f-teardrops: This was for an English assignment, where we had to write a
one page sequel to "The Lady or the Tiger?". It's the exact same assignment
I had as last year's. *big sigh* But at least I got to have fun with it!
Enjoy!
Jamie: Yeah, it's pretty good!
Lydia: Except for the ending---it's so---
f-teardrops & Jamie: SHHHH!!!
Lydia: Okay, okay! *rolls eyes*
~*~
She watched him with bated breath as he strode up to the two doors. How brave he was! How strongly he trusted her. . . For a moment, she fought the urge to rise and shout his name one last time---for he would never be hers again. Instead, he would belong to the----
"TIGER!" the crowd screamed, their cries in a mad, fierce, medley of discord. The golden beast padded out from its opened cage and instantly jumped over the youth, relishing its newfound freedom. The boy turned and found his way blocked by the tiger, which was eyeing him critically, perhaps determining whether he was meaty enough to worth his time. The crowd murmured amongst themselves, debating how long the young lover would last. The princess paid the chattering crowd no mind, as did the youth. His eyes were staring straight at hers. She glared definitely back, emerald eyes fervent and burning, daring him to challenge her decision. 'Were you expecting mercy?' she thought coldly. 'You'll have none. This is what you deserve, for loving that other unworthy wench.'
Dark blue eyes saw her furious gaze and saddened in recognition. But they remained unruffled and serene, both irritating and heartrending to the princess at the same time. He lowered his head in what seemed to the rest of the crowd as a submissive gesture, but she saw his mournful smile before he hid his face. He had spoken to her heart directly, saying words his lips could not. 'I would never hurt you. . .'
She tore her eyes from the solemn figure, too caught up in a whirlwind of emotions to think. What was this? Was he begging for pity? Well, he would have none, if he thought she could be as easily won as that---she was a princess, and not to be taken lightly. Yet still her heart quickened in its beating as she agonized over what would happen next. Surely that tiger would tear her love apart. Could she bear to watch? Was her choice the right one? Her eyes drifted aimlessly and came to rest on her father. His was elated, his smile smug, and gripping the armrests of his throne like the handle of his favorite sword. "Guilty, eh? I knew it. . .foolish lad, to think he was worthy of my daughter. . ."
The princess turned away, disgusted. What did his father know about matters of love and true worthiness? He had beheaded her mother after discovering that she had given birth to a girl! Her head spun with dizziness as she tried to calm her rage. It was then that she noticed the chattering of the masses had suddenly silenced. Strange. Celadon spheres glanced around at the silent spectators, all hushed and serious, and swept over the arena, where they widened. The tiger was still pacing, but no blood shone on his fangs or claws. Its gaze was fixated on the prone figure of a young man, graceful in death as in life, sprawled on the arena floor. He may have appeared to be sleeping, if not for the pool of crimson framing his head like some halo of blood. A silver dagger lay in his hand, tainted with the stains of death. Her heart chilled at the sight.
Through a haze of confusion and pain, she saw the keepers of the tiger arrive to drive it back to the cage---there was no point in watching a tiger tearing apart a corpse---and the priests came into the arena. Dressed in stiff robes of black, they gathered around the body, sprinkling it with holy water and flowers, and reciting the last rites. It was at this that the princess finally regained control of her senses. She stood up, pushing her throne away, and rushed out of the royal box. She blocked out the shocked and angry cries of her father, too distraught to care. Her mind echoed with dark, unknown whispers, pain and sorrow drowning her in their dark depths. Down a flight of stairs she ran, around a corner, down another set of steps. She tripped over her high-heeled slippers once---but she stopped only long enough to discard them, and ran on. . .
When she reached the entrance to the arena, it was blocked by a burly guard and a tall, metal gate. "Open it!" she screeched, voice hysterical, eyes murderous. The guard saluted and instantly obeyed the princess, who nearly kicked him aside as she rushed to her love. How had he hid the dagger? Why had he still cared for her after she condemned him to death, by sparing him a grotesque end? She wasn't worthy of his love, the princess realized with a bittersweet jolt. Jealously had morphed her feelings into something far darker. The maiden entered the field, her eyes turning to where he had last laid. But he was not there! Then she heard the plaintive cries of the mourners, and turned to see the priests leading a procession. With them trailed six men, supporting a shrouded figure on their shoulders---her lover! They were heading towards the exit of arena to bury him in an unmarked grave, as was befit the custom of guilty souls. No! They could not do that to him---her life, her love! What remained of her semi-barbarism faded away into dust and she rushed after them, screaming in futile desperation for them to stop and let her see him one last time. But the procession was too far-gone, and they left before she could catch up. Sobbing, the princess collapsed on the dust, face in her hands. He was gone.gone forever from her. . . Her heart twisted in sadness and she thought bitterly of his words. 'You said you would never hurt me. . .but now you have. . .'
End
~*~
f-teardrops: *sniffles* I'm sorry, that was a little sad for me to write.
