October 31 - November 7

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Post by Wlonnie on Fri Nov 07, 2014 12:37 am

Rewrite the story of Romeo and Juliet. There is no limit on words, and no specification for genre.
Challenge created by Jesse.

Posts : 49
Join date : 2014-08-15
Location : The depths of my mind

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October 31 - November 7 Empty Re: October 31 - November 7

Post by Melody on Sat Nov 08, 2014 4:26 pm

Romeo And Juliet

“But I can't live without her,” Romeo complained while his friend Mercutio listened patiently, trying not to appear too bored. “Rosaline is the only woman I shall ever love.” He exhaled heavily, causing a strand of his dark hair to fall over his forehead.
“There’s only one problem,” Mercutio pointed out, “she doesn't know you even exist.”
“I know, I know. But that's all going to change tonight,” Romeo said, leaning against a moss covered rock. A flock of song birds flew overhead, landing in one of the nearby trees. “She will be at the party at the Capulets' house—and I'm going.”
“What?” his friend exclaimed. “Your family and the Capulets are mortal enemies. You'd be skewered before you even set foot in the house.”
“Ah, yes my friend, which is why they're not going to know it's us,” Romeo said, standing up and throwing his arm causally around his friends neck.
“Us?” Mercutio croaked.
“Us,” repeated Romeo. “It's a costume party. They wont even know.”
“Then what is the point of going?”
“Mercutio, where is your sense of romance? I shall slip my darling Rosaline a note.”
“I see...”
“Here, put this on—” Romeo said, tossing his friend the cloak he had been wearing. “With a mask, no one will even be able to tell it's you.”
“And what, pray tell, is your costume going to be?”
“A knight in shinning armour, of course.”

