Challenge #9: Butterfly Effect

[| Midnight Sun |]

Hello [#username], ready for this one?

Your challenge is to do a strong 'Butterfly Effect Style What If'? (Change one thing, change everything). What if one event, did not happen in your muses' life, or happened so differently it changed, everything. What if Jacob never imprinted? What if Bella could not forgive Edward? Jasper never left Maria? Alice woke up thirsty, rather then with thoughts of the Cullens? The Volturi never over powered their foes? These are samples and you do NOT have you use them. Make up your own!

Come on [#username]! See if you can test out our writing skills on this one! Just post a reply.

[Alice Cullen]

Fire For Two

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Mary Alice Brandon
Biloxi, MA
1917-1920
Butterfly Effect: If she had never been in the Asylum.[/center]

At the young age of 16, Mary Alice Brandon lived a fully normal life like any other girl. She had a good couple of friends, a great little sister and more. She was known as a very sweet, kind and joyful girl. No one could doubt that. But she and her family kept a big secret from the world: Alice was psycic. That was not the only secret being kept, nobody knew that Alice had a love intrest.

Timothy Harrison was 19. He was tall, slim, had short cropped, strait, brown hair and floding blue eyes. He was completely in love with Mary Alice and never wanted any harm to come to her. The problem, and the reason why their love for one and other was to remain a secret, was that Mr. Brandon loathed Mr. Harrison. Mr. Harrison was the like the mayor, if you will, of their community, and because he abused his authority. Mr. Brandon had many disputes with Mr. Harrison, now the two hated each other. Though, the young couple did not mind keeping it private and hidden, all that mattered to them was that they were in love. Alice only told Timothy her deepest secret after their relationship had lasted a year and a half, he was completely fine with it. Anyone else would of been terrified by this, but Tim loved her too much to care.

When Mary Alice turned 19, Timothy being 22, they met at their usual hide away like every Saturday and Wednesday (they could not meet everyday for it would raise questions and false assumptions), just outside of town in an old abandoned barn. No one, at the time, would think if looking there. Thus, they were safe. But this meeting was important to Alice; she had some news for Timothy. She was pregnant.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked in a low, concerned voice as he looked at his love starting to tear up. She nodded, looking up into his heartbreaking eyes. In any situation, a girl of her age in this day and age would be joyful, pleased about having a child, but when Alice would get bigger, what would she tell people? There was no excuse in the world that could cover up an enlarging belly and abortions did not exsist. Mary Alice's cheeks were over run by tears and Timothy held her securily in his arms. They both knew they would not be able to announce this to the world; their fathers would not have it and would seperate them entirely, the baby would be killed at birth, most likely as well.

"What are we to do?" She cried into his shoulder. Timothy could not answer, he did not know what to tell her. She pressed on. "I will not let them kill our child. I will not let them tear us appart."

"I will not let it happen, I promise." He vowed, kissing to top of her head. How could he keep his promise? Perhaps he could talk to his father (he would of tried his mother, were she still alive) and convince him that he really loved this girl, that he did not care what everyone else thought about it, he loved her too much and wanted this child with her. Alice planed to talk with her mother. Unfortunatly, those discusions did not turn out as well as they had thought they would. Both fathers shunned their children, throwing them out to live on the streets. They were dead to them now, and eventually word spread that Mary Alice Brandon as psycic -- her father having spread it around himself -- and she was wanted, for people believed she was a witch and that her baby would be one as well. Timothy sticked by her, though, and the two ran away.

They could not hide in their barn, it was not safe anymore, so they just ran. Ran as far as they could and hid where ever they ended up. But Alice could not uphold thislife style, so they hid in the in an empty stable in the next town. "We can not hide forever, Tim. They will find us someday." She whispered in a fearful voice.

"What other choise do we have? I do not want to lose you two, especially you." He kissed her passionately and when he pulled away, he held her once more, tightly and securely in his arms. Eventually, she fell asleep, Timothy wanted to say awake and keep watch, but found himself unable to last very long. Luckly, in the morning, they both woke up fine and in the stable. The panic of the night before had not settled and both were starved, and restless. "I should just give up," Mary Alice started, Tim starred at her in shock. "They will find us anyways. At least this way, you do not die for being with me."

