"O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale."
Act III, Scene V
Dreams
By Sydney Riddle
She was pale, shaking. The healthy cream of her white skin had drained to the color of a dull paste, and as she sat idly with her legs hanging off the side of the bed she appeared almost an ashen gray. Her eyes were dark, her lids swollen, and when Romeo wrapped his arms around her, his lips brushing against her ear she regarded him with no expression. Fear or something more than being frightened lingered there, but nothing else. There was nothing more he could do; her world was falling apart.
"Juliet?" he whispered, lightly fingering a loose curl and tucking it behind her ear, sweeping the rest of her hair off her shoulders, "Shhh… my love…"
She pressed her face into his hand, her breathing ragged and uneven as her whole body began to tremble uncontrollably. No, she thought as she felt herself pulled towards him, the sheets bunching up between them while his calloused hands wiped away the tears streaking down her face. This cannot be happening…
She reached up to touch her face, her fingers gliding over the damp silk, to the bridge of her nose, the golden fabric already creased from a heavy evening's wear. It was stiflingly hot, beads of sweat already forming across her forehead and collecting at the edge of her mask. She reached behind her head and undid the clasp, and it fell into a crumpled heap in her hands. Slipping through her grasp to drift into a puddle of mud from that afternoon's shower, she reached down to pick it up, her soiled sunburst drooping lifelessly in her hands.
A streak of lightning broke across the sky, illuminating the crypt's courtyard for a split second. The angels stared at her, their smiles morbid and foreboding with hands folded in a prayer of aching forgiveness. She shivered and glanced up at the sky. Rain suddenly began to pour down from the swirling darkness. As each droplet hit her body, it sizzled and burned, leaving a welt, yet she couldn't seem to move from her spot on the path. She was stuck, frozen to her position. In the distance she could see a shadow of someone walking towards her, arms outstretched… beckoning, calling.
Romeo. She could faintly make out his tunic, his white sleeves billowing out from behind him like a Gabriel sent by God. She called out to him, but he seemed to take no notice of her, only fading into the darkness.
Another clap of thunder resonated off the stone walls. Where are you taking me, Romeo? She took a shuddering step forward, a sharp pain slicing through her breast as she attempted to follow him. Clutching her side, she let the mask slip through her fingers, pinching her skin to try and lessen the pain to a dull throb. A long gash had ripped apart her bodice and blood was spilling out onto the sun-drenched gown, soft and warm.
For a split second she could make out the silhouette of an arbor from the lightning, the walkway reeking of dying roses, the air pungent and sweet. A thorn had caught itself on the lining of her dress and was now glistening darkly in the night, the point stained black with her blood.
"Dry sorrow drinks our blood."
Her head snapped to the direction his voice was coming from.
"Adieu, adieu!" he gasped.
Only a few paces ahead of her, a door creaked closed.
"Romeo!"
Running forward, her hands met the thick wood paneling of her fears. Twisting the knob, she pounded on the door, sobbing for her husband. The key? Where was the key? She frantically searched about the threshold, groping the doorframe for some sort of sign.
He was trapped, locked inside the dark crypt. She screamed, sliding down the wall, her head in her hands rocking back and forth. My Lord, please. It seemed she could feel his breath slowly pulsating through her body, his agonizing whispers of love and adoration scorching her heart.
"Romeo… Romeo…"
His breath stopped.
Romeo held her till morning, safe in his arms. When the first beams of light buttered her face, her eyelids fluttered softly open as he gently laid her down on the bed. He hovered over her as his lips brushed against hers, a silent whisper, a silent promise spoken into her mouth. She responded ever so slightly, the dregs of sleep still heavy in her eyes as he caressed her mouth with his. He deepened the kiss, reveling in the way her skin felt beneath his hands, as if the sun radiated from her very body. Their mouths moved rhythmically against each other, and he leaned down to kiss her again, touching her sallow cheekbones still damp from the night before.
"I must go," he whispered.
"The nightingale—," she replied hazily, turning her face to look at him with childlike innocence.
"The lark. Look," he nodded towards the sunlight streaming in through the panes of glass, the light bouncing off his chin as he spoke.
"No," she shook her head, sitting up, "it can't be. Oh God, please don't leave me. I can't lose you again." She clutched his shirt in her hands.
He looked at her, puzzled at her words, "You're not going to lose me," he smoothed back her hair and laid a kiss on her forehead, "You're never going to lose me."
She only smiled weakly, somewhat assured by his voice alone that it was all but a dream.
"Have faith, Juliet," he scooped her up in his arms and spun her around, her laughter ringing in his ears.
"Juliet!" her nurse shrieked from outside the door, pounding the hard wood with her meaty fists, "Juliet! Your lady mother is awake! Oh, she's here. She's here!"
Romeo set her down quickly and caught her as she almost lost her balance.
"Go," she grabbed his shoes from the dresser and thrust them toward him, "Don't wait a moment longer."
He stumbled out onto the balcony, pulling on a boot as he went, the sun haphazardly dancing across his back.
"Will I ever see you again?" she asked from the doorway, leaning against its tall frame.
He stopped and walked back towards her, "This is true love."
He pulled her closer to him. She wrapped her arms around him, taking in his scent, like juniper and incense from the monastery on Sundays. She breathed in deeply, wanting more than anything to remain like this forever.
"Go," she whispered.
He descended down the balcony. She watched him until he had gone, his form swallowed up by the early morning mist. Fresh tears sprung to her eyes as she turned back towards her bedroom. She wondered how many days her husband had left to live.
Perhaps this time her dreams would not come true.
Fin.