* * *

The night of the party was cold and dark.. A full moon shone palely through a thin layer of clouds, casting it's silver light over the Capulet estate. Romeo fought off a shiver—the armour was real metal, quite cold in the night air.
“Hurry up,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I'm coming as fast as I can,” Mercutio responded, irritated. “I don't even want to go to this party. Why do you have to drag me along?”
“Because we're best friends, and that's what best friends do.”
Mercutio's only response was a loud sigh.
By the time the two made it to the house, there was already a long line up at the door. Guests in all shapes and forms stood outside, waiting to be let in. Romeo casually joined them, followed reluctantly by his friend.
Once the line began moving, it moved fast. Soon, they were in the Capulet's house. It was at least three stories high, with ornate rugs and tapestries decorating the interior. Several expensive looking painting lined the east wall.
“Do you see her anywhere?” Romeo asked.
“How should I be able to tell? It's a costume party, genius.”
“Wait—I think that's here over there!” Rome said excitedly, pointing to a young girl in a blue dress and wearing an Arab type scarf over her face.
Romeo began walking towards Rosaline at a fast pace. Before he had crossed even half the room, his mail-covered shoe caught on a loose corner of rug. He lost his balance, and fell straight on top of someone.
“I am terribly sorry,” he began, getting up and reaching out his hand to help the person up.
“It's alright. My fault really, for standing there.”
A womans voice.
Romeo fell speechless. Even under the mask that covered the top part of her face, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had dark brown hair that reached almost to her shoulders, and her eyes were a bright shade of blue.
“I think this party is just awful, don't you?,” the girl said, apparently trying to make conversation. “I mean, the party is alright—but it's the reason that is horrible.”
“Oh, yes—I agree completely,” Romeo said, not wanting to let on that he did not have the faintest idea what the party was about.
“Trying to marry me off to that despicable Paris. I mean really.”
“You're going to be married?” Romeo's spirits seemed to drop at her words, although he didn't know why.
“Not if I can help it,” she said. “Oh, where are my manners. I am Juliet Capulet. And you are?”
A sudden moment of panic gripped him. He could not tell her that he was her enemy, that he was the son of a Montague. Before he could answer, he felt a tugging at his sleeve. Mercutio.
“You'd better pay attention to your darling Rosaline,” he whispered in Romeo's ear. “She's over there, swooning over some fancy rich guy.”
Juliet seemed to forget her question. “That is Paris over there.” The coldness in her voice sent a shiver down Romeo's spine. “She can have him for all I care.”
Suddenly, Mercutio's presence annoyed Romeo. He wanted to be alone with Juliet.
“Mercutio,” he whispered. “Go see if the punch is cool enough.”
“Go see if the—” A cold stare from Romeo cut him off. “Oh, I see. Yes, I need to check on the punch. Excuse me please, miss,” he said, bowing.
Music began to fill the large room.
“Juliet, may I have this dance?” Romeo asked, holding out his hand.
She giggled then nodded. They then began a waltz.
When the dance ended, Romeo found it far to soon.
“Let's take a walk, out in the cool night air,” he suggested.
She seemed to hesitate. “Alright,” she said finally.
A cold wind met them outside now. They walked along a small pathway that wound through flower beds and over a small stream. The sky had cleared, making the moon shine brightly.
She pulled of her mask. She was more beautiful than Romeo could have imagined.
“You still haven't told me your name yet,” she said.
“I was hoping you had forgotten.” For a brief moment, he considered lying. He could say he was just travelling through, or that he was a distant friend of then family. But for some reason, he wanted to tell her who he really was. He wanted her to know the truth. “My name is Romeo Montague.”
Even in the dim lighting, he could tell she had stiffened. “Montague? How is that possible?”
“I snuck into the party,” he confessed. “Does it matter about or families? It has been so long, so one even remembers what the fight was about.” In spite of the armour, he wrapped his arms around her. “Juliet, I love you.”
“Love? How can you know you love someone only after one night?”
“I know,” he said softly. “I know that without you, I would have nothing to live for. I know that I have never been as happy before as I am right now.”
Juliet fell silent. “Marry me,” she said finally, hardly above a whisper.
“Marry you?” Romeo said, hoping the shock was not to evident in his voice.
“Marry me,” she repeated. “I cannot marry Paris. I would rather die first.” She looked into his eyes. “And I think I love you too.”
Romeo did not even realize it, but a hug grin had broken out on his face. “When?” he asked.
“As soon as possible,” she said. “Maybe even tomorrow?”
“Fine, fine. Should we tell them?”
“No—they will try to stop us,” she warned. “Romeo, you should go home. I will see you tomorrow, my love.”
He gave her a quick kiss before disappearing into the night.

* * *

Mercutio. That was the first thing Romeo thought when he woke the next morning. He had left his friend at the party. Quickly dressing, he slipped out of his house unnoticed by his parents—they would be asking about where he was last night.
Once he was out of view, he broke into a run. He arrived at Mercutio's house in five minutes, a trip that usually took him ten. He began knocking on the door rapidly.
Mercutio opened it. His expression was not welcoming.
“Yes?” he said sullenly.
“I, uh, see you made it home safely,” Romeo ventured.
“No thanks to you.”
“Quit whining, and let me tell you something. I'm getting married.”
“What?” All sign of anger left his friends face. Instead, they were replaced with concern and plain old dumbfounded shock. “You gave Rosaline the note?”
“No—I gave it to Juliet Capulet.” Romeo then began to explain the full story.
“So let me get this strait—she's marrying you because she has no other options short of killing herself?”
“Do you want to come to the wedding or not?”
“Of course I'm coming!” Mercutio exclaimed.
“Good. Let's go see Juliet.”

