Categories > Original > Historical
Dinner with Shakespeare
0 reviews**Wow don't know how I managed to miss this but I had the wrong story posted here. I posted the Storm twice. This is the REAL assignment. Another assignment for Advanced Composition :) I hope you...
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He was, as if he’d always been. The crease of his brow intent with thought as the metal fork scratched across the cold, porcelain plate. He was alone, as usual, but that didn’t cease the conversation. As he lifted the succulent turkey to his awaiting lips that were forever frozen in a frown, another thought crossed his mind. His head was never empty as he was constantly pondering new ideas for his characters.
Tonight was like every other night in his empty home. Though it was empty, it was never quiet. Whispers could be heard from every corner of the property, promptly followed by the rustling of paper. The only silent moments were while he was chewing or sleeping, and even then some noise could be heard.
“Why couldn’t I be more like you, Romeo?” He asked the book sitting to his left. “To be loved fully by a woman as beautiful as Juliette. Or, even like you, Hamlet, though your love went utterly mad.” Books could not speak; yet, somehow, they seemed to carry on the conversation with their writer.
“My dear sir, you do not need the undying love of a woman. You have our unending love already and the love for words as well. A woman would only keep you from your passion and desire to write.”
William slowly chewed his food and thought for a moment, allowing the words of dear Hamlet to process in his mind. “You are ever so correct. With the two of you around, I have all the company I could ask for.” Yet, this does not satisfy the poet as he glances around the empty table at all of the papers and dirty dishes strewn about. His thoughts of marrying a beautiful woman did not cease as he meticulously ate his corn a single kernel at a time.
As one hand was slowly picking at his plate, the other was smoothly jotting down notes for a new play. His pen was a swan on a pearl lake gliding gently, freely and quickly across and back until finally reaching its destination at the end of the page. The words, Taming of the Shrew sprawled haphazardly atop the paper as if he hadn’t even glanced down whilst writing.
Shortly after, his fork was once again screeching against the now empty plate. Not a single scrap of food could be found, making it seem as if nothing was there to begin with. The gurgle from his stomach would cause one to believe he hadn’t eaten anything at all, but he knew otherwise. His wooden chair scraped against the hard wood floor as he pushed himself away from the round wooden table. For a brief moment, whilst he smoothed a strand of scraggly hair behind his left ear, he envisioned himself eating as Hamlet in the castle, with his mother and uncle.
Silently, he turned on his heels and left for his bedroom. Thoughts of a party flitted through his brain as he wished he could be the one courting the fair maiden instead of taming her wretched sister. He feared he was destined to be alone, his pen his only mate and his only entrance to the world of laughter and love.
He sat upon his bed, silent save for the squeak of his shoes on the floor. With his finger, he scraped remnants of his corn out of his off-white teeth then proceeded to end his night the same, once again.
Tonight was like every other night in his empty home. Though it was empty, it was never quiet. Whispers could be heard from every corner of the property, promptly followed by the rustling of paper. The only silent moments were while he was chewing or sleeping, and even then some noise could be heard.
“Why couldn’t I be more like you, Romeo?” He asked the book sitting to his left. “To be loved fully by a woman as beautiful as Juliette. Or, even like you, Hamlet, though your love went utterly mad.” Books could not speak; yet, somehow, they seemed to carry on the conversation with their writer.
“My dear sir, you do not need the undying love of a woman. You have our unending love already and the love for words as well. A woman would only keep you from your passion and desire to write.”
William slowly chewed his food and thought for a moment, allowing the words of dear Hamlet to process in his mind. “You are ever so correct. With the two of you around, I have all the company I could ask for.” Yet, this does not satisfy the poet as he glances around the empty table at all of the papers and dirty dishes strewn about. His thoughts of marrying a beautiful woman did not cease as he meticulously ate his corn a single kernel at a time.
As one hand was slowly picking at his plate, the other was smoothly jotting down notes for a new play. His pen was a swan on a pearl lake gliding gently, freely and quickly across and back until finally reaching its destination at the end of the page. The words, Taming of the Shrew sprawled haphazardly atop the paper as if he hadn’t even glanced down whilst writing.
Shortly after, his fork was once again screeching against the now empty plate. Not a single scrap of food could be found, making it seem as if nothing was there to begin with. The gurgle from his stomach would cause one to believe he hadn’t eaten anything at all, but he knew otherwise. His wooden chair scraped against the hard wood floor as he pushed himself away from the round wooden table. For a brief moment, whilst he smoothed a strand of scraggly hair behind his left ear, he envisioned himself eating as Hamlet in the castle, with his mother and uncle.
Silently, he turned on his heels and left for his bedroom. Thoughts of a party flitted through his brain as he wished he could be the one courting the fair maiden instead of taming her wretched sister. He feared he was destined to be alone, his pen his only mate and his only entrance to the world of laughter and love.
He sat upon his bed, silent save for the squeak of his shoes on the floor. With his finger, he scraped remnants of his corn out of his off-white teeth then proceeded to end his night the same, once again.
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