Timothy could not believe what he was hearing. He took her wrists in his hands and caught her eye. "I never want to hear you say that ever again." He command was low but harsh, he really ment it and was furious that she would think of such things.

"I have no other choice, Timothy! What good is it, having a child and having to raise it as we run from the people who are trying to kill us?" She fired back.

"Stop! Please stop! You are not doing that! Don't you dare!" He demanded, truely furious. He lowered his face to her level. "We are going to have this child, not here, but somewhere else. Somewhere they can not possibly find us. We will start new lives and our child will have everything it needs, as will we." He whispered her this promise in a soft tone.

- Timothy, is that you? A voice was heard. Everyone, come quick! Timothy caught her! He caught the witch!

---

Thick, strong ropes cut against her wrists and were wraped tightly against her torso as she stood on a great pile of wood, tied to a steak. All the people of the area were there, gathered around to see the show. "Mary Alice Brandon, you are accused of being a witch, thus a threat to all of man kind." Mr. Harrison spoke aloud from atop a balcony in the building she faced. She could see Timothy standing next to his father, the expression on his face too awful to discribe. "For this, you will be burned at the steak and killed. If you survive, then you are truely a witch and you will be killed either way. The dicision has been made. Light the fire!" Five men came forward with flaming toarches in hand. Each one threw theirs onto the large pile of wood under her feet and resumed their place in the crowd of spectators. The flames rose within what seemed like a minute, and were already licking at her feet. Alice looked up at Timothy once more, her face wore the same twisted expression as his as she neared her death. They watched each other as the minutes passed and the fire started to burn at her legs. She started to yell in pain, the spectators roared happily, throwing more items into the fire and yelling insults at her. She faught strongly against her screaming and looked back up at him. So much pain filled his face, it hurt her more to see him this way. I love you. She mouthed, tears flowing faster down her face.

I love you, too. I always will. He managed to mouth back, tears running down his cheeks as well as the flame engulffed her entirely and her last screams where heard.

[Paul Lahote]

When a soda bottle is continuously shaken with the cover still on it, it is bound to eventually explode and result in a massive eruption.

Paul Aaron Moran was a walking soda bottle. The unhealthy anger he constantly felt was becoming worrisome. Had he been home enough for his parents to notice, perhaps they would have enrolled him in an anger management program; but those who knew were his fellow pack members. They recommended no such program; they just impatiently waited for him to imprint, as that was the only hope they had for their own peace of mind.

Every thing would set Paul off. Ever small look that someone gave him; every word that was spoken in a tone he did not approve of; any comment whether it was made as a joke or pure sarcasm. Paul was a force not to be reckoned with for his violent tendencies were increasing and fights were becoming far more frequent in his life. Not only fights, but his phasing was out of control. Every time an inkling of something occurred that Paul did not like, he phased and attacked with aggressive actions which would always result in someone getting hurt: whether that someone be the other person, or Paul himself.

His pack was growing increasingly intolerant of his outbursts, but nothing could be done. He refused to stop phasing, and the pack needed as many members as they could get. Not to mention that he was in fact, the beta of Sam's pack and nothing would ever make him step down from this second in command position of his. Paul was not willing to ease himself either; even if no one spoke to him all day, he would find someone to speak with and use them as an outlet for all the anger that was constantly building up inside of him.

What could be done? Nothing.
Who could help? No one.
When would it stop? Never.

It was a sunny day, but Paul took no notice of the weather. His mood was in no way influenced by whether the sun was out or not. It could have been sunny, raining, hailing or even snowing and Paul would not care. He would still wander the streets either as himself, or as his wolf form. Right now, he was human. His expression was unfriendly, and those who passed him surely would have thought he looked like some criminal wandering the streets of La Push. But there was no one who was a stranger enough to not know Paul . . . or at least know of him. The reputation he had in La Push was not the most flattering one, but Paul did not care. He never cared about what people thought of him . . . ironically enough, that philosophy of his seemed to fail him whenever someone made a derogatory comment about him, or insult him -- intentionally or unintentionally.

"Paul!" A woman's voice called him, and he turned around, seeing Emily Young quickly running towards him.

