Life In a Bottle

CHAPTER 1: Glass Half Gone

The smell of worn pages and old leather clung to the air in an inviting way. The gentle swish of page turning calmed me, a familiar thing. The worn cover of ROMEO AND JULIET felt like the skin of a lovers hand. I knew the book from cover to cover; every sentence, every word was memorized in my head.

My eyes fluttered close, and my adventure began. 

I was in another world, one much greater than mine. I drifted into Verona, a magnificent city of Montague's and Capulet's. My thoughts  drifted to the balcony scene, my favorite scene.

The book I once held was now a velvet rose, twirling in my hand. And the normal cloths I had worn was now a corset dress, with a pattern only belonging to an older time. I was leaning over a balcony, looking out over the stars, replaying everything in my head that happened that night till my heart beat accelerated.

"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," I spoke softly, smelling the rose rejoicing as it would now be Romeo's smell.

This velvet rose would symbolize Romeo, and if I couldn't have him, I would at least keep this rose. It seemed foolish, to think in such a way.  If I didn't have Romeo, if I didn't marry him, I wouldn't just brush it off and keep the rose as a memory. I would fight for him, until my heart has stopped. I didn't care if he was a Montague! Whats the difference between a Capulet and a Montague, anyway? There just names, a flimsy label to each person in Verona. Had I lived a life of not knowing what I was? Just a Capulet, nothing more. And for the matter...

"What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man!"

If this was just a name of two different people, why couldn't Romeo change his name? Or better yet, why couldn't I? "O, be some other name!" I yelled out to the stars, my grip crippling the rose.

The name of Romeo didn't matter to me, its what's inside Romeo that counts. He could be a high powered Montague or a scummy Capulet.and my heart would still grow three sizes with each kiss him. Only because he was him, this wonderful man, was the reason why. My love for him was in a righteous place, a pure place.

"So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that perfection that he owes without that tittle."

I stay still on the balcony, wrestling with my own thoughts of first lovers.

"My dearest Juliet..." the voice called out. I hadn't heard him utter 1000 words yet, but I already knew who it was.

Romeo.

I gasped, surprised he stayed risking his life to see me. Before the situation could really sink in, my hands suddenly felt tingly, like little needles poking in every square inch. It wasn't painful at first, just a little irritable. I brushed it off, because he was in here.

I flushed a scarlet red and dropped my eyes so he couldn't see. I couldn't find the words to say to him. No words seemed right, none seemed right. Despite my muteness, my heart rejoiced at his presences, his magnificent shadow stood beneath the balcony behind a hollow oak tree.

My breath caught in my throat, the tingling became more intense. It demanded my full attention now. The shaky feeling of my hands traveled up my arms and spread throughout my body. Sucked into my pain, I fumbled off the balcony by accident, but before I touched the rigid rocks two things happened. 1.) Romeo screamed my name with such rigid terror, "Juliet!" He ran to catch me, but he was too far away. The light wings of love wouldn't help him this time. 2.) I slipped back into my own mind, where there was no love in my heart, and no wondrous evening I open my eyes back to the dusty library.