Love+Of+Ages

The streets were dark and empty. London was silent on the night of October 9th, 1678 except for the hollow clack of a pair of shoes on the cobblestones. A girl with long, perfectly curled, brown hair in a lavender dress, about thirteen years of age, was wandering down the street. She seemed lost, looking for some one maybe. A light voice from a boy came from the nearest alley way. "Rosalind!" the boy said. The girl, Rosalind, stepped into the alley. A boy taller than her with short tan hair and pale skin was waiting for her. Compared to Rosalind, he looked like a mess. His pants were ripped and his clothes stained with dirt. He was skinny, perhaps from mild starvation. Rosalind smiled and hugged him.

"Thomas..." her expression changed, "I have terrible news."

Thomas cocked his head sideways with a confused look in his eye. "What is it?" he asked.

Rosalind's voice was shaking slightly. "The Duke Of York's son, James, plans to marry me. it's already arranged."

"Rosalind, you can't let this happen. I love you more than anything," he told her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and reflected to off-white moonshine. "But the law! I can't say no to the Duke or I'll be executed!"

"I bite my thumb at the law! Damn those men who don't feel love," he said with heaps of frustration in his tone.

Rosalind reached out to him. "It's too late to stop it! The wedding is on Sunday morning at the Catholic Church... there's nothing I can do." A clock in the city chimed nine times. "I have to go. I won't see you until the wedding. I love you more than King Charles loves gold."

"And more than Romeo loved Juliet," Thomas said. He kissed her goodbye and her salty tears mixed with his own. Rosalind ran to her home, leaving Thomas alone in the street. He thought back to three years ago:

//A young middle class girl with a pale pink dress and matching boy in her curls was walking through the streets of the market. She was rolling the chain on her silver necklace through her fingers. A boy from a higher class than her came over. "Mighty fine necklace you have there. I think I want it," he said.//

//The girl turned around and started to walk away. The boy flipped her back around. "Don't you get it?" he asked. "That necklace is mine now." He balled his fingers into a fist and raised his arm to hit the poor, defenseless girl.//

//A boy of about the same age as the girl was watching from his shoe shining post. He had polish on his face and all over his pants. He had been watching the girl the entire time. He rushed in between her and the attacker and punched him in the stomach. The rich boy who'd never actually fought before ran away, grieving in pain. The girl looked at the shoeshine boy with an amazing twinkle in her bright green eyes. "Thank you, shoe shine boy," she said.//

//"My name is Thomas Gray," he said. A loud growl erupted from the boys stomach.//

//The girl started searching for something in her dress pocket. She pulled out some money from her pocket. "I know it isn't much. I'll bring more. My name is Rosalind. Please be here tomorrow," she said whilst handing the boy her money.//

Days later, it was time for the wedding. Rosalind stood at the altar nervously in her flowing white dress. James was standing next to her, as calm as ever. "I do," said James.

The preacher nodded. "And dost thou, Rosalind Whinn, take––"

"No."

The people at the wedding began murmuring to each other. "What?" the preacher asked.

"No. I do not love James," she said. She ran out of the church and the royal guards raced after her. Thomas stood shocked at the beautiful and delicate stained glass window of the church. Rosalind ran by and grabbed his hand. "This is the man I love!" she screamed. "You can't take him away from me! I'd rather die than be separated from Thomas!"

The head guard frowned. "Well, if that is your wish, let it be so." He tied Rosalind's and Thomas's hands behind their backs an led them to the gallows.

Rosalind and Thomas stood on the wooden trapdoors. Rosalind was still in her gorgeous dress. Thomas was in tattered work clothes. The rough, scratchy nooses were wrapped around their necks. They laced their hands together and intertwined fingers. //Bong! Bong! Bong!// The clock had just stuck noon. Rosalind looked at Thomas. "I will love you––"

"Always," Thomas finished. The executioner pulled the lever and the two lovers dropped. Their hands never separated. Not even through death they will love each other. Always.