I got into a defensive stance, my creator mimicking me. My crimson eyes darkened considerably, and I didn't even begin to worry about my dress getting torn. I knew I would not win, but I never back down from a challenge.

I was walking around the small town of Leona, Texas, when I was grabbed behind, a hand placed over my hand as I tried to scream. My emerald greens eyes darting around. It was the year of 1861, and I had just had my 20th birthday. My brother had gone off to defend the South, only writing every few weeks, along with my Father. My mother had died a few years back of the fever.

It felt as tough I could not breathe, like I was drowning. I struggled, but this person had an iron grip on me. They turned me around to face them, and was met with a shock of curly, honey blonde and stunning crimson eyes. In my dazed moment, I had ended up on the ground, with his teeth grazing my neck. Shocked, I stilled, afraid to move because of this crazy man. A few seconds later I felt a horrible pain all over my body. It felt like I was burning at the stake.

I awoke 3 days later and promptly informed I was a vampire. And they laugh at this memory, but right after Maria finished her sentence, I asked, "Where is a new dress and a place for me to bathe? It is not ladylike to have a torn dress and be covered in sticks and mud." To which she promptly escorts me to a river and hands me a lovely red dress, with a lace neck, dark red flowers on the fabric, decorative stitching on the front, and a lovely black cape to match.

After receiving the garment, I promptly took down my hair, took off my headpiece, and took off the torn dress and slipped into the river, scrubbing the mud of me, getting the leaves and twigs out of my hair, and then getting the mud out of my long, curly brown hair. After I was finished bathing, I slipped on my undergarments and the new dress, put my boots back on, cleaning my headpiece, and started heading back to camp, headpiece in hand.

Once I made it back, I was immediately confronted by a petite girl with pale blonde hair in a bun, and a lovely gray dress with blue, which made me wonder if she was in a stage of mourning. "Hello," she said, eyeing me strangely. "My name is Charlotte. And your name is?" I thought she was being rude. "None of your business, but I will tell you anyway. Isabella Swan." I stated, rather angry, to this Charlotte girl. "Nice to meet you Isabella." She replied, giving a curt nod and walking off. How rude, I thought to myself.

Hello, I'm back…:O

I have been getting into the Civil War, and thought it would be cool to do a story on it.

Now guess who her creator is. First person to review with it correct will get a portion of the next chapter. :D

~ CheerandDance