Wuthering Forks, a twilight fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, it belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Wuthering Heights is public domain, but it was written by Emily Bronte.

Being a delightful albeit brief parody of the novel Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.

I endeavored to pull my arm away, but the little, ice-cold hand clung to it! 'Let me in- let me in!' sobbed a most melancholy voice.

'Who are you?' I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. 'Bella Cullen,' it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of Cullen? I had read Swan twenty times for Cullen)- 'I'm come home, I'd wrecked my Volvo on the way back to Forks!'

As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a rather plain face looking through the window, lips apart and breathing through its mouth. 'Begone!' I shouted. 'I'll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years.'

'It is twenty years,' mourned the voice: 'twenty years. I've been a vampire for twenty years!'

I tried to jump up; but could not stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in a frenzy of fright. Hasty footsteps approached my chamber door; somebody pushed it open, with a vigorous hand, and a light glimmered through the squares at the top of the bed. At last, the intruder said, in a half-whisper, not expecting an answer, 'Is any one here?' I considered it best to confess my presence, for I knew Jacob Black's accents, and feared he might search further, if I kept quiet.

Jacob Black stood near the entrance, in trousers but no shirt, as was his custom; with a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. 'It is only your guest, sir,' I called out. 'I had the misfortune to scream in my sleep, owing to a frightful nightmare. I'm sorry I disturbed you.'

'Oh, God confound you, Mr. Potter! I wish you were at the-' commenced my host. 'And who showed you up into this room?' he continued, crushing his wickedly long nails- so like claws- into his palms, and grinding his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions. 'Who was it? I've a good mind to turn them out the house this moment?'

'It was your young wife, Renee or Esme or Reneesme or whatever she is called,' I replied. 'I suppose that she wanted to get another proof that the place was haunted, at my expense. Well, it is- swarming with vampires and werewolves! If the little fiend had got in the window, she probably would have strangled me! That minx, Bella Cullen, or Swan, or however she was called. She told me she had been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her obnoxious personality, I've no doubt!'

Scarcely were these words uttered when I recollected the association of Jacob Black's with Bella's in the diary, which had completely slipped from my memory, till thus awakened.

'What can you mean by talking in this way to me!' thundered Jacob Black with savage vehemence. 'How- how dare you, under my roof?- God! She's mad to speak so!' And he let out a wolf-like howl with rage.

I quit the chamber for fear of my own safety, but, ignorant where the narrow lobbies led, I stood still, and was witness, involuntarily, to a most awkward scene. My landlord got on to the bed, and wrenched open the lattice, bursting, as he pulled at it, into an uncontrollable passion of tears. 'Come in! come in!' he sobbed. 'Bella, do come. Oh, do- once more! Oh! My heart's darling! Hear me this time, Bella, at last!'

Light footsteps approached from the darkness of the hall; I hid inside a doorway to avoid further embarrassment. My landlord's pretty young wife, exquisite in her beauty but frightening in her pallor, approached her roaring, hulking husband. 'I do wish you would quit your endless pining for my mother,' she exclaimed petulantly. 'You took me to be your wife, when all you wished for was her!'

From my hiding place in the hall I heard my landlord give another fierce roar, and then the sharp clatter of glass. I dashed into the chamber to see Jacob Black gone, and Renesawhatsit standing in the centre of the vacated room, quite unalarmed. 'My heavens, he shall be killed!' I cried.

'Do not concern yourself,' she said. 'My husband is a werewolf. Very little harms him.'

She turned towards me and picked up the discarded candle. I was forced to draw up my arm over my eyes, as her whitened skin began to sparkle and glitter like a pirate's treasure trove. "Would you like to hear the story of my mother's most unusual romantic life?' she inquired.

'I have a feeling I have no choice in this matter,' I said, and she began her tale.

-----

My mother was a most boring girl. She was considered to be plain and clumsy, and her personality was to be found most dull. Her father was a constable in the small town of Forks, in Oregon, and she was sent to live with him at the age of sixteen. It was then that she met a certain young man by the name of Jacob Black.

They had been friends since their childhoods, as their fathers were friends before them. Many a jolly romp was spent together, and their fathers began to speculate on a future match between them. But all these plans went quite awry on the occasion that Bella, while strolling through the car park, was nearly struck and killed. Indeed, she would have been quite a goner were it not from a most irregular rescuer.

He was pale, quite pale, and yet his skin shone like dew on moorgrass. He spoke little, but made expressions of utmost anguish and angst towards my mother, who was then a most impressionable girl of sixteen. She fell quite madly in love with him, though he was silent and spent much of his time staring at her through her bedroom window, which would have frightened away most demure maidens.

However, this young man, this Edward Cullen, was one of those that must drink the blood of mortals to survive. He suffered much agony over my mother and his desire both for her love and for her lifeblood, and made the decision that he should leave her. Bella was most distressed, and wept and carried on in ways most unbecoming for a young lady. She nursed her grief by spending time in the company of her childhood companion, Jacob Black. The diversion amused her, and Jacob was pleased.

As they progressed on that happy way to the altar, two complications arose that proved most distressing. Firstly, it was revealed to Bella that Jacob was cursed to take the frightful shape of a wolf. Secondly, Edward returned, and declared his passionate love for my mother.

Bella was most distraught, torn as she was between two men, such as they were. It took much deliberation and much arguing amidst the two gentlemen, but at long last she selected Edward Cullen to be her husband. I still wonder why she was at the centre of their dispute- she was bland, dull, and simpering, as well as quite unattractive.

Jacob plunged in a deep and dark sadness while Bella and Edward celebrated their union. My mother, in the silliness of her youth, begged to become a vampire as well, but Edward refused. Their union produced me, an unearthly combination of both mortal and immortal. My birth killed my mortal mother, which brought both Jacob and Edward together in their mourning.

My father, lost as he was without my mother, raised as well as any widower could. I spent much time on the moors, doing as I pleased. It was there that I met Jacob Black, and I found myself swooning in his presence. We were wed shortly after, and it was only then that I realized that he made me his wife only for the slim resemblance I bear to my mother.

Edward has wandered the moors for many a year, coming and going as he pleases. I imagine he mourns my mother, though I do not understand why. I stay here with my husband, living in the knowledge that it is not me whom he loves, but my silly dead mother.

-----

I squinted into the firelight as my charming hostess finished her tale. 'I am not sure if I understand correctly,' I began, as I removed my spectacles and polished them against my cuff. 'Your vampires are moody, dreamy-eyed men who sparkle in the sunlight?'

'That is correct,' she said, her own milky face glimmering in the warmth of the fire.

'And your werewolves are whiny gentlemen with propensities towards walking about half-dressed,' I continued.

'It is as you say, Mr. Potter,' she nodded.

'Why, where I come from, vampires are fearsome creatures, and werewolves maintain a power frightening and hideous to behold,' I said, 'though they give lovely chocolate while in their human shape.'

'Chocolate?'

'Never mind, never mind,' I said. I caught a glimpse of the diary that had once belonged to Miss Swan, or Mistress Cullen, or whatever her name had been. 'I should remember, on future occasions, to refrain from reading strange diaries. The last time I did so, it released a most wretched evil.'

Young Mistress Black lifted the diary from the table. 'Then let us prevent a second happening,' she said, and with excellent aim she threw the fat black-covered book into the fire.

Author's Notes:

I had to write a pastiche of Wuthering Heights for my English Novel class (I'm a senior in college and graduating in a few days). I scraped together what I remembered from dragging through the terrible Twilight books and came up with this. Personally, it makes me giggle.

I'm going to giggle when I get flames. Bring it on, baby! I had fun writing this, and I'm not ashamed.