"Emily," he greeted in a very mundane voice. Her voice was cheery, but also sounded rushed. His was toneless and slightly irritated. Why had she stopped him? She must have needed something. While Paul had grown angry at women, he had never attacked one before. Emily would not be his first. She was far too kind to say anything that would upset Paul . . . but he had a short fuse. It did not take much to anger him any more, so even Emily had to be weary of him.

"Are you busy right now?" She asked, still catching her breath. Paul looked at her, wondering where she was going with her inquiries.

"No. Why?" His voice was short, but she took no notice of his rude tone.

"I was wondering if you could watch Claire, just for a couple of hours."

Him? Babysit? Paul was not a fan of children. He did not know how to deal with them, but Emily must have been extremely desperate if she was asking him to do it. The way she was looking at him, pleading with her eyes . . .

"Fine, yeah." Hopefully it would be shorter than a couple hours.

"Thank you so much Paul! Would you mind watching her at my place; she's already settled there."

Paul nodded. He didn't care where he did it; either way, he did not want to. But maybe Sam would come early and replace Paul as the designated babysitter.

When he got to Emily's place, he saw the infant sitting there, wide awake, grinning. Paul just stared down at her. He heard the front door close shut -- which meant Paul was officially alone with the child.

"Pway time!" She exclaimed excitedly.

"No play time. Nap time," Paul said back, as firmly as he could. Claire pouted, looking at him sadly while she clutched her stuffed bunny.

"Cwaire hungy."

Paul took a few moments to decipher what she was saying. Maybe if she ate something, she would then get tired and go to sleep, and Paul's job would be a whole lot easier. "Fine," he grumbled, heading over to the kitchen. Paul didn't know how to cook, but they were in Emily's house, so there was bound to be some food somewhere. Claire climbed up on the stool while Paul continued to look around the kitchen.

"Cwaire eat cake!"

"There's no cake squirt," he lied, not quite sure what was available in the house. But if there was cake, he was going to eat most of it. He opened the fridge and saw some kraf dinner. Perfect. He took it out and stuck it in the microwave. `

"Cwaire thirsty!"

"I can only do one thing at a time," he snapped, but Claire was too much of a happy child to notice his cold tone. Once the microwave beeped, he took out the Kraft Dinner and dumped the whole thing in a bowl, grabbed a spoon from the drawer -- since he had enough sense not to give her a fork.

"Juice!"

"Don't you know your manners," Paul mumbled, looking for a glass.

"Pwease!"

. . . Paul was being sarcastic.

When he took out a plastic cup, Claire looked at it as if he had done something wrong.

"Not gween."

He was getting annoyed. He pulled out an orange cup.

"Nope!" Claire said stubbornly, as she folded her arms across her chest.

Paul took out a red one.

"No siwy!"

Did that brat just call him silly?! He slammed down a yellow cup.

"No yewow!"

Paul had it. "Take the damn cup!" He yelled, already pouring juice inside. Paul was not a patient person, and lack of patience when dealing with a child was not a good quality to have.

Claire got the message. She silently sipped the juice from her cup.

"Juice icky."

"I don't care. You're gonna drink it and eat your food."

Claire put the glass down and began to eat with her hands.

"Civilized!" He said, holding the spoon in her face. "Use this. You're not a cave person."

Claire giggled and took the spoon, trying to eat with it. Paul did not think any of this was funny. He was glaring at the irritating child, and couldn't wait until she fell asleep.

"Cwaire no likey," she said, making a face at the metal spoon he had given her.

"What do you want then? You aren't eating with your hands."

"Pwetty spoon!"

Oh no. Here we go again. Paul rummaged through the drawers, and found a series of colored plastic spoons. "Here," he said passing her one with small bears on the handle.

"No!"

Deep breath Paul, deep breath.

"Here."

"No!" Her tone was more demanding, and Paul's body began trembling.

"This one,"

"NO!"

"This?"

She shook her head.

"Last spoon,"

"Me no likey!"

And thats when it happened. Paul could no longer control it. He felt his body shaking before, and within seconds, the tearing of his clothes could be heard and an angry growl filled the room. He was not planning on attacking the kid, but he could no longer control his anger caused from her disagreeable personality.

