NOTE:
This 'what if' story takes place in an alternate timeline of
Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. In the original, Romeo only returns
to Verona after hearing of Juliet's 'death', and makes it
successfully to her resting place. In this timeline, Juliet does not
receive the potion that shall fake her death, and instead, Romeo
openly defies his exile and returns to Verona, hoping to convince
Juliet to run away with him. Instead, he is apprehended by the Prince
and his guards. It is not long before Juliet, and indeed most of
southern Verona have heard the news. Romeo of the Montagues is to be
executed at six in the evening, five days after his capture.
ROMEO
AND JULIET ALTERNATE ENDING BY J.P. FISCHER
Dwomm. Dwomm.
The dull roar of the crowd outside
sank to a murmur as the church bell rang. Juliet clapped her hands to
her ears, slipping slightly as the booming sound bit at her ears.
Outside, hundreds of bloodthirsty spectators cheered wildly. The
clock had struck six o' clock in the evening, the blood sun
descending into the murky horizon. Any moment now...
Juliet scrambled to her feet,
hoisting her dress above her ankles and continued gingerly. The
cathedral's spiral staircase wound upwards, slinking its narrow way
up towards the roof. Breathing deeply, Juliet took a moment to steady
herself, leaning on the outer wall of the staircase. Glimmers of
burning sunlight streamed pitifully through the slit, which was
likely built for archers in times of war. Shielding her eyes, Juliet
poked her face into the slit, raking the crowd with her eyes. The
crowd stretched out nearly a hundred metres, gravitating feverishly
around a raised platform, directly in front of the hulking cathedral,
a cathedral which, unbeknownst to the crowd, now housed a rogue
Capulet, making her way steadily to the top.
Dwomm. Dwomm.
Juliet peered to the ground, and a
feeling of nausea struck her suddenly.
Her face lightened a few
shades whiter as she appreciated the height of the building. By her
reckoning, she guessed she was about three quarters up the massive
tower. Juliet had sound knowledge of angles and other mathematics,
which had been taught to her by the droning teacher of the Capulet
household. Some of the knowledge that had constantly been thrown at
her must have stuck however, at least a basic understanding. Although
she couldn't see it, Juliet knew that a twin tower stood to her
right, two twin pinnacles at either side of the cathedral, stark and
white against the pinkish-grey sky.
Dwomm. Dwomm.
"Romeo, of the Montague Clan!"
The crowd exploded with a violent
sort of excitement. The ceremony had begun. The announcer raised his
hand for quiet, but the anticipation was infectious, and it took a
good minute for the din to settle. While the rabble slowly died away,
Juliet searched the crowd, a knot forming in her throat. The
Montague's stood directly to the left of the platform, half of them
morose and the other half livid. One foolish Montague boy shouted
something indistinguishable, and ran towards the platform furiously.
Two members of the crowd rushed forward, and beat him brutally. No
one was going to get in the way of the first public execution in
years. With her heart sinking even lower, Juliet spotted her fellow
Capulets, standing in opposition to the Montagues, Mother and Father
grinning and waving at Lord and Lady Montague, who turned their heads
away, although out of shame, fear or anger, Juliet could not tell.
Perhaps a mixture of all three. A few slave savages stood behind the
Capulets. Members of the audience threw stones at them, and they
grunted stupidly as the pellets hit their light clothes. Juliet felt
a strange mixture of enjoyment at the punishment, but also slight
pity for the savages. Drawing her eyes away from the slaves, Juliet
saw the Prince of Verona standing beside the executioner, his
expression moody.
Dwomm. Dwomm.
Then, tears coming to her eyes,
Juliet looked down upon Romeo, the love of her life, bound in the
stocks. With a cry that died halfway through her throat, Juliet
popped her head out of the slit, turned, and hurried up the stairs,
wiping the tears from her eyes. But she had gone no more than a dozen
steps when she ran into a very solid object, and slipped down the
stairs, smashing down onto the next platform. Blinking the stars out
of her eyes, Juliet saw a tall, thin man coming down the stairs. He
held out a hand in offering, an encouraging smile on his face, but
Juliet pulled herself up.
"What is your business in the
cathedral?" She said, putting in an extra effort to sound
dignified. The man grinned even more broadly. He looked vaguely
familiar, like an old friend Juliet had long forgotten.
"I see we are thinking the same
thing." His smile didn't falter as he said this. If anything, it
grew wider as he descended a few steps. His reply took Juliet by
surprise, and it took her a moment to respond.
"I... I-I fancied a stroll." It
sounded even worse in the flesh then it had in Juliet's mind. Not
even the most empty-headed of Montagues could mistake that for the
truth.
"Up a six-story church?"
Juliet gulped. The man had pressed
for more details of the lie, which was worse than straight up
challenging her truthfulness. She bobbed up and down pointlessly for
a moment, considering an answer. Instead, she decided to throw a
curveball.
"What's your name, young sir?"
She asked, steering the conversation away from strolling.
Dwomm. Dwomm.
"Bridgemore, ma'am. Bridgemore of
the Capulet Clan." He said with a courteous bow. The noise of the
bell didn't even faze him, although Juliet clapped her hands to her
ears once more. After a moment, Bridgemore repeated his statement.
Juliet considered this. A Capulet was
technically under her power, but she doubted that even if this man
were a Montague, she wouldn't feel any safer.
"Well... Bridgemore of the
Capulets. If you will kindly step aside. I have important business to
attend to."
His smile grew even wider.
"Don't you think it strange?"
He said, ignoring her last sentence.
"Step aside, or Lord and Lady
Capulet will hear about this!"
Once more, he ignored her.
