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Jacob Black wonders what happened to spring, and reflects on the future. A one shot told by the seasons, as they watch a rather bitter coming of age tale.

My first Twilight Fanfiction. I do feel so terrible for Jacob Black. I cannot see how anyone wouldn't. Ah, well I do feel like if this story was any worse, Jacob would be walking around in black clothing and a razor blade. Haha. I'm terrible.

1. Seasons

Rating 0/5   Word Count 620   Review this Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Series, or any of it’s characters. If I did, Jacob would have imprinted on a guy vampire/ninja hybrid.



When he was a child, he loved the spring.

Spring was innocence.

He watched the trees grow little buds, and the flowers flourish. For obvious reasons now, he doesn’t enjoy it as much. At the foot of the stump that was once a gigantic tree, Jacob had took his first steps.

Warmed by the noon sun, and encouraged by his father, he never worried where those steps would lead. Had he known, the werewolf wishes he‘d jumped out of that once-large, looming hierarchy.

Now spring smelled sweet, smelled like them.


When he was just reaching the age of puberty, Jacob was afraid of when summer had to end.

Summer was when life was worth living.

The heat made him feel so fervent, thriving, and full. Something he felt now if he wanted to or not. In the shade, Embry and Quil would practice wrestling moves on one another. Jake found himself frequently breaking them apart when Quil got too rough By than it had come a real fight.

Two minutes later, all was forgiven.

Jacob misses those days, days when he’d sneak and have a little joy-ride with his two best friends, instead of his fellow warriors. And in the lazy afternoons, they’d run off, and splash in the river like the children that they were.

So much for that.


When he was older (in years, because he’d had the body of a twenty-five year old long before he actually was one) he wondered if he‘d survive Autumn.

Autumn was when he died, or at least he wished he had.

Sometimes, when Jacob was tired from sprinting, he’d curl up and could not help but think of her. He could not bare to think of her name, it was far too beautiful. Of course, everything about her was. Her long hair, spread across his chest. Her beautiful eyes, looking into his. Her stupid facial expressions that he never took seriously.

In his mind, She’d hold onto him, smile and grab a falling leaf. The smile was as far as he could go before it became too much. The image would die, and Jacob was left curled in a pile of dead leaves, face buried in his hands, feeling just a dead as the crushed foliage beneath him. Every time he manages to pull himself together and walk on, the dry leaves that hadn’t before would crumble beneath his feet. Once upon a spring, they were so alive. Once upon a spring, so was he.


Now, he is disgusted by winter.

Winter was when she ceased being his companion become his foe.

When Billy comments on the first snow of the year, Jacob finds coming home might have been the wrong idea. Beneath the gray sky, he takes that terrible invitation, and drops it into the waters he’d once rescued Bella from. It no longer hurts to think or say her name. Isabella isn’t real anymore, after all.

Her heart froze long ago. She never apologized for killing herself. She did it in terrible pain, but smiling on the inside. Jake just knows it. He wonders if Isabella thinks of him, because he knows after today he’ll never of her.

The snow falls fresh on Isabella’s grave; one that the Tribe had put in her honor, in a spot most fitting.

The snow falls fresh on him; but he doesn’t even feel it.

And, despite what he had promised to the world, he curls up and wonders if spring will ever come to melt the winter away. It seems so far away, and he wonders if he stays atop her grave; if it snows enough; if it will even matter.