This Is How I Spent My Time: Twilight Fanfiction

Our Creative Writing teacher set us the homework of rewriting the end of a story, so I treated it with my usual seriousness and wrote an alternate ending for Breaking Dawn. To be honest, I much prefer my ending, but you can make your own judgments. Enjoy!


Then Bella woke up, and it was all just a dream.

Epilogue

‘Doctor, I’ve been having these dreams recently. I dreamt that I married a vampire, who ended up nearly killing me by getting me pregnant, and then I became a vampire, and then my werewolf best friend, who used to be in love with me, started lusting over my newly born child.’

The doctor looked sternly at the scrawny teenager. ‘Bella, tell me. This vampire, did he sparkle?’

‘Yes doctor. He did. In the sun he sparkled almost as much as the oversize engagement ring he gave me to show off his superior wealth.’

The doctor sighed, and looked away. It was a moment before he spoke again. ‘How long had he been seventeen in these dreams?’

‘A while, he said. I later learnt that he’d been seventeen ninety years. But he always treated me right, I never felt threatened. We had a connection, and we destroyed buildings, beds and pillows in showing it.’

The doctor shook his head, as if in horror, and seemed to struggle for something to say. ‘Don’t worry Bella; you’re not alone in this. Other people have suffered like you. Of course, many of such patients have been found with two puncture wounds in their necks, completely drained of blood, but each time it was ruled natural causes. You’re perfectly safe, vampires don’t exist in reality. Did he ever appear threatening to you?’

‘One time he told me to climb on his back, and he called me ‘spider monkey’, but I told him to stop objectifying me, and he never compared me to a monkey again.’

The doctor sucked in a breath. ‘It’s worse than I thought.’ His fingers drummed the highly polished marble of his desk as he attempted to process what he’d just heard.

‘He also ripped off another vampire’s head in front of me. But they were trying to kill me, so it was alright. I was also bitten on my arm.’

‘Can you show me?’ the doctor asked pleadingly.

The teenager pulled up her sleeve and the doctor winced in disgust. She’d certainly been bitten on her freakishly pale arms, he could tell, but not by a vampire. He made a mental note to prescribe her a flea remedy before she left. ‘There aren’t any marks… made by a vampire. You’re certainly not a vampire, so far as I can tell, either.’

‘Edward sucked the poison out of my arm, and his very wealthy and talented family took care of me after. He’s very noble.’

‘One of those.’ The doctor murmured, making a note in stereotypically awful writing.

‘Tell me what to do, doctor.’

He looked the strange looking girl straight in her bulging eyes. With her stringy black hair and living dead complexion, complete with a greenish tinge, she could well have been Samara from The Ring. ‘I’m going to write you a prescription for a great many pills, classify you as insane, and leave you to people who might actually care. Ok? Any questions?’

‘Uh…’

‘I’ll take that as a no. You should be glad that we’ve caught this now. Any later, and it’s likely that you’ll have been transformed into the main character of an intensely debauched novel called Fifty Shades of Grey, which would have been the foundation for other works bearing the categorisation of ‘mummy porn’ to crawl out of the woodwork. So. I won’t be seeing you later.’ The doctor waved goodbye as she lumbered out of his office, then locked it just to be sure.


This was just a little bit of fun, and a bit of a rebellion against being asked to write fanfiction. I was going to treat the work seriously, but then a friend suggested Twilight, and this came into being. It was also a bit of relief, as at the time it was written in between long pieces of coursework. It was only really for my benefit, but I hope that anyone reading it will also enjoy it. Feel free to let me know what you think!

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I Can’t Get No Sleep (Insomnia)

It’s five to two in the morning, I have work tomorrow, and I can’t sleep because my stomach hurts too much. I’ve had this before, quite often, and I’ve not been able to last it out without painkillers yet. However, two traxenamic acids and two ibuprofen later, and this pain won’t leave. The same thing happened last time as well, and was the first time that the painkillers had failed. I’m a little worried as to how strong the pain is  becoming, but, I don’t know, nothing I can really do. If it gets bad then I’ll see a doctor, something like that. My parents didn’t care when I woke them up to tell them, and whilst I know that there was nothing they could really do. Yes mother, I’m sure a hot water bottle would really help, however they are all in that locked cupboard downstairs, and you have the key. I’ll let myself out, shall I? I shouldn’t be annoyed, It was half one, but they’ve always told me to go see them no matter what time if my stomach hurts…

I’ve work tomorrow as well, and I’d have preferably gone in refreshed, as last week one of the owners said that we’d have to have words about my lack of motivation and camaraderie with my workmates. Because I wouldn’t smile. I work in a warehouse, no customer will ever see, and unlike I think everyone else at work, I actually really enjoy it there. And the lack of camaraderie? The person after me on the belt was struggling to keep up, so I had to price and pack. I had no time to laugh and joke around!! And then after giving blood, who was I face to face with but her! It wasn’t fun. I smiled as I said hello, and she immediately commented on it. But she gave us all kitkats with our drinks. I don’t know, do I like her, or do I despise her??

Rant over. It wasn’t intended to be a rant sorry, just a way of taking my mind off the pain that has now eased. Hallelujah. It was either this, or walk the dog, and so I let the dog sleep. Although it would have been less of a hassle, since I couldn’t find my laptop charger anywhere, and eventually had to wake my brother up in order to reclaim it. I’ve just bought both of the Portal games, so I’m looking forward to playing them.

