Notes: Chapter One, First Sight

I'd like to first remind people that I am reading this as I go - straight copy-editing, mostly because if I indulge in a project that forces me to read an unedited version of Twilight more than once I am likely to go insane. So I don't know anything about this book, except that there are vampires, and that they are really obviously vampires, and one of them needs to stop glaring at pretty girls he likes like he's going to cut their throats and leave them in a ditch somewhere.

I held on to as much information as I could while still hacking and slashing at everything I could find to hack and slash. It's not a full fix and it's not close to the 30% that needs to be lopped off for this to be tight writing, but I don't want to lose anything that might be important for internal consistency later.

Things I noticed:

• Bella's character is unnaturally gifted and privileged. I played up the brains angle quite a bit because I liked the personality points it gives her, but aside from low self-esteem there's really nothing wrong with her. She's pretty, everyone likes her, her family adores her, and Edward loves her so much that he hates her, or something? Maybe they are some kind of super-Kismesis, destined for a glorious D/S relationship the likes of which the world has never seen. I'm not actually sure who's D and who's S in this situation - but she has first-world problems, is what I'm saying. I did a lot of mitigating on her horridness to other characters, portraying it as unintentional or an inability to react the way she wants to due to being a bit damaged. But I will want to play up that damage and the event in her past that led her to Forks if I have any hope of making her a redeemable character.

• The Thing is the most likeable character in the book so far.

• It actually does feel like a pretty reasonable reaction to me to not care about the colossal amount of people that want to be friends with you because you are a pretty girl. I write Bella channeling Melinda Sordino because that's what I know how to write best, but she's smart and pretty and her only damage comes from some source which I haven't seen yet and which may not even be all that important.

• My favorite moment this chapter is the point where Edward is leaning away from her and her immediate reaction is to smell her hair. This is just picturesque high school insecurity, and kind of charming insecurity at that.

First Sight, Part 7

Mr Banner signed my slip and handed me a book over the desk, not even looking up from his attendance sheet. I could tell we were going to get along.

There was one open seat- in the middle of the room, just left of Edward Cullen. I kept my eyes down on the way back, avoiding that furious gaze. As I sat down, he shifted in his seat, leaning away from me, face averted like he'd smelled something awful.

Surreptitiously, I pulled a strand of hair up to my nose and sniffed it. Strawberry shampoo. Nothing wrong there. I pulled the rest of it over my shoulder, making a nice dark curtain between us.

The lecture was cellular anatomy, something I'd studied last year - but I kept good notes anyways, grateful for the excuse to stare at my desk. Through the parts in my hair I could see Edwards fist clenched under his desk, tendons standing out under pale skin. From the muscles standing out in his forearm he wasn't nearly as slight as he seemed next to his hulk of a brother. But his arm never relaxed, not once.

The class dragged on, neither of us breathing. I started to wish I'd been a little sweeter towards Jessica and her sour grapes. Clearly she hadn't been as resentful as I thought. But it couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't even know me.

I pulled back my hair and immediately regretted it. He was glaring again, black eyes full of revulsion. I shrunk back down into my chair. If looks could kill...

I jumped a little as the bell rang, and Edward Cullen rose fluidly out of his seat, back to me, and slid out the door before the teacher could call out the homework. I gathered up my things slowly, throat catching, vision blurring a little. He hated me. And I had no idea why.

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a voice asked.

I looked up and saw a boy - cute, baby-faced, pale blonde hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling hopefully at me.

"Bella," I corrected him, smiling back. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad.

"Hi, Bella. I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike."

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"Um, I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."

"Hey, that's my next class too. Can I walk with you?"

Company? I kind of just wanted to cry. "Sure."

Mike was chatty. He supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California until he was ten, so we shared some nostalgia over the sun we'd never see again. He'd seen me in my English class, too. The nicest boy I'd met today - and everyone, except Edward, had been nice.

"So, did you stab Edward Cullen or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed, playing dumb. "The boy I sat next to in Bio?"

"Yeah. He looked like he was in pain or something."

