Low Tide In Twilight Novels & Stories

All of it told Sarah that the piece of human leg she was seeing wasn't fake. Sarah gasped for air, the flashlight slid off from her fingers. She falls back, gasping and wheezing as she stumbles backward, her widening eyes staring directly to the leg that became more visible because of the flashlight harboring it. Only then did she manage to let out a scream.

We emerged into the vast expanse of the ocean, where the gentle waves lapped playfully at our feet, their cool touch a refreshing balm against the heat. The tide still lingered at a miraculously low point, revealing the soft, grainy sand beneath us where little fish moved with speed through the water. I glanced up at the sun, its golden rays beginning to dip towards the horizon—four p.m. or later, I guessed—a stark reminder that time was slipping away, making way for an evening of darkness, the same evening I prayed for just an hour or so ago.

The sky was ablaze with colors reflecting off the calm sea as the day gave way to twilight. Tyler poured them each a glass of champagne, his eyes twinkling as he handed one to her. “To us,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. Emily smiled, clinking her glass against his. “To us.” They sipped their champagne in comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a trail of fading light. The stars began to appear one by one, twinkling in the vast expanse of the night sky, and Emily felt a sense of peace settle over her.

She could see the relief on his handsome face, as if her willingness to talk had allowed him to breathe easier. “Ten minutes, Gavin,” she told him. “Can’t we make it thirty?” he asked hopefully. She glanced towards the sea. When she turned back to Gavin, she said, “It’s not possible. High tide is approaching.” She also looked at the tent he set up. It might get reached by the water later. But maybe he would move it to a higher part of the island, so she didn’t ask Gavin about it anymore. “It’s better to take advantage of the sea journey while it’s still low tide.”

The twilight ceremony was only a few hours away. I was both nervous and excited. It was my first time experiencing the twilight ceremony. The anticipation, the magic of it all, stirred something inside me, a desire to be part of that ethereal, sacred moment. The ceremony, the way people spoke of it, seemed like something out of a dream. Everyone said it would be transformative, a moment to feel connected to the universe, the moon, and to one another. I had always wanted to take part, to join in that shared experience under the soft glow of twilight, but now, the reality of it felt more complicated.

My mind was already racing with all the possibilities—pale, bloodthirsty creatures lurking in the shadows, waiting for an unsuspecting snack. Caleb laughed, a rich, warm sound that somehow made me feel like I’d just said the most ridiculous thing imaginable. “Relax,” he said, shaking his head. “There aren’t any around here. And do you want to know why? Because the one thing Twilight actually got right is that they love cold, wet places with minimal sunlight. Basically, the Pacific Northwest, not…sunny Maine.” I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, rolling my eyes at the way he brushed it off like it was nothing.

"Take me to her! Take me to her!" The car sped all the way to the shore. On the beach, a human-shaped figure lay beneath a white sheet. Supported by his assistant, Lucian stumbled out of the car. He took a few steps forward, staring at the sheet, and could go no further. He turned to Damon. "That’s not Iris, right? She’s just angry at me and had someone lie there to trick me, right?" Damon said nothing. He lifted the sheet, revealing my face. Perhaps because the seawater had been so cold, even after soaking for so long, my face hadn’t swollen and only turned an unnatural color.

TWILIGHT CREPT UP FROM THE OCEAN AND OVER THE CLIFFS with purple impatience that stained the walls of Dalkeith a dusky crimson. In his study, Hawk watched the night seep through the open doors on the west end. She stood on the cliff's edge, unmoving, her velvet cape tossing restlessly in the wind. What was she thinking as she gazed blindly out to sea?

ELENA The final rays of the evening sun sank behind the jagged peaks of the Southern ridge, throwing the sprawling valley into an ominous, blood-red shadow. Through the massive glass-domed pavilion of the eastern conservatory wing, the cascading waterfalls no longer looked turquoise; they ran like a river of thick, glowing crimson, catching the initial light of the rising blood moon. The clock struck nine. Three hours remaining until the midnight apex.

Twilight wrapped around the vacation house like a veil of dark velvet, sliding over the roof tiles, creeping along the ocher walls, softening the angular contours of furniture and faces until they melted into a complicit twilight. But this softness of fading light did nothing to diminish the tension in the air that dull electricity that precedes storms, when the atmosphere becomes so heavy you could cut it with a knife. Sofia had just returned from her outing to the beach with Ellie and her friends.