is not that I hate him. I would never go so far as to say anything even remote to that. It was right of him, I suppose, to save us from cruel deaths… but the cost is so great, that I wonder some times if he is not also the villain in our story. He never asked. He took.

As much as I admire him and consider him my own personal hero… I cannot help but think that perhaps there is something of a villain in him as well.

Always, of course, from a certain point of view.

There is a stream not far from my home where I go to relax.  It is no different than any other stream I have seen in my long life, but it is beautiful in its simplicity.  I went there, once soon after Bella arrived, hoping that the quiet rippling of the water would wash away her intoxicating smell… I have always found the rushing sound soothing, but in this instance, it only seemed to carry that intangible essence with it, that vague little reminder that she was not far away, that within a moment or two, I could be at her home, watching her sleep. 

The stream, I have decided, contains more intelligence than I first suspected.  It kept bringing her smell back to me, kept teasing me with her nearness.  And after I returned from Alaska, it was still there, never-changing, but bringing along with it a gentle nudge. 

I brought Bella to the stream once.  It does not tease me with her smell anymore.  I think it knows that there is no need.