That wasn't quite how I'd seen it. "I don't know. I never spoke to him."

"Well, he's a weird guy. If I'd been lucky enough to sit by you, I'd have talked to you."

I smiled at him as we entered the gym, but couldn't really find any words.

Here in Forks, P.E. is mandatory, all four years. You'd think that if you had the sense to eat healthy and exercise you could spend those credits on something useful, but Forks High believes in adequately preparing you for any situation, Hell on Earth included. The coach - Coach Clapp, or "The Clapp" depending on who you asked - spent the first half of class finding me a uniform but mercifully didn't make me dress down for the rest of it. I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously, remembering all of the injuries I had sustained - and inflicted - playing back home. I wanted to vomit.

The final bell rang at last, and I trudged back to the office with my slip in hand. The rain had subsided, but cold winds tugged at my coat and I drew my arms up in spite of myself. The office door gave off a blast of warm air as I pulled it open, but I stood there a moment, processing the scene in front of me.

Edward Cullen was standing at the desk in front of me, arguing with the receptionist in a low, attractive voice. He didn't appear to have noticed me. Briefly I considered walking out, but survival instincts took hold and ferried me into the warm room.

I listened for a moment, picking up the gist of the conversation. He was trying to trade his sixth hour Bio to another time - any other time would do. The receptionist wasn't having it.

This was about me. Why was this about me? I coughed, and Edward Cullen's back stiffened, drawing himself up from the desk, turning to face me. He was surprisingly tall - and freakishly handsome, too, if you ignored the cold black glare he was giving me. I suddenly felt a little colder. He turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then." he said, voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And then he was gone.

I went meekly to the desk, handing her the signed slip.

"And how did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked, suddenly maternal.

"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.

My truck was still the only car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring blankly out the window. Eventually the cold won out over the quiet, and I turned the key and let the engine roar to life. I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting tears the whole way.

"That must be pretty hard - taking care of all of those kids like that."

"I guess. Mrs. Cullen can't have kids of her own, I think, so maybe she likes it."

"Have they always lived in Forks?" How could I have missed them?

"No," Jessica said, "They just moved down two years ago from Alaska."

Stepping up in the world, then. As I stared, the youngest of the group, one of the Cullens, finally met my gaze. I looked away, focusing back on my food.

"What's the name of the one with the reddish brown hair?" I said. From the corner of my eye I could tell he was still staring at me, looking frustrated with something.

"The gorgeous one, you mean? That's Edward. I wouldn't waste your time, he doesn't date." She sniffed, her voice suddenly colder, and I detected the faint aroma of sour grapes. "Why are you smiling?"

"Was I?" I looked away, back in the direction of the boy. He'd returned to the Cullen family pastime of staring at the wall, but from my angle it almost looked like he was smiling too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. All of them moved like poetry in motion, even the biggest, and people unconsciously parted around them as they walked. It was unsettling to watch.

Jessica roped a mousy girl named Angela into walking me to Biology II. We walked together in silence - she was too shy to ask a question, if curious like the rest of them. When we entered the classroom she shuffled off to a black topped lab table to sit next to a similarly mousy-looking friend.

All of the seats were filled but one, next to the center aisle. Edward Cullen sat next to it, his unusual hair marking him out to me though his back was turned.

As I walked down the aisle to get my slip signed, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with a hostile, furious expression. His eyes were black - coal black. I looked away, going red again, and stumbled over a book in the walkway, grabbing a table for balance. The girl sitting there giggled.

1. First Sight, pt 5

They were huddled in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from me and anyone else as possible.  There were five of them, none of them talking or eating or staring at me, which seemed to be the three things that were done in the Forks High lunch room.

They had little in common.  Of the three boys, one was big and muscular, with dark and curly hair.  Another, tall and lean and honey blond, with sharper edges.  The third was lanky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair - more boyish than the others, who looked like they could have been teachers as much as students.