Jamie: Thank goodness it's just a story.
f-teardrops: Yeah. *sobs*
Lydia: Oh no. . .
Jamie: Yeah, it's pretty good!
Lydia: Except for the ending---it's so---
f-teardrops & Jamie: SHHHH!!!
Lydia: Okay, okay! *rolls eyes*
~*~
She watched him with bated breath as he strode up to the two doors. How brave he was! How strongly he trusted her. . . For a moment, she fought the urge to rise and shout his name one last time---for he would never be hers again. Instead, he would belong to the----
"TIGER!" the crowd screamed, their cries in a mad, fierce, medley of discord. The golden beast padded out from its opened cage and instantly jumped over the youth, relishing its newfound freedom. The boy turned and found his way blocked by the tiger, which was eyeing him critically, perhaps determining whether he was meaty enough to worth his time. The crowd murmured amongst themselves, debating how long the young lover would last. The princess paid the chattering crowd no mind, as did the youth. His eyes were staring straight at hers. She glared definitely back, emerald eyes fervent and burning, daring him to challenge her decision. 'Were you expecting mercy?' she thought coldly. 'You'll have none. This is what you deserve, for loving that other unworthy wench.'
Dark blue eyes saw her furious gaze and saddened in recognition. But they remained unruffled and serene, both irritating and heartrending to the princess at the same time. He lowered his head in what seemed to the rest of the crowd as a submissive gesture, but she saw his mournful smile before he hid his face. He had spoken to her heart directly, saying words his lips could not. 'I would never hurt you. . .'
She tore her eyes from the solemn figure, too caught up in a whirlwind of emotions to think. What was this? Was he begging for pity? Well, he would have none, if he thought she could be as easily won as that---she was a princess, and not to be taken lightly. Yet still her heart quickened in its beating as she agonized over what would happen next. Surely that tiger would tear her love apart. Could she bear to watch? Was her choice the right one? Her eyes drifted aimlessly and came to rest on her father. His was elated, his smile smug, and gripping the armrests of his throne like the handle of his favorite sword. "Guilty, eh? I knew it. . .foolish lad, to think he was worthy of my daughter. . ."
The princess turned away, disgusted. What did his father know about matters of love and true worthiness? He had beheaded her mother after discovering that she had given birth to a girl! Her head spun with dizziness as she tried to calm her rage. It was then that she noticed the chattering of the masses had suddenly silenced. Strange. Celadon spheres glanced around at the silent spectators, all hushed and serious, and swept over the arena, where they widened. The tiger was still pacing, but no blood shone on his fangs or claws. Its gaze was fixated on the prone figure of a young man, graceful in death as in life, sprawled on the arena floor. He may have appeared to be sleeping, if not for the pool of crimson framing his head like some halo of blood. A silver dagger lay in his hand, tainted with the stains of death. Her heart chilled at the sight.
Through a haze of confusion and pain, she saw the keepers of the tiger arrive to drive it back to the cage---there was no point in watching a tiger tearing apart a corpse---and the priests came into the arena. Dressed in stiff robes of black, they gathered around the body, sprinkling it with holy water and flowers, and reciting the last rites. It was at this that the princess finally regained control of her senses. She stood up, pushing her throne away, and rushed out of the royal box. She blocked out the shocked and angry cries of her father, too distraught to care. Her mind echoed with dark, unknown whispers, pain and sorrow drowning her in their dark depths. Down a flight of stairs she ran, around a corner, down another set of steps. She tripped over her high-heeled slippers once---but she stopped only long enough to discard them, and ran on. . .
When she reached the entrance to the arena, it was blocked by a burly guard and a tall, metal gate. "Open it!" she screeched, voice hysterical, eyes murderous. The guard saluted and instantly obeyed the princess, who nearly kicked him aside as she rushed to her love. How had he hid the dagger? Why had he still cared for her after she condemned him to death, by sparing him a grotesque end? She wasn't worthy of his love, the princess realized with a bittersweet jolt. Jealously had morphed her feelings into something far darker. The maiden entered the field, her eyes turning to where he had last laid. But he was not there! Then she heard the plaintive cries of the mourners, and turned to see the priests leading a procession. With them trailed six men, supporting a shrouded figure on their shoulders---her lover! They were heading towards the exit of arena to bury him in an unmarked grave, as was befit the custom of guilty souls. No! They could not do that to him---her life, her love! What remained of her semi-barbarism faded away into dust and she rushed after them, screaming in futile desperation for them to stop and let her see him one last time. But the procession was too far-gone, and they left before she could catch up. Sobbing, the princess collapsed on the dust, face in her hands. He was gone.gone forever from her. . . Her heart twisted in sadness and she thought bitterly of his words. 'You said you would never hurt me. . .but now you have. . .'
End
~*~
f-teardrops: *sniffles* I'm sorry, that was a little sad for me to write.
Jamie: Thank goodness it's just a story.
f-teardrops: Yeah. *sobs*
Lydia: Oh no. . .