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The Falling

In the action itself, she is weightless and free. The flight is not to be feared, only the impact. A story on the life of Esme Cullen. Image Hosted by ImageShack.us Banner By incredible Iris!

I may submit this to the official site. What do you think?

10. Chapter 10

Rating 5/5   Word Count 520   Review this Chapter

Sound the bells and call…

The curtain draws back. We are seated quite comfortably in luxurious velvet chairs, side by side in the theater. The room is darkened, the immense chandelier having been dimmed minutes ago. The lack of light prevents me from seeing his face… but the dark is electric between us.

The stage is dark, and a voice speaks from it.

“Two households alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene, from ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean, from forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-crossed lovers takes their lives…”

“Lovely,” I murmur in Carlisle’s ear, hoping he won’t be angry I’ve disrupted him, “Now they’ve ruined the ending before the show even starts.”

“Well, if you don’t know how Romeo and Juliet ends, I doubt you’ve any chance of understanding what they mean,” he retorts, stifling a laugh.

It only goes up from there.

The light comes up. The stage is illuminated, though the woman’s voice that spoke the opening part is nowhere to be seen. Instead, two men take the stage, wearing doublets and hose of a clearly uniform nature. I am familiar with the play, having read it more than once. Shakespeare is one of the few reading materials my parents reluctantly allow.

I quite like this play. A man in a contrasting uniform- a servant of the Montagues- enters, trades some witty insults that fly over most audience’s heads, and draws his blade. Not five minutes in and there’s already a full-blown swordfight. No wonder the groundlings have been forking over their sixpence since the seventeenth century to see this play.

Carlisle and I laugh when Montague and Capulet turn to fight each other, and the wives of the aging patriarchs scold them. The other audience members hiss at us to be quiet, as they do not understand, but we both see the humor in the intricate language… and it is especially comical to hear, “A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword?” when I am so splendidly and obviously in need of one- a crutch, not a blade.

We are anxious as the Prince threatens exile, irritated and amused in turns as the comical Benvolio and Nurse discuss marriage of the lovers… to other people. The first act passes remarkably quickly, in fact… too quickly. The acting is superb, not that I’ve much to compare it too. Though Juliet is far too old for the part (it specifically says fourteen) she is beautiful in the sort of way that makes me achingly jealous. Romeo, on the other hand, is not exactly a looker, certainly nothing compared to the man beside me.

As I think those words, I feel an unexpected something. Carlisle gently and tenderly takes my hand, placing our intertwined fingers between the two of us. It is an incredible sensation. I smile at him as the curtain falls on act one.

Watch the laughing fall…