“For never was there a story of more woe
than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”
than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”
The point of Tybalt's rapier was mere inches from Romeo's chest. Though I knew it was a vision of ghosts I could not stand and watch my love die by the hand of my late cousin.
“Stay Tybalt, stay!” I screamed. I then took up the sleeping draft and after whispering words of love to my Romeo, I drained the vial. The taste was terrible and I almost spit it out, but the thought of marrying Paris overcame the taste and I swallowed. Sleep quickly covered me and all was peaceful for the first time that day.
The sleep was restful and deep. I dreamt of Romeo and the first time our hands touched. I dreamt about our wedding. I dreamt about the moment when this potion would release me and I would wake in the arms of my husband. I dreamt of how we would live the rest of our lives hand in hand. So happy. So in love. So perfect. The nightmares didn't start until I awoke.
Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I could see the corpses of my ancestors long since dead. Fear choked me and I felt I would suffocate in that grave. I turned in surprise when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Friar Lawrence was standing there with a lantern in hand the light from the flame and the familiar face calmed me. But something was wrong, he was panicked.
I asked him where Romeo was. The potion was clouding my mind and I heard his response as a jumble of shattering words. “. . . hear some noise. . . come . . .nest of death . . . unnatural sleep . . .thwarted our intents . . .husband . . . lies dead . . . Paris too . . .”
A feeling colder than ice ripped at my heart. I turned on the death bed and saw Romeo. His body lay on the stone floor. Unmoving. My mind had cleared and I heard the last words of the Friar.
“Come, go, good Juliet; I dare no longer stay,” His voice was torn with fear. He must have gone mad to think I would leave Romeo. Facing him I said, “Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.”
He looked at me once more, his face pleading. I shook my head, and he ran from the tomb.
I dropped to my knees on the, cold, ground next to Romeo. my tears flowed as I brushed hair away from his eyes and held his hand . . . his hand. There was something in his hand. I gently pulled back his fingers and saw the cup. He had poisoned himself. Bring the cup to my lips I desperately I tried draining whatever contents remained, but there was nothing. Throwing the cup aside I shouted at Romeo's corpse:
“O churl' drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after?” I kissed him in hope that there would be a trickle of poison left on his lips. Nothing was there but warmth.
Despairingly I embraced Romeo, weeping and praying that this was all a dream.
“Lead boy: which way?” I jumped at the sound of the watchman. I had run out of time.
Quickly, I snatched up the dagger at Romeo's belt, unsheathed it, and rested the tip on my heart. Everything slowed to where I could feel and hear every part of my body, every thump of my heart and every chill up my spine, each breath came slow and steady.
From outside the tomb I could see the flicker of torch light as the watchman came ever closer. I spoke my last words aloud, “O happy dagger! this is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die.” I felt the pressure build in my arms as they pushed the blade into my chest. Breath was ripped from my lungs and my whole body shook. The pain was blinding as I continued to press. Too weak to kneel upright I fell on Romeo's body. My blood covering us both. Just happy to be near him; I smiled and my eyes closed for the last time.
Author's note: tell me what i can fix guys! and if you could help me out with the Grammar that would rock. i know it sucks. thanks.
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