Romeo helped Juliet across the creek bed. It was only a foot deep, but the water was brisk and cold, the rocks were slippery, and Juliet was wearing the impractical but stylish shoes that her mother had insisted she wear.
Sometimes, she really hated that bitch.
But Juliet was with her Romeo, and that was something. Her foot gave way again.
Romeo gently but firmly held her wrist, “Careful, my love, tis much for me to lose.”
Juliet nodded, laughing at herself, “My thoughts are here and far away at once.”
They arrived at the other end of the creek bed, and started to climb a shallow but slick embankment. They stopped at the sounds of something above. Juliet realized that she was wearing that milk-white dress her mother had had custom tailored, and then had forced her to wear every Sunday. Was this Sunday? Didn’t matter. White dress in the forest was a really crappy choice, no matter the day of the week.
Juliet dropped, and felt the hoop in her skirt lift the back up. She must have looked like an umbrella on its side. She managed to bend the hoop with a quick crack and flatten the skirt. Mud was going to ruin this dress forever. Good riddance.
Romeo scanned the tree line above them, his body pressed against the thick carpet of vines and leaves, as he scurried towards Juliet, “By’s voice, this should be the lord Othello.” Indeed, Othello emerged above, panting. He carried a bloody blade, his clothing was torn, and he bore a frantic look in his eyes. He glanced down into the valley, turned his head to the right and then to the left, and finally set off to his right, continuing on in the direction he had been going. If he had seen Romeo or Juliet, he had given no indication.
Romeo whispered, “What say we set our foot near to his heel?”
Juliet nodded. That guy was going somewhere. Somewhere seemed significantly better than the nowhere they were now.
No comments:
Post a Comment