Book of Secrets

Take me or Leave Me

Title: Take me or Leave me

Genre: Historical Fiction, Romance, Short Story

Description: William Shakespeare is maybe the most famous writer in history. Brilliant playwrite of Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer's Night Dream, and Much Ado about Nothing, he got around. However, what people don't know is that William has actually based all his plays off his first love.

Piece:

Act I, Scene I

The way the early morrow fog swirled round Hero Middleton’s feet made the cemetery look like a scene out of a haunting fairytale. She was fifteen-years-old on that solemn day of April 4, 1579, standing in the eerie graveyard with the grieving Shakespeare family. Anne Shakespeare, only eight-years-old, was being laid to rest that day. The darling soul was the third to be buried in the Shakespeare family. Out of eight, only four children John and Mary Shakespeare had had lived through childhood.

Hero watched with teary eyes as the small, cloth-wrapped body was gently lowered into the deep grave. Anne was a dear friend of hers with a wonderful imagination. They would always play in the park together or walk to town and assist with errands, pretending to be characters of Anne’s favorite story of the week. The Middletons were good friends with the Shakespeares and often their families would do so much together. Mainly assist each other in education and work.

Mary was weeping into her husband’s shoulder, one of her arms wrapped securely round her youngest child, Richard, and the other held over her swollen belly. Joan, only two years older than her deceased sister, stood sullenly beside her father, dabbing her eyes with a kerchief. Gilbert, as of age thirteen, fought back the tears while he clung onto his father’s arm.  Hero took notice that her best friend, William, was standing alone, leaning against a willow tree and away from the ceremony. William, fifteen-years-old as well, loved his little sister as though she was the world. The news was most certainly the hardest on him.

Hero glanced up at her parents; both their eyes glued to the grave before she slowly began walking towards William, having to pick up her black skirt to keep it from dragging along the fresh and sodden dirt. William’s dark eyes were red-rimmed, staring blankly at the ground. His usual mahoganies curls were drab and pressed against his sculpt. It appeared as though he hadn’t slept in days. In respect of his space, Hero kept her distance and leaned against the opposite side of the tree, the leafy tendrils tickling her exposed arms.

“Hey, William,” she greeted softly, keeping her voice low.

“Good morrow, Hero,” William nearly whispered, but she caught a hint in his tone that told her he didn’t really mean it. The two remained in silence for a few more minutes, watching the ceremony proceed. Well, William wasn’t really watching it. He had his eyes locked onto his shoes.

“I’m sorry about Anne,” Hero finally murmured, glancing up at him. “She was like a sister to me, as well.”

“Tis verily,” he looked up to meet the girl’s gaze, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “She affected thee as though thou were her verily sibling.” Hero felt the tears spring back to her eyes. She was a single child in an all too quiet home. Her beloved younger brother had died the year before at the age of five. In a way, Hero thought, he was just like Anne. She had always found that to be the reason why she was so fond of the little girl.

“Anne is with the angels now,” she sighed, beginning to nervously fiddle with the bark of the tree. “Anne is with my little Edmund.” William smiled a bit at the thought.

“I’m sure they’re playing hide n’ seek in the clouds as we speak,” he added, a hopeful gleam in his dull eyes. Hero’s grin broadened as she imagined the two young children running through plush clouds childishly, their newly gifted angel wings flapping gleefully.

“Oh, Will, how art thee?” Both turned to see the wench, Anne Hathaway, advancing towards them, her round cheeks tear-stained and her arms wide open so to inclip the grieving William. Hero crossed her arms as she sneered at the two of them in each other’s arms, the smile she thought she had worked so hard for on William’s face slowly dissolving.

“I’m fine, thank thee, Anne,” he responded quietly.  Anne hesitantly released him, studying him with moist eyes before she took notice to Hero standing just about a foot away.

            “Oh, good morrow, Hero. I didn’t see thou thither,” she claimed, her voice hoarse as if she had been crying for a while. Bloody piece of work Hathaway was, Hero thought snidely.

            “I’m quite used to that response,” she chided, giving Anne a cold look. Hero believed she was the wall flower of Stratford. She was mocked by other children for having an unusual name such as Hero, and sneered at by other maidens for it was not a lady like name, nor was her attitude. She didn’t favor chores or gossip or even the dresses that made her trip and stumble. Hero didn’t dream of growing old with babes on her lap. All Hero wished to claim in life was adventure. To be known in history for more than being a simple housewife. She planned to leave her mark in the world ere her darkening hour came.

Anne gave her a sympathetic look ere turning her attention back to William.

            “If you are ever in need of haunt, I shall be hither,” she reassured him, clasping his hand in hers. William gave a stiff nod as he pulled his hand away, glancing towards Hero ere giving Anne a simple half-smile, almost dismissing her. For a reason he did not verily understand, William was uncomfortable by the way Hero glared towards Anne and how defensive she became whenever the other maiden was thither.

            “She could not even attend the entire ceremony,” Hero murmured indirectly to Will as she watched Anne trudge back through the cemetery towards a carriage waiting on the street.

            “She is quite busy.” William forspoke, clearly not quite pleased with the statement. Yes, he did believe Anne was a very busy woman; however he wished she could find more time to spend with him. For years, William had found himself oddly attracted to the twenty-two-year-old maiden “I would not expect her to present herself throughout,” he then added.

            “I’m sure,” Hero drawled with a roll of her eyes, disbelieving Will’s excuse. “My father’s a powerful merchant, my mother with child, yet the three of us have found the time to attend,” she hissed, only fueling her dislike for the dear Anne Hathaway. She was all too aware of Will’s feelings for the older maiden, and she didn’t like them one bit.

            “Thou mustn’t be so shrewd, Hero,” William defended, conjuring up another eye roll.

            “I shall be as shrewd as I wish to be. Thou must not always take Anne’s side over mine.” William found himself smirking at her response, beginning to put the pieces together in his brilliant mind.

            “Wherefore? Tis someone emulous, mayhap?” he teased, amused to see audacious Hero’s face flush.

            “Don’t be a ninny, William!” Hero gasped for she was quick to defend herself. “However, thee fond over her like a suitor.” William couldn’t help but chuckle.

            “Thou appeal me to be fair Anne’s suitor? Tis preposterous,” William could feel his palms begin to sweat beneath the protection of his wool gloves. He was quite discontent with the conversation at hand.

            “As you will,” Hero taunted, sparing William a fox-ship look. That only put William on edge, crossing his eyebrows at Hero in question. Hero, though angelic, had a side of trickery. A green and mysterious side William hath been victim to on many accounts, and always hath feverishly tried to avoid.

Hero was both content and discontent at the trickle of fear in William’s eyes. She was pleased to have a topic to pester William about, yet the topic was his affection for Anne. She could not stand the thought of William and Anne together and was sought to prevent that from happening.