Is This Love Or Something Else?

A poetic teenager, who goes by the name of Romeo, was asked to write a love poem for the prayer ceremony at the church where he attends for Valentine's Day. However, he had no desire to write such a poem if it wasn't for his beloved, Juliet.

On his way home he was greeted by a man who wore red from head to toe. Romeo stared blankly at the unfamiliar man who was standing before him. With a wise and warm smile, the stranger said, "Young Romeo, do not doubt the love you possess. Examine the depths of your heart for the person who is your most beloved. What direction does it take you?"

While observing the stranger in front of him closely, Romeo asked, "Please forgive me if I come across as harsh and disrespectful to you, but who are you?"

"Young man, do you truly not recognise me? You were requested to write a poem for me at the prayer ceremony," the stranger said.

Romeo gasps in disbelief and swiftly kneels, crying in front of him. "You are St. Valentine? Sir, I am unable to express myself romantically unless it's for Juliet, my one and only true love. Please guide me through this confusing situation."

Romeo simply received a smile... 

And with a subtle wink, the man before him swished his red cloak and vanished into a cloud of dust.

Romeo was left on his knees, mouth agape. It couldn't be true... could it? Romeo had never been one to believe in the supernatural, and religion had eluded him all his life, but something about the man's gleaming eyes... it had filled him with hope. And Romeo, hopeless young romantic that he was, held onto that hope with an iron grip.

He thought once more of Juliet. His Juliet, a voice in his mind corrected him; although that description wasn't quite true. Vibrant, captivating and clever, the young Juliet Capulet was the daughter of his father's vicious nemesis in the business world. If only her name was anything else, he thought longingly - she could be called turnip, or pot, for all he cared - for a flower does not need a beautiful name to keep its fragrance.

Sighing once more, Romeo raised himself off the rough pavement and sauntered dejectedly home. But something pricked at the back of his mind. If that strange old man had really been the immortal St. Valentine, surely he was sending a message? Surely, if Romeo was to win both Juliet and their respective families over, he should be shouting his love from the rooftops, not repressing it out of fear. His mind made up, Romeo crashed through the front door of the small townhouse that he shared with his parents and his cousin, Benvolio, rushed upstairs and sat at his desk to begin a frenzied writing session.

The poem Romeo wrote was long, and he knew it would need to be cut back for the service, but he did not care. This was the truest depiction of his love that the young man could muster. He knew what he had to do. There was a party in the Capulet's grand mansion tonight; Romeo and Benvolio would sneak into the house and he would deliver the poem to his darling Juliet himself.

With a quiver of excitement, Romeo sat up straighter. He had a purpose, finally, and felt like he could breathe again for the first time in months. Ever since he had seen Juliet across the classroom he had been smitten; and finding out who she truly was had caused a devastation the depth of which nobody in his life could fathom.

Romeo spent the rest of the night in a tizzy. After informing Benvolio of his plan, he had to decide on what to wear. Benvolio, who disapproved of Romeo's antics but felt obligated to keep Romeo out of danger, suggested they wear a disguise. This was, after all, a costume party, and they couldn't head into enemy territory unarmed.

Mercutio, a long time friend of the two young cousins, was also in attendance; charismatic and devilishly funny, he completed the trio. The three musketeers, feathers in caps, masks carefully placed to conceal their true identities, and toy bayonets loaded. They were ready for battle.