Romeo threw a pebble up against her window. Soon she appeared out on the balcony.
“Are you ready, my love?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Good. Climb down and we will be off to the church.”
She crawled over the railing and let herself fall to the ground. To Romeo's surprise, she landed on her feet. Without wasting a moment, he introduced her to Mercutio.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said politely.
“You were at the party last night as well, weren’t you?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Come on, we must go” Romeo said, suddenly feeling very afraid of the large house. Even with the sun casting warm rays on his back, he shivered.
“You're right.” Juliet cast a worried look over her shoulder. “We could be seen through any of the windows.”
The trio hurried across the sprawling lawn. Once in the cover of the trees and brush, Romeo felt a little more relieved about the house. But he had bigger worries now. He was getting married. A terrible thought came into his head.
“I have no ring,” he said out loud.
Juliet gave a small giggle. “Don't worry—I have one. My grandmother gave this to me years ago, for when I get married.” She reached into a pocket on her dress and pulled out a small golden band with a large diamond set in the metal.
They arrived at the church sweaty and grimy from their fast paced walk through the forest. Mercutio had complained that they were going too fast many times. They had paid no attention to him.
“Romeo,” she said, stopping him before they entered the chapel. “I can't go back. You know that right?”
“Why not? Once your parents find out that we've been married, they will have to let us be together.”
“No, you don't know my father. Last night, after the party, I casually tried to bring up the idea of me marrying someone other than Paris. He said if I disobeyed his wishes, I would be disowned.”
“Are you sure you want to do this then? You can still go back.”
“And marry Paris? No. Never.”
They entered the church. Inside, the priest was sitting, reading the Bible. He was an older man, with grey balding hair.
“We want to be married,” Romeo said.
The man looked up from the book. He looked almost startled, and angry for then interruption.
“Now,” Romeo added.
The man got up without a word. He walked over to the alter, laid the Bible on it, and began to say the proper words for the wedding.
“I do,” Romeo said when asked.
“I do,” Juliet followed shortly.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Romeo leaned in, ready for his first real kiss with Juliet. The first had been simply a peck. Before he could though, the doors to the chapel swung open. Paris.
He stood in the doorway, silhouetted in the sunlight. A sword was tightly gripped in his hand.
“Unhand her!” he demanded.
“It's to late,”  Romeo said boldly. “We're already married.”
“Not if I kill you.”
“No!” Juliet screamed. “Leave him alone!”
Paris seemed to ignore her. “Here,” he said, tossing Romeo a sword. “Show me how much you love her.”
Romeo picked it up. “You will not consider marrying someone else?” he asked hopefully.
“I didn't think so...”
“Romeo,” Mercutio said, “you can do this. You know how to use a sword. Dislodge his poor excuse of a head from his shoulders.”
“I don't want to hurt you,” Romeo pleaded to Paris. “Can we not end this peacefully?”
Paris lunged at Romeo. The swords made a loud ringing sound as they connected. Romeo tried several times to knock the sword out of Paris's hand. Each time, he was blocked.
“She is mine,” Paris said. With a quick motion of his wrists, he made a harmless, but painful, slash across Romeo's cheek. He could feel the hot blood running down his face.
“And once I kill you, I will make her my wife. And then, I will make her wish she had never met you. She could have had a good life, but you ruined that for her. She has to pay for... her mistake.”
Anger burned inside Romeo. In the heat of the moment, he stabbed his sword through Paris's chest He fell to the ground, his breathing ragged. His eyes closed and his hand loosened, causing the sword to fall from it. He was dead.
Romeo struggled to catch his breath. “No one touches my wife.”
Juliet ran over to him, throwing her arms around him. “Are you alright?” he asked her.
“I'm fine. Look at you—you're bleeding.” She dabbed the wound with the skirt of her dress. Romeo grimaced.
“You need to get out of here,” Mercutio said. “You'll be hung for what you've done if you're caught.”
Romeo nodded. “Juliet—go home. You can still go back.”
“No. I'm going with you. I am you're wife.”
He hugged her.
“Hurry!” Mercutio said. “I'm not sure where that priest went. He probably off telling the whole story to the authorities right now.”
Romeo embraced Mercutio in a bear hug. “Perhaps we will meet again, my friend.”
The young couple fled the chapel.
Romeo led Juliet into the cover of the forest. They could hide there for now. The adventure was far from over, but that didn't matter. They were together.

