I do not own any of the characters used; sorry for not updating sooner; in
RL I got a B.
Another Day with the Secondary Acts of Torment Summer morning-1506 still For only having written three days straight, I no longer wake restlessly, with the thoughts from the night before reeling in my head, demanding they be intentioned with my acknowledgement! I write early, for today will be a day of days! I will do as Romeo and proclaim my "Love" to that one that my eyes linger on and my mind is so set on. It is time to head out and with my rapier; I christen this day to be my happiest yet. Summer evening Re-reading that first bit, I have to laugh at myself. "This day to be my happiest"?! What nonsense, utter and foolish and having not securer footing than a half-built ladder! If anything "good" 'append to day, it was Romeo's fighting for me. The pacifist dropped that performance and brandished a sword rather justly. I do but get ahead of myself, for to you who do not know, I am dead. A grave man to be in but a few hours. I was neither Montague nor Capulet but here I am, dead because of it. I could blame Romeo-for he is the one that tried to stop my fighting of Tybalt and with such an opportunity, Tybalt doth struck me in a tormenting place-my chest, inches from my heart. No one but I noticed this, no one, not even Romeo-for after I'd been struck, Tybalt's eyes widened and they filled with panic and, daresay, tears. Tyrants do not cry, not that I know of. Why would he? After that, he fled with his bloodied sword and Romeo thought all was well. Hah. I cursed their houses, for I am of Royal Blood and the Prince, my own cousin, will be most displeased though this be some fault of mine own. Once I was tended to in house near, Benvolio did tell Romeo my predicament and his soul did tear. That damned Tybalt, foolish in thought, returned; but why I wonder? With a bravado matching mine own he insulted both Romeo and me and they fought. All through the streets of that city I dared called home; they fought-as citizens and travelers alike watched the spectacle in awe. Well, it was Romeo who bested that fair Tybalt who lay on the cobblestone ground, Life left his cheeks and as I watched Romeo cried out in anguish and fled the scene. So, in my Happiest Day, I am slain and so is my love. If only our personalities were not so conflicting, if our tongues could be held for I do know what he felt, for he told me in short phrase ages ago. Yet, why and how I could still deem dear Romeo my friend and would not put him under Tybalt, well, that's where the fight between we started. A Lover's Spat, I think they call it? The prince does decree Romeo's banishment and as I graced the clouds I doth seen Romeo in the arms of fairer Juliet, who like Rosaline, is a Capulet! So, it was not Rosaline those nights ago.and I must say that I do like the sound of Romeo and Juliet far more than Romeo and Rosaline. Thrice the Act in the summer 1506 Night of Death There are 'vantages of being dead that no one every mentioned. A little graveside humor for myself. I find many errors when re-reading this journal. Upon my third page, I failed to mention that I was up many hours sitting and contemplating my Death. Why am I still in Verona-and if I'm here, then.where be Tybalt. If not together in Life, then surely Death- wishful thinking from a man, in his best suit, lying in a dark, damp dead catacomb. Aye, back on the 'vantages of being dead. You can travel into anyone's house you please! No one sees you, there are those who sense you- being of holy nature-and condemn your soul, but apart from that, all is well! What estate do I stumble upon but that of fair Juliet? When you're a spirit, you can feel people and there was the most unpleasant feeling coming from her. Her feelings tore at me and reached into the depths of my stomach only to reveal that I am not a mere shell of myself as I was-I'm still very much alive! I think so anyway. In my Chamber Mother was grieving almost as bad as Juliet. Though, I know Juliet does not grieve for me and I don't expect her too. She has that family of hers confused enough-they think she mourns Tybalt as they do. If they only knew the truth. I may be one to shoot off at the mouth, but it takes no time to figure out what was going on-besides, listening to that Friar as he mutters and plods along always helps. Yes, so the old conniver married those two kids. Everyone sing your praises of Love conquering Hate because it really only gets worse after this. Through Juliet's sobs and salty eyes, I got that they had not actually been married long before mine own demise, much less Tybalt. Romeo and Tybalt were related! I wonder if he ever planned on telling me; I would've told him about Tybalt in more detail had I the chance. You know that there's a loathsome, filthy, wretch of county after Romeo's wife? Goes by the name of Paris, he does, the rogue. My rapier is of little use now that I'm gone-but I'd slay him in the name of Romeo. I can feel love emitting from this Paris, but I don't know what it's for-Juliet or her monument! He's to marry her, he is.if only I could find Romeo and tell him of this. It would have to be to be through paper, for speaking to communicating with the Living is like a cat speaking to an owl. Aye, the wedding is in but a day or so-hey, remember us? There are some guys that just died over here! We're dead and the Capulets seem not care. There's something in the air, and it isn't this pointless candles Mother put in here in my "memory"-it is either someone or something approaching. Something is happening that those people cannot see! My heart goes out to Juliet and it must be solely because I am Death's Pet because otherwise, I would not care for the moon.