"Strange, that Father Brimley
simply... allowed you to enter the cathedral, especially at a time of
execution?" Juliet opened her mouth stupidly, but no words came.
She hadn't even thought of that. Come to think of it, she had
gained seemingly miraculous entry to the cathedral. Bridgemore cocked
his head as he read the realization on her face.
"Normally," he continued. "Nobody
would be allowed in here. But I saw you approaching from the side...
I was on the roof, you see, and decided to point Brimley in the right
direction. I take it you are grateful?"
Juliet nodded, a steel knot appearing
in her throat. Outside, the crowd raged. Something was happening.
Juliet needed to get to the top.
"Very grateful! Very indeed! Now,
will you continue in your generous behavior, and allow me to pass?"
Somehow, Juliet knew his answer
before he even spoke.
"You cannot pass." He said with a
grin. His eyes gleamed with a strange madness.
Juliet shifted slightly, weighing her
options. Going down would be to forfeit the plan, but Bridgemore,
despite being skinny, seemed capable of preventing her further
passage.
Dwomm. Dwomm.
"I will inform Lord and Lady
Capulet!"
Grinning even further, he said
wickedly, "You cannot pass." Without moving his head, his hand
moved to his belt, and he drew out a long, thin knife, jagged and
dull.
Juliet gasped, backing down the
stairs.
"You shall not kill me!" She
said, her remark being injected with a sudden burst of anger.
Bridgemore paused, and his smile faltered. For a moment, he seemed
genuinely confused.
"Kill you? No, fair lady. Why kill
you?" He said, his eyes glinting hungrily. "When there is so
much... time?"
He drew the knife level with her
torso, pushing her against the outer wall. Outside, the crowd once
again roared.
"Do not move." He said excitedly.
But Juliet did move. With a scream of desperation, she pushed out her
leg, hitting him hard in the shin. Bridgemore fell to the ground
painfully, knife still in hand. His face livid, he slashed the knife
at her, snarling like an animal. But he did it with too much force,
and the knife missed her and slipped out of his hand, smacking hilt
first against the wall and clattering to the floor, just above
Juliet. He threw himself towards it, but with another wild kick from
Juliet he fell back to the floor, and she snatched the knife, her
heart pumping desperately. Wielding the knife, she threw himself on
top of him, and held the knife above his chest. With a guttural
bellow, she thrust the knife down, hard. For a moment, they
struggled, and all was heat and confusion and blood. Slowly,
Bridgemore stiffened, until he became still. Juliet was lying on the
ground, a nasty bruise blossoming on her forehead. She raised a hand
to feel it, but was shocked to find her face wet. Fat tears were
rolling from her eyes, and for a while she simply wept, mourning over
the body of her assailant. A sudden uproar from the crowd outside
anchored her back to reality.
Dwomm. Dwomm.
Staggering to her feet, still crying
wildly, Juliet took a shaky step up the stairs, and then another.
Soon she was scrambling up the stairs, teardrops falling with
pathetic plunks
on the stone, as she cried into the darkness.
"Forgive me! Forgive me! Forgive
me!" For several minutes
she simply climbed, sorrow overtaking her body, blubbering and
weeping. Eventually, the tears stopped, and she was left with a dead,
hollow feeling, ten times worse than the crying. After what seemed an
age of tragedy, the spiral staircase became lighter, the grey fading
to an off white. Before she had even registered what had happened,
her eyes were blinded, and she toppled over, the wind raging in her
ears. As she lay there, her dress dusty and bloody, her eyes
adjusted, and she realized she had made it. She was on top of the
cathedral. Over the hills, she could see the sun burning away into a
pink smog. Dragging herself to the edge of the cathedral, she peered
over the edge. Before she could see what was happening, she had
pulled herself back away from the edge, and was promptly sick.
Nothing, not even the view from the stairwell arrow slit, could've
prepared her for the height of the cathedral. Once more, she pulled
herself to the edge, lying parallel to the border. She stared down,
and realized the announcer was speaking. He held a wooden cone to his
mouth, which magnified his voice rather ineffectively, although
Juliet could still make it out.
"Romeo!" He shouted. "You stand
accused of the murder of Tybalt Capulet, possible murder of Mercutio
Montague, trespassing on Capulet property, trying to enter fair
Verona with a poisonous substance, and defiance of your previous
sentence of banishment! Do you deny any of these charges?"
The crowd stared at Romeo, whose face
could not be seen by Juliet. After a moment, he gave a small shake of
his head. The crowd roared, the bloodlust rising. Juliet thought she
had wept all her tears down in the stairwell. She was wrong. Small
droplets flew through the air, spiraling into nothingness.
Dwomm. Dwomm.
The bell rang again, but Juliet did
not raise her hands. It was louder than ever, but she let it stab at
her ears. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.
"Well," continued the announcer.
"If the accused has no final words?" Romeo gave another shake of
his head.
"He's crying!" shouted
someone from the crowd, and although Juliet could not tell, she knew
it must be true. Perhaps he was thinking of her. The crowd jeered and
booed, but the announcer raised his hand for quiet, and for once, he
got it. He looked at the executioner, who was masked and menacing,
and gave a grim nod. Juliet looked away as the executioner raised his
axe, and moaned as she heard the unmistakable sound of steel hitting
wood. Looking for one last time at the sky, the beautiful sky, Juliet
rolled off the chapel, her plan complete. The wind roared in her
ears, her limbs flapping around pointlessly. Mad
love, indeed. She thought.
Then, with a sickening crack,
the world of Juliet Capulet became still and dark.
Ask not for whom the bell tolls.
Dwomm. Dwomm.
It tolls for thee.
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