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Post by Wlonnie on Sat Nov 08, 2014 9:24 pm

Oil and Water

Perhaps, in another life, the prison guard and I had been in love. Really in love, I mean; without the rusting chains around my ankles and harsh words passed between us in this world. The attraction between us was like some otherworldly magnetic force. Some mornings, he gave me extra food with my daily rations. He'd smirk at me and tell me about his life before this penance of a prison occupation. Jokes and subtle teasings passed between us on a regular basis, and sometimes, when he got close enough to the thick iron bars that encaged me, I'd get a brief moment or two to touch him, to breathe him in. We were so alike in those moments, almost as if we were two units of the same entity.
It wasn't hard, this strange relationship. On the bad days, it was simply painful. I never showed that his degrading words left marks on my skin. Haughtily turning away as his darkened form loomed onwards was my way of coping with his bad days. Some days, it was like we both came to the realization that we could never be anything. That we could never be anything. Those days were the shadowy ones. Our magnetic force would oppose at such times, leaving me in a seething rage and him with a weapon in hand.
Perhaps we were too alike to be compatible.
Either way, it didn't matter. I was a prisoner and he was my keeper. Even if we had admitted our feelings to each other, the other prison guards would easily learn our secret. It would never work. We were fools thrust into an endearing, writhing, evil game - we always got so far before we let go.

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Post by Natarsha on Fri Nov 14, 2014 7:04 pm

Romeo and Juliet:

I stand up from my desk and take a deep breathe, notes in hand I walk to the front of the class to begin my speech on Romeo and Juliet which had studied for the last three terms.  I cleared my throat and the class turned to face me, 30 eyes staring me down like I was the prey and they were the hunters. “Romeo and Juliet written by William Shakespeare, Was a tragic love story about two ‘star crossed lovers’ defying their parents to be together. Now at first glance when reading this, you think they did truly love one another but after three terms of studying the text till we know every line off by heart we come to new terms that in fact the two ‘lovers’ did not love one another. Let’s start with Romeo he sees Juliet and instantly falls in love straight after he finds out his old love Rosaline went with someone else. Now Juliet didn’t want to marry Paris and once she saw Romeo and he had ‘wooed’ her she fell in love just like that. Psychologist say a crush only lasts for four months. But when the feelings last longer, you are considered to be “In love”, so in their case they were not ‘in love’ and killing themselves was a selfish thing to do. In my opinion if I were to write Romeo and Juliet there would be no death, no family feud, and maybe it would be an easy read. The start of the play with the narrator is a well quoted quote world wide” I take a deep breath and looked around the class 30 pairs of eyes started at me.  

“Two households, both 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 take their life;
Whose misadventures piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-marked love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend”

Without stumbling or mucking up lines I looked at the class a cheeky smile on my best friends face I continue my speech “What most of us did not understand with the story is why kill yourself so you two can be together? How does that work, In a simple way it doesn’t at all, it doesn’t stop the fighting between the families, it doesn’t mean you two will be together so why do It? Why kill yourself? In fact why ‘fall in love’ with the opposite house just to be rebellious and go against them?  Another fact that I would like to go over, Juliet was around 14-15 and Romeo somewhere in his twenties so isn’t that illegal? Apparently not in this story. Juliet was fifteen how is a fifteen year old meant to know what love is? How is anyone meant to know what love is? It’s a feeling yes, but it isn’t always a good one. In conclusion I believe that Romeo and Juliet was a sick twisted love story and had no moral value. And If I were to re-write it or if any one were to I wish they would make it where the lovers are the same age and in fact why not make it a modern love? Thank you” I smile and take my seat as the class claps, the teacher then hands out my copy of the story:

Re-write of Romeo and Juliet by Emma Smith:

“You may kiss the bride” Romeo leans in and kisses Rosaline they walk back down the aisle together hand in hand cheesy smiles plastered on their faces, Juliet sits beside her husband Victor happy tears streaming down everyone’s face, happiness floating in the air like wisp’s. The well-known narrator walks towards Romeo “What did I tell you? If you waited your girl would come back to you” He smiles and congratulates the newlyweds as the set of to their honeymoon.

