Juliet Rising

Chapter 1

Fair Verona was a city of ringing bells, a city follow of winding rivers and canals. Of busy markets and bustling trade that broke the quiet mornings with their ritualistic hymns. And fair Verona was where I was born.

Every morning for the last five days, the dance of bells would reach my ears. I would lay in bed, somewhere between dreaming and waking, wondering if those strange visions I had seen were real. Visions that had been occurring for what seemed like days, or even, perhaps, years.

In those dreams, I was at dances I had never been to, talking with people I've never talked to.

And a youth...a beautiful youth whose face changed but always spoke the same words to me..."If I profane with my unworthiest hand..." and together we danced in a whirlwind of colors, our words even faster than the steps.

The dreams, those dreams with the youth whose face was as inconstant as the winds - never the same and yet always so beautiful. Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of us as he led me onto the floor. From the corner of my eye I could see my reflection, staring back at me from a window, a small mirror, the glint of some lady's jewel. My face...and yet not my face. Like the youth, my face always changed. Sometimes I was blond with blue eyes. Sometimes I had had red hair and green eyes. Sometimes I was tall and sometimes I was petite. 

I was never the same person and yet I knew, I knew that I was me. I was Juliet.

Or was I?

And then those lovely dances would change. Romance, violence, death. Again and again. Over and over in an endless cycle. It was as if I was living the same life, falling in love the same way and with the same person. And plunging the dagger into my heart a hundred million times.

It was at that moment when the bells would ring and I would wake up, finding myself in my bed staring at the canopy, wondering what a strange nightmare it was to have. I raised my hand to my face, there was no blood on it yet. Why would I kill myself?

Why? 

That question seemed to always been at the edge of my mind. Skimming the surface of consciousness until one day, one mundane and ordinary day, I decided to do something about it. 

This morning, as I lay away, staring and thinking, Nurse knocked on my door and bade me to get up. My mother wanted to talk to me about the upcoming party Father was throwing. They had found me a match that they wanted me to marry.

"Juliet, the hour! You must not daydream the day away!" Nurse said as she laid my clothes out, "You head is in the clouds again." She clucked at me, "One day a good man would pull you back to this earth and make a good wife out of you."

"If I could I would fly away." I would reply as she pulled the gown over my head, still thinking of that dream "I do not wished to be dragged down by anyone."

Nurse stared at me, "What's gotten into you, child? Are you ill?" I was never one to respond so rebelliously.

"I had a strange dream." Then I asked her, "Nurse. Do you ever feel as if...as if you've done these things before. As if you've spent lifetimes performing the same acts over and over again. As if you've been you for hundreds of years? Forever and the same?"

The Nurse looked at me with genuine concern. The silence stretched between us. 

 I smiled, seeing that I have pushed too much and too far, "It's nothing, I have let my imagination get the best of me."

"Take care, mistress." Nurse warned me, "Men want sensible wives. Don't let your imagination and silliness get in the way of a good prospect."

The Juliet who never had visions would have perhaps smiled and agreed. That Juliet would have dutifully put on her best dress to see her mother.

Instead I said, "Please tell my mother I will see her in the afternoon. I am feeling ill."

The Nurse gave me a strange look as she closed my doors once more. I stared out at the balcony and then at the ladder that a workman had left that connected me directly to the world outside.

 Suddenly, I rose and dressed in some of the simpler clothing I had in my wardrobe, fumbling with the buttons in my haste.

Carefully I stepped over the balcony and went down the ladder. The workmen had not started this morning and I was able to step out of the garden with ease and onto the main street.

Those dreams felt so vivid and so real. Perhaps they were just part of my imagination. And then I remembered the youth's face and his name. Romeo of House Montague. That was a start. 

Perhaps I could find him before this tragedy was set in motion and change our fates.