The Tragedy of Pyramus and Thisbe--Modern

Dun Dun Dunnnnn. So, I had to write this for English (it seems like I have to write a lot for English, huh?). We had to write a modern telling of Pyramus and Thisbe. Basically, it's Romeo and Juliet, but not. This actually was written long before R&J, which I never woulda guessed. Anyhoo, this is like the first time I've ever written anything in third person, so tell me how it is. :)

Vote, Comment, Fan. Yaa know. xD

P.S I'm in a good mood, which is weird, 'cause I just wrote a tragedy...? Ah well.

The Tragedy of Pyramus and Thisbe

A Modern Retelling--The Tragedy of Peter and Thea

Peter was a handsome man. Though he was legally insane, the women could not help but swoon when their eyes met with his. They looked past the fact that he was mental, and focused only on his face. The face of an angel; the face of a god, they’d say.

One day, Peter went too far. He was not able to control himself, and made a mistake that he would forever regret. This mistake landed him directly into the state asylum, for life.

            In a neighboring state lived the fairest dame, Thea. She was beautiful, with golden locks falling to her waist. With eyes as blue as any ocean, she was capable of entrancing any man. Though she had her choice in men, she only had eyes for handsome Peter.

            She confessed her love for him, but her parents did not approve. How can you love an insane man? they'd say. Her parents simply did not understand. You cannot choose who you love, for it just happens.

Love is blind, and young Thea did not want to listen to what her parents had to say. One night, she stole away from her home, determined to see her love.

When their eyes met, they fell instantly in love with one another. They cared not what others would say, for they knew in their hearts that this love could never die.

As much as they hated it, they could not change the bars that separated each other. Peter on one side, locked forever in a padded room; and Thea on the other, free to roam the world as she pleased. The only problem being that she wanted to be nowhere else but in the arms of her love.

“Cruel bars,” they would often say, “Why must you keep two lovers apart? We mustn’t complain; you give us the privilege of passing loving words to each other, against the wills of our families.”

Eventually, the day came to an end. “Wait,” Peter called Thea, as she was about to depart. “I cannot—will not—go another day without seeing thy beautiful face. Please, agree to come again in the morrow,” he begged. She agreed, desperate to see her love again. They pressed their lips to their own side of the bars, for they could not get any closer.

The next morning came; the stars had been put out, and the newly risen sun had begun to warm the padded cell. Peter rose from his crouch in the corner, upon hearing the pitter-patter of footsteps, assuming it to be his dearest Thea. His heart sunk by the realization of it not being her.

“Who art thou?” Peter called, not recognizing the monstrous man who loomed over him. The man entered the cell, without answer. He held out a white material with several buckles towards Peter. The straight jacket.

Once Peter was securely fastened, the man set out upon his work. He flipped open his pocket knife, and began cutting away at the padding. “What art thou doing?” Peter asked, not really expecting much of an answer. “It is thou lucky day,” the man responded. “Thou hath been a good lad, and hath earned the right to a television.”

Peter was thrilled. If he had earned a television, maybe he could earn face-to-face time with Thea! Within time, he told himself.

“Thou hath my gratitude, good sir,” Peter said. Wouldn’t hurt to kiss a little ass in the mean time, he thought.

The man grunted in response.

By now, a fairly large square of the wall had been ripped free of padding. The pale grey cement wall wasn’t much of an improvement from the padding, but Peter wasn’t about to complain. The man left the cell for a moment, probably to gather tools, and shut the door securely behind him.

Peter struggled to sit up; it was quite the difficult task while in a straight jacket. After a few minutes, he had managed to gather his footing. He wandered over to the pad-less square, examining it closely.

Suddenly, Peter heard voices from outside his cell door. “I understand not why such an insane man deserves such a luxury,” one voice said. “He’s nothing but an animal. His life will amount to nothing, being stuck in a cell for the rest of it,” came another.

Why were these men saying such things about poor Peter? He’d never meant to hurt those people, it had just happened. His vision blurred, and he could only see splotches of red. He let out a strangled noise, and began vigorously bashing his head against the cement wall. “Why?” he snarled, before bashing his head again.

The door to his cell flung open, and he was quickly restrained. “I am not good enough for such a beautiful maiden!” he howled. “She is too perfect for the likes of me!”

“Calm down, man!” He recognized the voice as the one from outside his cell door. He listened to his command, only in the hopes that the man wouldn’t think him such an animal.

While the one man held him back, the only man replaced the padding upon the wall. When the wall was secured again, the man flung Peter from him, as if Peter disgusted him.

The cell door was shut securely once again, leaving Peter to his thoughts. He rested his head against the padding, and sobbed to himself.

After what seemed to be hours, Peter’s tears had begun to dry. His dear Thea would be coming soon, and he couldn’t have her see the redness around his eyes. Then she would surely think him a fool!

Minutes passed, and still Thea had not come. She must be running late, he thought. And so he waited, hunched over in a corner, still in the strait jacket. There, he fell asleep, waiting on his dear Thea.

Near an hour later, Peter awoke from his sleep. He spotted the blood on the wall, and burst into gut wrenching sobs. “My dearest Thea! Thy purest blood hath stained the walls of my confines!” he wailed. “Had I not been asleep, I might have been able to save thou from the cruel guards!” Peter hadn’t stopped to think that the blood was in fact his own, and not Thea’s.

In a great burst of rage, Peter tore himself free from the straitjacket. With a great shout, he barreled himself towards the door. The guards came running from all over, frightened by the great noise.

“Thou art nothing but rank, elf-skinned codpiece! Thou hath killed my beloved!” He screamed.

At that moment, Thea rounded the corner. She heard the ruckus, and came running. But she was too late.

Peter lunged for the nearest guard, who had no choice but to fight back. Peter grabbed the gun from the belt of the gun, and placed it to his temple. “Thou hath killed my Thea! And I have been the cause of thy death! Thou, more worthy of life than I, hast fallen the first victim. I will follow. I am the guilty cause…not being myself on the spot to guard thee!” And with these words, he pulled the trigger.

Thea screamed out for her love, but it was much too late. She rushed to his side, embracing the lifeless body. Her tears poured into his wounds; her lips imprinting kisses upon his cold mouth.

“Thy own hand has slain thee, and for my sake,” she cried. “I too can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine. I will follow thee in death, for I have been the cause; and death which alone could part us shall not prevent my joining thee. And ye, unhappy parents, deny us not our united request. As love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. And thou, cell, retain the marks if slaughter,” so saying, she pressed the barrel of the gun into her temple and pulled the trigger, as her dear love had done before her.

Her parents ratified her wish, the gods also ratified it. The two lovers were buried in one tomb. The cell ever after was a memoir of the love, death, and the tragedy of Peter and Thea.

The End.