William Stakemann: and the Bloody Drama next door
(Aka Twilight- from the viewpoint of begrudged and annoyed neighbour William 'Bill' Stakemann)
Author of parody- BlueClothBandit
AN: Hi all, so recently the news that Stephanie Myer is releasing a book from Edwards POV about the events in the original twilight novel. The news came onto social media this week, and I saw this news on Buzzfeed geeky.
I suggested in the comments (as a joke) that we should have a book based on the POV of Bill, widowed, a 75yr old neighbour, who lives next door to the Cullens, who forever has to pick up ripped up clothing in his garden, and he ain't best pleased about it... like a wee bit pissed off!
My comment got 130 likes, so me being me, I wrote the start of this idea when I couldn't sleep one night...(bad sleep. my feature to this lockdown!)
Below, is that write up in all its glory. I hope you like it!
Any feedback is cool by me, but this was done in good humour to the original novels, so please dont take this too much as a snub to people who like the twilight saga. I'm not the all knowing die-hard fan, but I figured I'd see what came out of my brain.
:) Enjoy!
Chapter One (Version 1)
The proud indignation of Forks Folk.
I'D NEVER GIVEN MUCH THOUGHT TO HOW I WOULD DIE—though I'd had no reason to contemplate it in the last few months—but even if I had, I would have imagined, it could still include the begrudging daily clean up of my garden.
My names William A Stakemann, most people call me Bill. I'm 75 years old and I'm a proud resident. I'm Forks through and through. My family have lived here in Forks, Washington for a couple of generations now. I like the fact that people in Forks; they know people, you know!
Here we have our amenities to hand. Lots of privacy, a few local liquor establishments, and the thruway for your weekly shopping. Our town is a small self-contained community, full of pride and respect for our neighbours. We don't need anyone but us-selves, and up till recent events, Forks was pretty quiet and a content haven for likeminded people. Such as myself.
Let's put it this way. The city folk wouldn't like it here. It rains 99% of the year and when it's not raining. Its overcast, drizzling and cold.
But the weather's a positive. Really, it is!
It's consistent, reliable, and you know it suits us folks of Forks well.I was never really into sunbathing, and all that vanity you see on the telly-box. Places like Florida. Are just filled with city kids, with their tech, and their corporate mumbo jumbo...Sod that!
I want no part of it, that rat race.
The simple life... never much more, than to observe and enjoy the tranquillity? Well give me Forks any day! I'm proud of the simple things in life. Me and the wife. God bless her soul (referred to from this point as gbhs). We were happy here. We were raised here us-selves, and raised our own here. That's why the recent events are so hard to digest.
I'll never forget, the beginning of the downfall of this town though. I believed It coincided with our family's biggest tragedy.
I'm a widower see. I lost my wife, Blanche (gbhs), just over two year ago.
Oh, Blanche (gbhs).
What a savage attack it was. Such a loss with no warning. Even now, it pains me to recall the events. I find it all so hard to believe.
Loosing you Blanche, (gbhs) happened so quickly. Nobody saw the gruesome details.
I just hope it was a painless end for her. My Blanche, (gbhs) She was a good wife. She did us well. She deserved better then to go to the mailbox one dark winters morning, and suddenly be wiped out of existence!
They said it was Wild dogs!?
Wild dogs, here... at Forks...My arse!
Like wild dogs just came to visit! Randomly, like there was a touring company of wild dogs! Just, you know passing by! Like they were visiting the sights of Forks, god!
How dumb... Like they were on their 'wild dog pilgrimage tours'! Saw my beloved Blanche (gbhs), going to check the mailbox, and thought to themselves. 'Oh no! we missed breakfast! Perhaps we should partake of this woman here, and vanish leaving no evidence, or sighting of our presence!'
Yeah. Like I said. Wild dogs? My arse!
I think the authorities of late, are too quick to write things off, rather than look into things. It's all about money these days, you know? Easier to blame 'so called' rabid animals, then help a bereaved family get closure! Rabid animals, they don't cost tax payers money!
Charlie Swan, the police chief. They dumped him with telling us. God, I remember it so clearly, Chief Swan, saying the words out loud to me. He looked like he didn't believe them either.
Poor man. He's got enough on his plate; his wife ran off to the sunshine and the company of many men. He's one of only a few police that watch over this town, and to top it off he has to put up with his moody daughter now.
His Daughter? Yeah, she's come back into town recently. Ran off from his very cruel ex-wife, but the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree there, as she's... well, let's just say she's brought Charlie no joy. She's really something.
Yea! Very pleasant!
Isabella, that's her name. Oh, I feel so bad for Charlie! He really lucked out with that kid. I know Charlie don't smile that much, thinking about he's a very salt-of-the-earth kind of man, a Forks man. He's real, dependable, and kind hearted, as a long-standing Forks resident. He's a good egg. You know where you stand with Charlie Swan.