Claire screamed. It was a tiny, high pitch screech and tears began streaming down her face. She was in a panicked frenzy, and her body fell backwards on to the hard flooring. Paul's growling subsided as it was replaced with concern. His large figure made it impossible to move in the small kitchen, so he peered over the table, and thats where he saw blood. Blood was spreading on the floor, and it was come from Claire's head.

There was an aura of severe sadness at Claire Young's funeral ceremony. Majority of the people present were in tears. Paul was hiding behind one of the trees, remaining elusive for he know that certain people blamed him for her death. Paul blamed himself for her death. He knew that Quil was devestated, and furious at him for being so neglectful. Emily was overcome with so much sorrow, but Paul knew that she blamed him . . . deep down she did, even if she would never admit it.

Sam was worried for Paul, but Paul hated that concern. He did not want it. What happened, happened. It was a life changing event, and Paul could feel how differently his brothers treated him. He could tell they were genuinly terrified of him. After all, if he could be responsible for Claire's death, what else was possible? He was unstable, but would never accept help from other people. Never.

When everyone had cleared out, Paul waited a few moments before taking a step out of his concealment. He was going to go to Claire's grave, but couldn't bring himself to do it. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. He had become a monster; how could he have phased? And yet, he did not consider it his last straw. Despite the looks he got not only from the pack, but from the general public who knew he was babysitting Claire at the time of her death.

Paul quickly ran away from the cemetary, but did not go home. He ran deep into the woods, where he phased. No one else had. Sam was most probably consoling Emily. Quil was in absolute mourning, as was the rest of the pack: Jared, Leah, Embry . . . everyone. Paul could not go to them right now, and so he ran. He just continued to run. He wasn't sure where he was going. All he knew was that he was out of La Push. He didn't know if he would ever come back. And while he was filled with guilt, he wouldn't admit that he was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode after already having given off mini explosions leading to destruction and devestation.

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_{Quotes spoken by Buddha, Marcus Aurelius & Jim Rohn respectively}

[Aro]

Challenge Nine: Butterfly Effect
What if Aro never met Sulpicia?

Power is All I Want and All I Need

Aro had always wanted power even as a human. Once changed his need for power grew. Two other vampires Marcus and Caius had joined with him. They wanted power just as him, but never as much as he did. Aro did change his sister in hopes that she would have some talent. Something useful it was not. The ability to make others happy was not good enough. Aro tried to use this power to his advantage when he was able to. However, Marcus fell in love with his sister. Something Aro did not mind, but become bothersome. Marcus would want to spend all his time with Didyme. When they needed to plan. They were going to overthrow the Romanians and gain the power and control they had over the vampire world. Over time Caius found a mate as well, Athenodora. Aro didn't really care if he never found a mate as long as he had power he would be happy.

Aro had succeed in overthrowing the Romanians. He did not leave any survivors. The leaders were killed as well. There was no point in allowing any of the Romanians stay around they may get ideas and try to overthrow them. Regain their power. That would never happen even if he had allowed the leaders to live.

Aro never had a need for anything else other than power. It was all he would ever crave. Why would he want anything else? Power was his only focus there was nothing else, nothing important enough. His guard gave him the power he craved and nothing would change that. Any who thought of leaving the Volturi were destroyed. He would keep his control, his power. His coven would be feared and everyone would know they would be destroyed if they broke the rules. They would not give second chances to anyone and never gave warnings.

Aro would not allow his sister, Didyme, to leave him he had killed her quickly. Hadn't given it a second chance and had been displeased with Marcus for some time. Marcus became emotionless not caring that Aro was angry with him. Which angered Aro even more he was thinking of leaving the Volturi something he could not have! Marcus never found out that Aro had killed Didyme. No one would know this there was no reason for anyone to know.

Aro could never understand what it was like personally to lose a mate for he did not have one. And would most likely never. Seeing how Marcus was changed after losing his Aro did not want to even think about one. He had seen both of his brothers change even if it was just a little. A change Aro did not want. His focus would not be divided. His attention was always on power and how he could gain more. He never let his thoughts get side-track from something as pathetic as a mate. It seemed to make you weaker, but happier it seemed as well. Thoughts best to remain gone. Power was all he needed and all he would ever want.