Another Day with the Secondary Acts of Torment Summer morning-1506 still For only having written three days straight, I no longer wake restlessly, with the thoughts from the night before reeling in my head, demanding they be intentioned with my acknowledgement! I write early, for today will be a day of days! I will do as Romeo and proclaim my "Love" to that one that my eyes linger on and my mind is so set on. It is time to head out and with my rapier; I christen this day to be my happiest yet. Summer evening Re-reading that first bit, I have to laugh at myself. "This day to be my happiest"?! What nonsense, utter and foolish and having not securer footing than a half-built ladder! If anything "good" 'append to day, it was Romeo's fighting for me. The pacifist dropped that performance and brandished a sword rather justly. I do but get ahead of myself, for to you who do not know, I am dead. A grave man to be in but a few hours. I was neither Montague nor Capulet but here I am, dead because of it. I could blame Romeo-for he is the one that tried to stop my fighting of Tybalt and with such an opportunity, Tybalt doth struck me in a tormenting place-my chest, inches from my heart. No one but I noticed this, no one, not even Romeo-for after I'd been struck, Tybalt's eyes widened and they filled with panic and, daresay, tears. Tyrants do not cry, not that I know of. Why would he? After that, he fled with his bloodied sword and Romeo thought all was well. Hah. I cursed their houses, for I am of Royal Blood and the Prince, my own cousin, will be most displeased though this be some fault of mine own. Once I was tended to in house near, Benvolio did tell Romeo my predicament and his soul did tear. That damned Tybalt, foolish in thought, returned; but why I wonder? With a bravado matching mine own he insulted both Romeo and me and they fought. All through the streets of that city I dared called home; they fought-as citizens and travelers alike watched the spectacle in awe. Well, it was Romeo who bested that fair Tybalt who lay on the cobblestone ground, Life left his cheeks and as I watched Romeo cried out in anguish and fled the scene. So, in my Happiest Day, I am slain and so is my love. If only our personalities were not so conflicting, if our tongues could be held for I do know what he felt, for he told me in short phrase ages ago. Yet, why and how I could still deem dear Romeo my friend and would not put him under Tybalt, well, that's where the fight between we started. A Lover's Spat, I think they call it? The prince does decree Romeo's banishment and as I graced the clouds I doth seen Romeo in the arms of fairer Juliet, who like Rosaline, is a Capulet! So, it was not Rosaline those nights ago.and I must say that I do like the sound of Romeo and Juliet far more than Romeo and Rosaline. Thrice the Act in the summer 1506 Night of Death There are 'vantages of being dead that no one every mentioned. A little graveside humor for myself. I find many errors when re-reading this journal. Upon my third page, I failed to mention that I was up many hours sitting and contemplating my Death. Why am I still in Verona-and if I'm here, then.where be Tybalt. If not together in Life, then surely Death- wishful thinking from a man, in his best suit, lying in a dark, damp dead catacomb. Aye, back on the 'vantages of being dead. You can travel into anyone's house you please! No one sees you, there are those who sense you- being of holy nature-and condemn your soul, but apart from that, all is well! What estate do I stumble upon but that of fair Juliet? When you're a spirit, you can feel people and there was the most unpleasant feeling coming from her. Her feelings tore at me and reached into the depths of my stomach only to reveal that I am not a mere shell of myself as I was-I'm still very much alive! I think so anyway. In my Chamber Mother was grieving almost as bad as Juliet. Though, I know Juliet does not grieve for me and I don't expect her too. She has that family of hers confused enough-they think she mourns Tybalt as they do. If they only knew the truth. I may be one to shoot off at the mouth, but it takes no time to figure out what was going on-besides, listening to that Friar as he mutters and plods along always helps. Yes, so the old conniver married those two kids. Everyone sing your praises of Love conquering Hate because it really only gets worse after this. Through Juliet's sobs and salty eyes, I got that they had not actually been married long before mine own demise, much less Tybalt. Romeo and Tybalt were related! I wonder if he ever planned on telling me; I would've told him about Tybalt in more detail had I the chance. You know that there's a loathsome, filthy, wretch of county after Romeo's wife? Goes by the name of Paris, he does, the rogue. My rapier is of little use now that I'm gone-but I'd slay him in the name of Romeo. I can feel love emitting from this Paris, but I don't know what it's for-Juliet or her monument! He's to marry her, he is.if only I could find Romeo and tell him of this. It would have to be to be through paper, for speaking to communicating with the Living is like a cat speaking to an owl. Aye, the wedding is in but a day or so-hey, remember us? There are some guys that just died over here! We're dead and the Capulets seem not care. There's something in the air, and it isn't this pointless candles Mother put in here in my "memory"-it is either someone or something approaching. Something is happening that those people cannot see! My heart goes out to Juliet and it must be solely because I am Death's Pet because otherwise, I would not care for the moon.