I’m heading to bed now, as either the pills have kicked in, unlikely as I took them about two hours ago, or the pain has just stopped, like it is wont to do. I don’t care, as I have only four and a half hours left until I have to get up. Goodnight

I’ve Given Up On Work…

I gave up on work, so began to type up some of my prompt driven work from Creative Writing. Here’s one of them. Recently, our lessons have been led by a different person each class, and on our last such lesson the prompt was a drawing of an elderly man. I hope this is ok, I was challenged to use a different style of writing, so my descriptions may be a bit off…


Old Man Drawing Prompt

It’s as if he had been there always, and would always continue to be there, through the end of the last universe, to the beginning of the next. His clothes, covered in dirt and mould, seemed almost to have grown from the Earth herself in order to cover him and protect him. His mournful voice, creaking as the oldest of buildings, had the tendency to stop partway through a sentence, as if he was remembering history too big to be conveyed through words and hands, through pen and paper. His eyes shone with the blaze of the most fervent of believers, as though they had been replaced with suns. He believed. He was a beggar, only a beggar, yet still believed in his salvation. He held out a plastic cup, empty of coins, with a steady lined and spotted hand. It was said that the lines were the paths history might have taken, and the liver spots the worlds he had lived through. The length of his grey beard was reminiscent of those of the finest Kings and the care and quality of it equivalent to the hides of the mangiest curs. He’d been there through every birth and every death, and it was widely considered that he was an immortal being.

Until he stopped passing through the present, and consigned himself to the history he had lived through. People wondered if he’d been called back by God, if he’d gone to richer pickings. No one wondered at the mound of dirt beneath his degrading coat. He was only a beggar after all. And time passed on without him.


I have a friend whose descriptions are amazingly beautiful, so this was my attempt at seeing if I could write in such a style, especially since that friend had commented on my sticking to the one style. So I decided to challenge myself, and this time it wasn’t thinking of what to write about the prompt that was difficult, but instead trying to phrase some parts to make it more fitting for what I was trying to achieve. I really liked some of the descriptions, such as the quote ‘seemed almost to have grown from the Earth herself’, as it backed up what I really wanted to be a comment on contrasts within the story, such as the pagan and modern religious aspects in the story. Another similar point was the difference in the ‘steady lined and spotted hand’ which obviously shows both youth and age, especially since shaking hands is often seen in the elderly, though his are still. I’m waffling on a bit, but i quite liked how the story turned out, for twenty minutes of writing.

Short Story

I wrote a short story for Creative Writing a while ago, and I quite like it, so I’m putting it on here. If you like it or not, please let me know.


A Human Mountain

Come, I am working on a new painting. Do sit down. Oh, it is about humanity. It is about life and death. I have yet to finish it though, which will be why you are confused over this. What is my idea? I will let you know when I become aware myself. However, the focal point is most likely to be a mountain. That is what I can picture clearest. Well, many cultures see mountains as being holy, or sanctimonious, or as something other than they are. Ignoring the primitive nature of the worship, I am hoping to incorporate these elements into- Hush! I can see the ending, you need to be silent!

I watch the man work feverishly on his easel. They call him mad. I can understand that. Despite this, there is no greater delight to life than watching a genius at work, so I shall not talk. An ambiguous shape takes life upon the canvas; this must be the mountain he seems so fixated upon. He pauses for a moment. Mixes a new colour on his board. Applies the bloodcolour to the painting. It seems rather a strange colour for a mountain, yet I say nothing.

The mountain is the end and the beginning! What else better links earth and sky? So, if I see the earth as being the start, and the sky the end, can I see this as life in action? What do you think? Ah, no, you do not have the artist’s eye, you are right. Like Death, I shall have my mountain of bodies. Do not ask stupid questions, you will distract me. However, still talk to me. Talk to me as the painting nears its end. I shall not answer, but talk nonetheless.

He’s adding the bodies in the painting now. How is it that, at the start which is meant to be the start of life, they look more dead than at the end? Perhaps it portrays the ascendency into heaven. Suffering on earth, up to relief and enlightenment in the clouds. He has a truly brilliant mind. Many say he’s mad, that he claims he paints what a spirit tells him to. They are right about the madness. He never listens to my guidance.


For this short story I used a prompt, which was a painting showing people progressing up a mountain. For the piece I tried to put myself in the shoes of the painter, but like a stream of consciousness or dialogue from the two perspectives in the story. It made sense when I first wrote it, but it has been a while, so I don’t remember much of my reasoning towards it.

For the quote ‘like Death, I shall have my mountain of bodies’, I wondered if perhaps Death wasn’t a permanent position, but instead one that could be passed down as soon as the quota is hit. I pictured the amount of lives that each Death would have to take as increasing with each heir. Using this, natural disasters and killer diseases could be seen as an impatient Death trying to hasten their turn to be released from their duty, and the ‘mountain’ being a kind of record of where they are and how far they have left to go, height and width wise. I wrote a short story from the perspective of Death after this one, using another prompt, but the same idea of Death trying to reach a quota. If I can find it, and if it’s any good, I’ll put it on.

No Lessons Today

I’ve no lessons today, but I’ve a lot of work to do. I keep getting distracted though. I’ve never been good at staying focused, so when my friends turned up I decided to give up for the lunch time. They’ve gone now, and so it’s back to work with me. All the work I’ve to do are quite long pieces, so finding out that I’ve spent nearly an hour on a Twilight fanfiction for my creative writing teacher has just made me a little bit sad. I can’t leave either, because I have rugby training at the end of the day.

Hello

I am Alayia, and I have been coerced into creating a blog by my Creative Writing teacher. As have the rest of my class… So I’m going to grin and bear with, and see if this blog lasts any longer than the many other projects that I’ve started. If so then I hope you enjoy!

Thank you 🙂