Two Hours After

“In later news...” the news reporter began “Juliet has fallen pregnant and is suspected to be twins. The newly wedded couple have now arrived to the secret honeymoon location and are staying for two weeks. That is all the gossip here in Verona tune in next time to find out what secret does Friar Lawrence hold? I’m Sally Bridge and this is Verona Gossip.” The TV cuts out as the news reporter signs out, I sigh and lay back the job of narrator is a tough one.

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Age : 19
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Post by Admin on Tue Nov 18, 2014 2:24 am

Part 1
This is a story pertaining to the adventures of Jeryth Wildaberge.

Jeryth was an ordinary man, an average youth of his race, not necessarily “boyfriend material” as some would call it, yet simply quite average. He was not one to turn heads for his physique, nor was he one to stick out for his ugliness. Jeryth was perfectly normal in appearance. Except for when he smiled. Young Jeryth had unusually long fangs for a human being – canines which were often the topic of conversation over dinner or other foods. Why was this? Jeryth was a particular man in the sense that he detested anything edible, and most generally tried to stay away from it as best he could. He was a man of liquids, preferring to consume drinks and soups to hard foods which most bit down upon with their brawny bicuspids and muscular molars. No, Jeryth did not like to use his teeth. Perhaps this was why his fangs had grown like so. But were they even real, or simply implants the juvenile had inserted? No one knew, but save Jeryth himself.
Aside from strict eating habits – and deep, unspoken, punctilious preferences – Jeryth was a normal guy. He also hated the color pink.
One day on a breezy autumn afternoon (Jeryth’s least favorite of seasons), a storm was tearing up the eastern part of the suburbs. Jeryth loved a good spring storm, and rare as they were in the autumn, he’d made it his decision to enjoy them to the fullest. Adorning his high collared trench coat, he began walking his usual stroll around town, humming the latest ditty he’d heard on the radio earlier that day. It was a pleasant day he’d decided, sloshing his freshly polished shoes in the lively rippling puddles across the sidewalk. As he neared the bus stop, he recognized Sally, Wendy, and Jer (short for Jeremy, but no one called him that) all huddled under the tiny shelter which the lacking overhang had to offer. Sally, a stalwart girl of around his age had a part time job in the city where she would often bus to at around 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Wendy was slightly older and worked an afternoon shift at the local fast food restaurant, and could often be found heading home at around the same time. Jer on the other hand was a marketing salesman who did part time landscaping in Central City as a way of bringing in extra income. The three of them often sat together, waiting for the same buss to arrive and pluck them out of the little town where Jeryth resided. He smiled and nodded at the trio as he passed. Jer was flustered that the other thought he could get away without a proper greeting, and gave the soggy bloke a bear hug before commenting on the weather, and then sitting back down. Life was going on as usual for Jeryth, nothing out of the ordinary.
Lightning struck, causing Jeryth to shudder. He liked the lightning and accompanying rounds of thunder; it stimulated his senses making him feel alive. If he ever had his way, he’d go off to live on a stormy hill where he’d build his oaken mansion, high enough that it would sway in the breeze. His eyes snapped open as he was abruptly interrupted by a nearby scream. Spinning about, Jeryth tried to discern where the noise had come from. He’d always believed he had a sixth sense for echolocation, though his parents said otherwise. Within only a matter of what felt like seconds, Jeryth had allocated the girl where the scream had originated. His eyes shot wide as he observed the strewn debris of what had once been a car. From the looks of it, the brakes had locked causing the automobile to spin out of control (into numerous obstacles) before its deformed shape flew off the low-hanging bridge, which the road travelled upon, and landed into the swelling river below. This wouldn’t have been a problem, however the deformed vehicle’s previous owner had been unable to swim against the current once exiting their waterlogged jalopy and was currently dangling from a branch at the mouth of the city’s waterfall. Jeryth knew the hundred-foot drop would be an immediate death for the flailing female, which sputtered about only twenty or so yards away.