The girls were polar opposites.  The tall one was statuesque, with a figure that made very girl around her suddenly a bit more self-conscious, and golden hair that fell in gentle waves down the middle of her back.  The other was short and pixielike, thin in the extreme, with smaller, unassuming features and short-cropped, deep black hair that stuck out in every direction.

But for all their differences, there was no doubt that they were somehow cropped together, with a resemblance that was almost familial.  Every one was chalky pale even for this sunless town - paler than me, part albino.  All of their eyes were dark and sallow, bruiselike shadows causing them to sink into their faces - like none of them had slept in weeks.  And all of their features were straight, strong, angular. Their faces, for all their differences, were all inhumanly beautiful, the kind you'd never expect to see without taking an airbrush to a fashion model or painting angels on marble walls.

I couldn't look away.

None of them looked at each other, or at anyone else in the room.  I saw no movement at all from them until the pixie rose with her tray and loped away with a sudden catlike grace, dumping her tray and vanishing out the back door without a sound.  The only sign she had ever been there was an unbitten apple and an unopened soda, left at the far end of one of the tables waiting for another student to come along and collect it.
My eyes darted back to the others, who sat, unchanging.

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from Spanish, whose curly hair bobbled as she looked up from her lunch to see.  As if he'd heard me, the younger one looked up, eyes flickering towards me.  I dropped my eyes at once, but not before his gaze flickered over me like I held nothing of interest to him at all.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale," she said under her breath, as though brewing a dark conspiracy.  "I think Alice Cullen just left.  They all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife."

I glanced sideways at the thinner, boyish one, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers.  His lips were moving quietly, as though he were speaking to the other three, who continued to ignore him and everyone else in the room.

The part of my brain that memorized names started working again, suddenly having a reason to care.  The girl sitting next to me - Jessica, that was it - looked at me expectantly.

"They're... very nice-looking", I said, suddenly feeling like an idiot.
"Oh, I know!  Don't they just sparkle!?" Jessica giggled.  I was trying to figure out how a human being could sparkle when she leaned in again, the conspiracy deepening. "They're all together, though: Emmett and Rosalie, Jasper and Alice.  And they live together."  Shock and condemnation. A product of small town values, certainly, though not anything that wouldn't be gossiped about in Pheonix as well.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked.  "They don't look related..."
"Oh, they're not.  Dr. Cullen is really young, like in his twenties or thirties.  They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, the twin blondes, but they're foster children."
"They look a little old for foster children."
"Well, they are now. Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight.  She's, like, their aunt or something like that."

1. First Sight, pt 4

Other students were beginning to arrive as I pulled out of the lot.  I drove around the school, following the line of traffic.  Most of the cars were even older than mine.  For some reason I expected to be like Paradise Valley, where it was pretty common to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot, ready to be wrecked by some grinning jock on his parents payroll.  The nicest car here was a Volvo, which stuck out like a sore thumb.  The Thing growled hungrily at it.

Cutting the engine as soon as I pulled into a spot, I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it so I wouldn't have to walk around with my nose stuck in a soggy piece of paper all day.  I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and took a huge breath.  I can do this, I told myself feebily.  It's not like they're going to jump up and bite me. Exhaling, I stepped out of the truck.

Building 3 was easy to spot once I made it around the cafeteria.  Keeping my face pulled into the hood of my jacket, I blended with the crowd and followed two unisex raincoats through the door into a small classroom.  People in front of me stopped to hang their coats up on a long row of hooks, and I followed suit.  Only two girls: a porcelain blonde, and another pale teen with light brown hair.  At least I wouldn't stand out.

I took the slip up to the teacher, who gawked at me when he saw my name but sent me to the back of the class without comment.  It seemed like it would be harder for my new classmates to stare at me there, but somehow they managed.

The reading list was beyond basic.  Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner.  I'd already read everything.  I contemplated asking my mom for my folder of old essays, then went through some imaginary arguments with her on the morals of cheating while the teacher droned.

A nasal buzzing sound announced the end of the class, and a gangly boy with skin problems an an oil slick for hair leaned across the aisle.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"
Heads swiveled.
"Bella."
"Where's your next class?"
"..."
There wasn't anywhere to turn without meeting curious eyes.  Sighing, I dug into my bag.  "Building six."

