*Thanks to americnxidiot for beta'ing away my (drunken) typos, and also brainstorming with me. Brainstorming kudos also goes to Jennyfly/Thallium81 (although I'm sorry, Jenny. Edward will not be joining the symphony). Next, I want to rec crackfic one-shots by two ladies, both for some inexplicable reason involving MPREG. Both are hilarious. First americnxidiot's crackpuppet In the Name of Science (under the name crackbabby--and yes, I have no qualms outting you, Ms. Idiot) and second, Inconceivable by gallantcorkscrews, which was featured in the slash contest--which is open for voting by the way! So, go vote! Then a final thanks to MeadowC for pimpin' this story on Twilightheaded. In other news, I've been working on my FGB prompt, and writing epilogues to PoP that I keep trashing.
Sorry I've been so slow to update... :-\
Bow-wow-wow Yipee-Yo Yippee-Yay. Seth needs to cut it with the bad rap...
Entry 8:
"When a dog barks at the moon, then it is religion; but when he barks at strangers, it is patriotism!" ~David Starr Jordan
The absurd event in Bella's bedroom left me reeling, and I felt like doing something odd and lupine to cope (like howling at the moon). That was, until I stepped out the front door. The wind was blowing from the west—and the smell that hit my nose made my insides freeze.
Diarrheal snow cone.
(At least that's what it smelled like to me.)
CRAZY RED-HAIRED STALKER VAMPIRE OUT TO GET BELLA!
So, I totally phased in a burst of t-shirt and jeans—and my final pair of sneakers (shit).
Then, I was after her.
I mean him.
He had blond hair.
CRAZY RED-HAIRED STALKER VAMPIRE HAS A COMPADRE!!!
I tried to get the others to come and help, but they were too far away.
No matter!
I chased him onwards!
HOOOOOWL.
But then something bad happened.
I was gaining on him, closer and closer.
But then he headed into town.
I was going to run him down.
But...
Jake! You cannot maul a vampire in downtown, Forks.
Wait for us, Jake! Wait for us!
And then the final voice—Sam's voice thundering through my mind and all of the others:
S-T-O-P.
So, I stopped.
And the vampire got away.
Alice (907-340-5298) to Jasper:
Where'd you go?
I could barely see you for 10 min there.
Were you were running?
Jasper (907-340-5260) to Alice:
Bella left and
her friend turned into Bigfoot.
Then he chased me.
Alice (907-340-5298)
...
Funny.
Jasper (907-340-5260)
Seriously.
I made an entry.
"16:24:49: At a complete loss... as male turns into large ugly beast."
Alice (907-340-5298)
What kind of ugly beast?
Jasper (907-340-5260)
Large, wolf-like, fast.
Definitely had a snout and a tail.
Alice (907-340-5298)
Hmmm....
I think it's the wolves that Carlisle
made the treaty with.
The Quileute.
Jasper (907-340-5260)
The most probable answer.
But why didn't you see me?
Alice (907-340-5298)
!!!
It makes sense, though, doesn't it?
THE WOLVES ARE WHY I CAN'T SEE!
They're why I can't see Bella!
She's been spending time with them!
It explains that cryptic email she sent!
Jasper (907-340-5260)
Huh.
Neat.
Right, so what's Bella doing now?
I think something's wrong with her.
Alice (907-340-5298)
She must be with a wolf.
I can't see her.
Jasper (907-340-5260)
Um, well, she didn't leave with the wolf.
And I didn't really see her when she left.
I think she was hiding?
Alice (907-340-5298)
Wait. I'm getting something.
Jasper (907-340-5260)
Waiting...?
Alice (907-340-5298)
There's something else with Bella...
Jasper (907-340-5260)
???
Alice (907-340-5298)
A vampire.
Jasper (907-340-5260)
Is it Edward?
Alice (907-340-5298)
No...
Jasper (907-340-5260)
Shiiiite.
Bella's e-Diary
By the time I clicked off the ignition on the truck, I was capable of admitting that my untimely discovery of the CD and photos had been... ill-borne, to say the least. I could accept that. But while I may have been nearing the end of my volcanic temper tantrum, I was not, as they say, "out of the woods" yet.
Rather, I was standing at the edge of them.
When you're alone, the woods always sound alive. In the Pacific Northwest, where we have a veritable "rain forest," there's always water moving, whether from the echo of distant streams or from rainwater collecting in leaves until it brims and the edges collapse and the water spills down onto lower branches, leaves, and the forest floor. The moss, which covers everything, muffles all the details, so that it just sounds like the slow swallowing of drink or the gurgling of a stomach. Creepy and alive. The rustle of the branches could pass for panting gasps. The chirps of the birds and buzz-buzz of insects might sound like whispers and hints. Then there's the smell. It smells like mold, but not in a bad way. It smells like life is keeping ahead of the mold. Like something can't even die before it's eaten and digested and starts growing again.
I entered this breathing forest.
I wasn't really invisible anymore. The effects of my earlier bag of blood had mostly faded, and I stumbled ahead as a ghostly specter—half there and half not—which in this situation was metaphorically literal.