Throwing off his coat and shirt, Jeryth revealed his surprisingly pasty white skin before disappearing off the bridge and into the churning river below.
“Help!” the girl screamed.
Jeryth believed he had an above average physique. This was however but a speculation, as the lad was known for being a perfectly normal male youth. Jeryth shot forward non-the less as he swam with the current in the direction of the waterfall’s edge. Squeezing a hand around the protruding branch, he lurched forward as he came to an abrupt stop, thrusting out a hand for the girl to grab hold of. She looked at him quizzically before committing both her hands to his (which caused her to flow down farther). By now, Jeryth was sure her feet were over the waterfall’s edge.
It was then that he realized he had no idea what to do. The young youth had dived into the situation without a plan in mind. He knew he excelled at making up plans on the spot, and decided to put his teenage mind to the test. Looking to the left, then the right, Jaryth realized there was no way he could make it to either of the banks in time. He suddenly had a brilliant idea. Well, to him it seemed brilliant at the time. He later slightly regretted his decision. Turning to face the waterfall’s edge, he let go of the branch causing the two of them to go hurtling over the edge. She screamed. And screamed. And then screamed some more.
Everything went black, although he was still entirely conscious. His mind braced for impact but was rather met with a cushion of water – a hard cushion at that. But they sunk in nonetheless. It was then that Jeryth realized the waterfall’s length was a lot closer to thirty feet than it was to a hundred. He immediately kicked himself for getting that part wrong on his geography test earlier that week before dragging himself back up to the surface, girl in tow. It was only a couple minutes before he was able to bring them both upon the soggy banks of the bloated river. The thick waters surged like a living creature, ferrying debris through its silver-grey strands of liquid. Jeryth considered consuming some – and he very well would have had the girl not come to. Coughing and sputtering, she tried to sit up, propping herself on her left elbow after a failed attempt. Jeryth was already back to his normal, average self. Only today, he realized he’d done a really un-average thing. Squatting down next to the girl, he gave her his usual smile (teeth included).
“What is your name?” he asked politely.
He was met with a slap across the face. Rubbing his wound, he looked back in dazed confusion.
“I was trying very hard NOT to fall,” the girl spat, before rolling onto her hands and knees to cough up more liquid. Jeryth watched the liquid sedulously.
After waiting a few seconds, he tried again, using the only conversation he knew when meeting someone for the first time. “So, what is your name?”
“Cynthia,” the girl managed, wiping her mouth as she got up into a kneeling position. “And you?”
“Well, thanks for trying to save me back there.”
Jeryth beamed. “I can get my parents to buy you a new car,” he said. It is at this point in the story that we forgot to mention – his parents were very rich. Not that he ever enjoyed any of it though, other than slightly above average name brands and novelties, Jeryth had a very average bank account that he rarely touched.
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”
Jeryth stared her down quizzically, knowing that anyone who refused a free car was an abnormal person. Or, perchance they were just too embarrassed to accept help from a stranger. This girl who he’d just flown off the waterfall with immediately intrigued him. She managed to get up and thank him again before walking off towards the main road. Jeryth just stood there watching, hands in his pockets with a stupid grin plastered to his face. Well, he thought the grin was quite charming. Jeryth knew that for some unknown reason, he was smitten for the girl. She was cute, quirky, and looked about his age. It was then that he realized she’d been wearing pink. He spent the rest of the walk home in turmoil, wondering whether or not this was a sign. How could he like the girl who wore the color he hated the most?
His mother scolded him when he arrived home in the rain without a coat (or shirt for that matter) and quickly gave him a dry towel, sending him up to his room. But all he could think about as he trodded up the steps was the girl in the pink shirt he’d met that day named Cynthia…

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