"I'm headed to building four, I could show you the way..."
"Fine."

We got our jackets and headed out in the rain.

"So, this is a lot different than Pheonix, huh?"
"Very."
"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"
"No."
"Wow.  I can't imagine what that's like."
"Sunny."
"You don't look very tan."
"My mother is part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, not entirely certain if I was joking.  I flashed a few teeth to show him I was, and he grinned back as though he suddenly understood me.

"Well, this is it." He had walked me all the way to the door.  "Good luck!  Maybe we'll have some other classes together."  He sounded hopeful.

I went inside.

The rest of the morning passed similarly.  My Trig teacher, Mr. Varner, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself.  I tripped over my own boots on the way up, and stammered something indecipherable before stumbling back to my seat.  I would have hated him anyways just for the subject he taught.

Forks High school has only 357 students, so it took only two more classes before I started to recognize some familiar gawking faces.  I made bets in my head as to who would be brave enough  to step up and speak to me, and won them all, with one exception.  The girl who shared both my Trig and Spanish classes walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch - practically shoulder length even next to my five feet four inches, with wildly curly dark hair that made up most of the difference.  I couldn't remember her name, so I just smiled and nodded as she led me by the nose, prattling on about teachers and classes.  She pulled me into a seat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, whose names I also forgot immediately, but all of whom seemed very impressed with the new catch.  From across the room the boy from English, Eric, waved at me.

It was there that I first saw them.

1. First Sight, Pt 3

Everything in Forks was green. Green trees covered in green moss, filtering green light through a thick green canopy to rest on the green ferns that coated the ground wherever the green grass wasn't. It was like an alien planet. You would think these plants would need sun to survive.

We made it to Charlie's place, the small, two-bedroom house he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Not that there had been anything other than early days to their marriage. The Thing was parked out front, a faded red giant sleeping peacefully by the sidewalk.

It looked like it had been carved out of solid iron. I suddenly imagined it at the scene of an accident, not a scratch on it, surrounded by the tiny pieces of the foreign car it had just torn into a hundred different spare parts.

This was a pretty appealing thought. I tried to thank Charlie again, but he gave me the same gruff embarrassed "You're welcome" and looked away bashfully.

It took one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. The room was much the same as it had always been- the same light blue walls, the same yellowing lace curtains at the window, same creaking rocking chair in the furthest corner. Swap the bed for a crib, and it would be impossible to tell what decade it was, apart from the secondhand computer clumsily installed on the desk. The phone line for the modem was stapled to the floor, creeping along the wall to the nearest phone jack in the outside hall. My mother had forced Charlie to do that, so that we could stay in touch easily. If we could have made him install a second bathroom, we would have done that, too.

Unlike my mother, Charlie never hovered. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been impossible for her. It was nice to be alone, for once.

I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser and took my bag of necessities to the communal bathroom to clean myself up. My skin seemed sallow and pallid. Nothing had color, here. Not that I had ever had any color to speak of. Maybe I was just tired. I plodded into the bedroom and sank wearily into the sheets.

The constant sound of rain and wind across the roof takes some getting used to. It refuses to be a part of the background, no matter how many quilts and pillows you bury yourself under to muffle the noise. It wasn't until midnight that the weather finally settled into a calmer drizzle and I was able to slip into unconsciousness.

In the morning there was thick fog pressing against the windows. Claustrophobia set in. I wished I could see the sky.

Charlie and I ate breakfast together in silence. He left first. I sat at the the old square oak table in one of three unmatching chairs and examined the tiny kitchens dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and dirty linoleum floor. My mother had painted those cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Again, nothing had changed.

Over the small fireplace in the cramped family room was a row of pictures - wedding photos of Charlie and my mom in Vegas, one small shot of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, and a procession of school pictures dated all the way to last year. Some of them I'd never even seen. My mother had stopped putting the school photos up after I refused to smile for them.