I stumbled more than once, and sharp pebbles cut into my knee caps as I righted myself and pushed ahead.
I had been there before—with Jacob—but getting there again seemed impossible.
I followed instinct—ignoring my fears but ducking beneath low tangles of vines and forcing myself over each new piling of boulders.
When the sweltering green suddenly vanished, I found myself in the meadow. Open air and the sudden cooling of my sweat on my cheeks and forehead hit me first. When I fell into the long, silty blades of grass, I tasted my tears mixing with the dirt and saliva and sweat.
At some point, I fell back, my hair splaying among the grass and ferns, which tickled and itched at my scalp. I searched the sky, looking for something distinctive, but only found the gray blanket of clouds. Shapeless and without intention.
That was, until I saw a pair of red eyes suddenly looking down at me.
I studied them for a moment, at first happily lost in the milky contrast of the diamond skin to the bloody threat held in the irises. But then the swaying black hair drew my attention, and I asked as a question, "Laurent?"
"Yes."
"It is you."
"It is."
"Are you thirsty?"
"Yes." His eyes gleamed.
I should have felt fear, I realized, but instead I felt a strange kinship.
He couldn't help what he was, just as I couldn't help my own personal pretzel. "Would you like to share a baggie?" I offered, and I reached into my bag and pulled out a plastic bio hazard bag.
He stared at me for a moment, his eyes disbelieving, before his expression cleared and he asked, "What kind is it?"
"Type, you mean?"
"Yes."
"AB-Negative."
"Oh good," he agreed with cheer.
I gave him my baggie, which he ripped open and squeezed so that a bit of it pooled in his outstretched tongue. I relaxed when he plopped down beside me, drinking with swift satisfaction. His throat shivered as he drank, and I shivered too, though not out of fear.
When he was done, I glared rather sullenly at the empty bag and muttered, "You killed it."
He laughed (a tad hysterically).
I said, "It's okay. I have another one."
I did. A-positive, I tore with my teeth and drank.
When I set down my bag, he was staring at me, jaw dropped.
"What?" I asked, setting my bag before him so that he could finish it off.
He didn't say anything. He just looked from me to the baggie.
"What?" I asked again.
"I'm not sure where to start. First, you drank... blood. You're a human—and yet you— Then, I can hear you. I can smell you. I can almost taste you, but I can't see you," and then he extended his hand. His cool fingers hurt as they bruised my shoulder—his swift movements too rough.
"I'm here," I insisted. My voice was almost petulant as I tried to ignore the pain.
"I can smell you bruising."
"You just smell like nice cologne."
He laughed again. "You are special. A blood-drinking, disappearing human girl."
I rolled my eyes, which I realized he couldn't see, so I muttered, "Glad to know someone thinks I'm special."
"What?" he blinked as if coming back to reality.
"I hate men—sorry—no offense."
Laurent's face clouded, and I'd have almost said he looked saddened, except that then his face tensed, and his fist smacked the earth, sending out reverberations that made both me and the surrounding firs tremble with the force of it. "I hate men, too," he declared.
"Didn't you hook up with one of the Denali sisters?" I asked in confusion.
Laurent turned to me, his eyes seeming to triangulate to mine by smell more than sight. "I did—Irina, but..."
"But?" I urged him.
"But I realized something."
"Realized what?"
Laurent sighed before dipping his head between his knees and fisting his hair. "I realize that she wasn't the one for me."
"Ah."
"Yes. 'Ah.'" He made air quotes.
"Well, uh, did you find out who is?"
"Perhaps," he breathed out through the side of his mouth.
"Not to be a total bore, but 'perhaps' is not real specific—sorta like 'Ah' or whatever."
"MEN!" he exclaimed. "I liked... I mean, ugh, I mean I like phalluses." Laurent ducked his head between his knees again.
"Phalli?"
"Cocks, " he waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I like phalli, too, 'specially the icy sparkly ones."
Laurent snorted, before asking, "But I thought you hated men?"
"I should be specific. My vampire man left me."
Laurent rolled his eyes again. "No, he didn't."
His retort annoyed me. "Yes, I think he very much did."
"Vampires can't leave their mates—not really," and then his head suddenly jerked up as he scanned around the meadow, as if looking for Edward under a bush.
"Well, I haven't seen the asswipe in six months." I sighed.
"He'll be back," Laurent insisted. "It's the nature of the beast," and with that rather retarded pronouncement, he threw his head back and laughed.
I frowned at him. He'd spilled his guts, and I hadn't laughed.
He seemed to sense my discomfort though as he smiled and said, "Oh, we scorned ones, what desperate lives we lead."
"Indeed," I concurred, and I could hear the sadness returning to his voice, so I reached into my bag again. "Do you prefer positive or negative?" I asked in my most comforting tone.
His head perked up. "Do you have any A-negative?"
"I do." I handed him the bag with a soft smile.
"Oh, goooood," he hissed rapturously. "It is my absolute favorite."