William Shakespeare's original play, rewritten as an easy-to-read book.
This is meant for students who have to read the book for school but don't want to read the original text.
After a mysterious ship wreck, The King of Naples and his noblemen are...
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On a cliff side overlooking the great expansion of sea was the rough Caliban, carrying a bundle of sticks on his back.
Dirt and body paint covered the islanders dark skin, and the only form of clothing he had on was rags tied around his waist.
As he stumbled and stormed on the course ground, he was muttering curses towards Prospero.
"I hope all the diseases that breed in swamps and marshes infect Prospero, inch by inch, until he's nothing but a walking disease!" He began. "His spirits are listening to me, but I can't help cursing him anyway. They won't pinch me, frighten me, push me in the mud, or mislead me unless he tells them to. But he sends them to punish me for every little thing. Sometimes his spirits take the form of apes, grimacing and chattering at me and then biting me; sometimes they come like porcupines, my feet as I walk. Sometimes snakes wrap around me, hissing at me with their forked tongues till I go crazy."
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Suddenly, in the distance, he saw a strange looking man. Wispy black hair and many necklace chains adorned his neck. He was wearing a colorful outfit and almost looked to be prancing.
Caliban, who had never seen a man so colourful, grew fearful, "Hey, look over there! Here comes one of his spirits to torture me for taking so long to bring the wood back. I'll lie down and hide. Maybe he won't see me." And with that, he grabbed a gabardine out of his satchel. He laid down on the ground, then put the gabardine over him.
The jester, Trinculo, was too involved with the weather to see the gabardine lump on the ground.
"There are no bushes or shrubs to protect me from the weather here." He said in a loud and obnoxious accent as he backed up, staring at the stormy sky. "And there's another storm brewing—I can hear it in the way the wind whistles. That huge black cloud over there looks like a filthy liquor jug that's about to pour out its contents. It won't be able to help pouring rain down by the bucket-full."
Suddenly he tripped on the ankle of the concealed Caliban, looking wide-eyed at the mysterious silhouette.
"What do we have here, a man or a fish?" He asked out loud.