School. Charlie had registered me already. I didn't want to be too early, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my new jacket and waterproof boots, briefly imagining them as a biohazard suit, and headed out into the rain.

This morning was a light drizzle, which is what constitutes normal weather in Forks. Misty wetness clung to my hair underneath my hood. The gravel crunched strangely against my boots as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door and locked up the house.

The inside of the truck was nice and dry, smelling faintly of peppermint, tobacco and gasoline. The engine started quickly, and The Thing roared to life like a beast possessed, idling with a deep and throaty rumble that threatened to eat the neighbors. The antique radio even worked.

The school, like most other things, was just off the highway. Without the sign you would miss it - it looked more like a collection of matching maroon houses than anything, with so many trees and shrubs that I could scarcely tell its size. I was suddenly overrun with nostalgia for chain-link fences and metal detectors.

The first building was the front office, which must have been off limits for students to park in front of, as the lot was empty. It was a mistake I was perfectly willing to make on my first day. The Thing went where it willed. Let no man try and stop it.

I stepped unwillingly from the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. Outside the door I drew in a deep breath and, despite the rain, hesitated for a moment. The dark patter of rain was lonely and unsettling. I opened the door.

The room inside was warm, and brightly lit: a small office divided in half by a long counter cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and adorned with dozens of brightly colored flyers. Notice and awards cluttered the walls, and a big clock ticked audibly away. Behind the counter were three desks, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses and a purple T-shirt. I suddenly felt overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Isabella Swan," I said, and watched her eyes light up in recognition. Swan? Not that Isabella Swan? Why, the daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home to roost at last!

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precarious pile of documentation on the desk until she found the one file she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here - oh! And a map of the school."

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign so that I could bring it back at the end of the day. I crumpled it and stuck it in my back pocket. She smiled at me with every pearly white tooth in her mouth and expressed her hope that, like Charlie, I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.

1. First Sight, pt 2

I only had one other bag to unload. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for the Washington weather - doubly so for the unending drizzle of unpleasantness that was Forks. My mom and I had pooled resources for winter clothes, but I still had little enough that it could all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap." he announced when we were strapped in. This was not unexpected. When I told Charlie I was coming I had made it abundantly clear that I would not be chauffeured around town in a vehicle with red and blue lights on the top, and even if he had the ability to lend it to me to drive on my own I wouldn't have. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop car.

"What kind of car?" I said, immediately suspicious. A good car "for me" was probably something other than a good car, considering the amount of money I actually had to purchase one.

"Well, it's a truck, actually. A Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black, down at La Push?"

"La Push?"

"Ech... He used to go fishing with us during the summer?"

"..."

"He's in a wheelchair now. So, he can't drive anymore. He offered to sell me his truck, cheap."

"What year is the truck?"

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine - so the important parts only a few years old, really."

"Uh huh. And what year did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

Not so bad. Wait. "...Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties. Or late fifties. At the earliest."

"Ch - Dad... I don't really know anything about cars. I couldn't fix it if anything went wrong, and I can't afford to hire a mechanic..."

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great! They don't build them like that anymore."

"And how cheap is 'The Thing?'" I said, making a mental note to keep calling it that.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." He peeked sideways at me, a hopeful expression on his face.

Wow. Free.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."

"Really, I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He had his eyes fixed on the road again, now, so I did the same.

Be happy? I could never be happy in Forks. It was an impossibility.

"That's... really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"Well now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my gratitude. I was still a terrible liar - but for some reason, Charlie had always believed me.

1. First Sight

Somewhere beneath a never-ending field of dark clouds in the most tepid and boring part of the state of Washington there exists a little town called Forks. It is not named for its roads, or for it's particularly fine dining instruments but rather for the man who first lived there, who is notable in that his name was Charles Forks and that he was otherwise not notable in any way whatsoever.

Charles Forks, like me, loved sunshine and warm weather, and thus forever regretted his decision to settle in the Olympic Peninsula until three decades later when he left his adoring neighbors and moved his entire family to Pheonix. Another nine decades after that, I was born, and every summer for fourteen years after that I made the same journey as Charles Forks - by plane, in reverse - to spend a month in the town I was born for reasons I had never been exceptionally interested in.