But his daughter!
She has a face on her like a bulldog chewed a wasp!
That's what she greets you with! It's like she's the poster child for moping! I mean cheer up love! It isn't that bad here in Forks!
I know how much he really wants Isabella to like it here. Charlie is really trying his dam hardest to make her feel welcomed. But the brat is continuing with the 'I don't want to be here' attitude, and that attitude is getting really old, real fast! She's testing the patience of us Forks folk, looking down her nose, and sighing, I once swore that she rolled her eyes, when Charlie took her to visit the local tavern. If she was my child!? She would have had a tanned behind for that disrespect!
You may think I'm being harsh here, but no matter what Chief Swan does, 'Isabratta' (as I have coined her now) makes it clear that Forks isn't up to her high and mighty standards. I mean, after us townsfolk giving her a welcome; one step short of having a ticker tape parade in her honour!
'Bella' (as she keeps whining to call her) has been nothing short of ungrateful in return.
She just gorpes at you, mouth open with this vacant expression! When attempting any conversation with her! (I'm sometimes surprised she doesn't start to drool!)
Everyone's given up trying to be nice now. someone needs to smack some manners into that child quite frankly! If Charlie wasn't police, I'd have half a mind to do it myself. Impertinent child! The whole look she does, when you speak to her is nothing short of infuriating! It must be clear that this girl just irks me the wrong way!
She does this look you see; it's a 'Gaping mouth open. Waiting for flies to land' look, like her brain went out for lunch, because she's bored of you...
She clearly gets that from her mother! (I call her runaway bride; Charlie really needs a break!) I wish Charlie would tell her, Isabratta, that well, it isn't becoming of a young lady to gorpe! He probably should do sooner or later, because between you and me, one of the locals will say something to her, and I swear when that happens, it won't be with her finer feelings in mind!
Bagh! The youth of today are abysmal. I'm glad I raised mine better! You would never catch our Willis and Betty being so disrespectful.
However, I feel that despite my dislike of Isabella, and her particular brand of rudeness. There have been more pressing matters at hand. Or more importantly, being picked up by my hands. Too regularly for my liking.
Rags. Yes rags. All over my garden, every day. On my lawn, a-top my begonias! And I can't prove it!
But so-help-me-god! I know, that them-Cullens next door have something to do with it!
The Cullens, you think I went on about 'Isabratta?' well here comes my take, on the never-ending question mark, that is- the Cullens.
I am the unfortunate neighbour of this family of rather odd looking Cullen's, seven of them I believe; live in the rather large property near to mine.
I remember them just appearing one day. No moving van, no introductions. I can't remember seeing tyre tracks to the home for any deliveries, I don't know if that house had been worked on before their arrival. I mean, that house they now live in, it had been abandoned for some time. As long as me and my beloved have been at this residence, the nearby property had been empty. You would have at least expected to see someone, prior to their arrival, to, you know, check the property. Even just to see if it was fit for purpose?! Their arrival alone leaves a man with a lot of questions, see what I mean? Now imagine living next to them! The plot thickens!
As you can guess. It was a shock when, we went from no neighbours after years, to having the Cullen's. It was like they arrived; materialising from thin air!
Wait. Ah, come to think about it. I lied.
We actually did have one introduction from them! But it was the week following their arrival, I must have forgotten about it. You'll have to excuse that, but it feels a long time ago now, yet it really isn't.
The introduction, it happened one evening. As we were finishing up a light supper. I commented that someone was at the house next door. My Blanche (grhs) agreed, she replied that 'she believed we had neighbours'
And then, from nowhere, and if I didn't know it wasn't possible, it was almost a response to my beloved's statement. There was a firm and clear knock at the door.
Unsure, and strangely apprehensive, I answered the door.
Upon doing so, there had been stood, a pale gentleman. He had the most unusual hue to his skin. It stood out so much to me on first glance, it would have made anyone double take. He was so pale, too pale, even for Forks, were most of us folk don't look like Hasselhoff brown, this man stood at my door. I could swear, his skin looked translucent! Tall, poised as though his grandeur was to be beholden. His eyes were golden, and his hair was so thick and well groomed. Ha! He definitely wasn't from around here, that's for certain. I placed a bet at that time to myself, that he wasn't an American in-fact.
Standing at my door, this well dressed, pale, and composed gentleman, was holding a gift for us. His new, and previously oblivious to their existence; neighbours.
Maybe where he was from, a bushel of apples in an ornate basket, wrapped in decorative golden wrapping, was the standard gift to send. Truth be told, a six pack of beer would have been a more acceptable choice in my opinion.
And this was my first meeting with the gent soon to introduce himself as Doctor Carlisle Cullen.