I wrote this as a final assignment for our Romeo and Juliet novel study in English. I hope...
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The stranger had spent a good half of the night in the shrubs, writing the romantic scene between Romeo and Juliet. He was so exhausted that he had fallen asleep in the shrubs and didn’t wake up until it was almost noon.
“Something exciting is afoot! I can sense it in the air. The waters of tension are boiling over and I sense a tragic outcome of today.”
“There is young Juliet and her friends; I must follow them. Doom is drawn to her beauty like a moth to a flame.”
“Why’re you so tired, Juliet?” Cat asked.
“I was up until midnight at the dance; then I didn’t fall asleep until four in the morning.”
“Were you thinking about the cute guy from the dance?”
“Don’t be stupid, Cat,” I snapped. “I just couldn’t get to sleep, that’s all.”
“Well, my dad says they still haven’t caught him.” Cat’s dad was a cop. “He must be good if he’s still on the run.”
“I hope they catch him; he’s probably severely mentally ill. He needs help.”
“And if you weren’t dating Paris you would have gone out with him, wouldn’t you?”
“No! Cat, he was stalking me. Get it through your head: I don’t like him!”
“Whatever you say.” Cat stopped abruptly and stared at the convenience store. “Look who’s coming this way.”
I squinted to see who she was looking at. “Miranda and Betty? What’s the big deal?”
“They made a fool of me in front of my boyfriend.”
“Calm down; you don’t really want to fight.” I tried to soothe her bad mood.
“Yes I do! They have to learn that they can’t get away with whatever they want.” She smiled briefly. “They’re heading right this way.”
“Let’s go, Cat.”
I grabbed her arm and tried to steer her away, but she stood firm. A vicious yet arrogant look was planted firmly on her features. There was no stopping her, not when she was in this mood.
“Hey Catherine, how’s your boyfriend?” Miranda, the shorter one asked. She knew full well Cat hated her full name.
“He’s doing fine, but he’d be a lot better if he didn’t have to see your ugly face every day.”
Miranda flew at Cat, ready to fight. But Cat was ready for her and she had taken three years of judo; she was more than a match for Miranda. In a matter of seconds, Miranda was on the ground and Cat didn’t even have her hair out of place. So much for a dramatic fight between two rivals.
The man was watching the whole scene from a spruce tree a few feet away. He scowled, disappointed in such behaviour from women. How much more exciting would it have been if it were men duelling each other!
“Juliet’s friend, this ‘Cat’, shall be called Tybalt. Tybalt, the king of cats!” he smiled and wrote it down.
“Oh, happy fortune! The love-stricken Romeo is coming this way.” He carefully climbed down from the tree to greet the young man. “Prithee, lad, what ails thee?”
The man furrowed his brow; this lad was a bit slow. “You are a love-stricken lad with nothing to look forward to here. Pray, come with me and be a part of my great tragedy called ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ My theatre performs plays for the Queen herself!”
“Sure, I’ll come with you.” He sighed. “Anything is better than sticking around here with the cops after me.”
So the two men went back to where the stranger had appeared just the other night.
“What’s your name, by the way?” Romeo asked the man.
“Shakespeare. William Shakespeare.”