It was a gloomy town, filled with gloomy people, and the gloomiest of these people were only usually the dead ones. I hated it: partly because it was not the sprawling, vigorous city I called home; partly because for the last five years of my life I had hated almost everything, including myself. When I was fourteen and thought I was old enough to make my own decisions, I stopped going entirely.

When I was seventeen, I came to stay.

"Bella," my mother said as we stood in the crowded airport terminal, "You don't have to go."
If I had spent more time smiling in the years that I lived - and if I had lived longer - I expect I would look somewhat like my mother. I had her brown eyes and ivory skin but never her demeanor, so innocent and naive. When she talked it was like I was the mother and she the scattered infant.

It wasn't an act. Now that she had Phil, the bills would be paid on time for once, and there would be food in the refrigerator and gas in the car. But I had always been her lifeline before and she clung to my hand as though she knew it.

"I want to go." I said. I was a terrible liar, but this lie I'd been telling so frequently that it almost sounded like truth.

She smiled, then, and let go of my hand. "Say hi to Charlie for me."
"I will."
"You can come home whenever you want."
"I know."
"I'll see you soon."
"..."

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I was gone.

It's four hours from Pheonix to Seattle by plane, and after a thirty minute transfer it's another hour up to the small town of Port Angeles. I'd never gotten jet-lag, a fact I wished then I had concealed, considering it would have been a perfect excuse not to talk to my driver as he took me the last hour down to Forks.

Charlie had admittedly been really nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for any degree of permanence, and had said he would help me find a car once I got there.

But it was still awkward. Neither of us were the talkative type, and I didn't have anything to say regardless. I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision, as both my mother and I had made no secret of our distaste for his little town.

But he was waiting for me in Port Angeles with the cruiser, parked almost on top of the tiny runway. Police Chief Charlie Swan, head of law enforcement in a town that had no crime, waiting awkwardly at the base of the stairs to take me up in an awkward, one-armed hug as I stumbled my way down with bags in tow.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he caught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renee?"

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you too, Charlie." The smile faded. It had been a while since I'd been to Forks, I'd forgotten I wasn't supposed to call him that to his face. Only "Dad" would do.

Preface - Notes

But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil,
thou shalt not eat of it:
for in the day that thou eatest thereof
thou shalt surely die.
Genesis 2:17


"See, this is what I hate about you vampires. Sex and death and love and pain... it's all the same damn thing to you."
Buffy, the Vampire Slayer


It wasn't the worst way to die: in the place of someone I loved, truly and absolutely.  A noble death, even.  I had never been a noble person - or even an extraordinary one - so maybe it counted for something, going out like this.

We all have our little hopes.

I stared into the hunters eyes like the trapped rat that I was, and he grinned pleasantly back at me.  Killing me wouldn't bother him any.  Most likely it wouldn't bother anyone.  Except maybe one person...

I know I'd never have died this way if I hadn't come to this awful town.  But I have no regrets.  When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, one can hardly grieve when that dream comes to an end.

The hunter smiled again, and sauntered slowly forwards to wake me.

Introduction/Preface

What it says on the tin.

This is a writing exercise, not intended for any commercial purposes (or really, any purpose other than entertaining myself).  I'm going to take Stephanie Meyers #1 New York Times bestseller Twilight and turn it into something I'd want to read. 

I've never read Twilight.  I made it a few chapters in once, so I know enough to confirm what seems to be general consensus about the book: 1) It's insipid gibberish of the worst sort, 2) The copy editor should be shot, 3) Seriously, don't read this tripe.  4) etc. and so on.  People hate the book about exactly as much as it is successful, which, given the quality of the writing, they have a right to. 

Since I have never read Twilight, my plan of attack is to go a chapter at a time, reading ahead only if I feel it necessary, and edit the thing or completely change it as the mood strikes me. I'll explain more after I know what I'm doing.  But I'm starting now.  Onetwothree go.