Shakespeare+Modern+Retelling+OJ2

The Journey Down
'Today's the day,' I thought to myself. The bright star-shaped balloons made my eyes dart towards them, each time it bounced into my eyesight, my heart beating faster each time I see them. I checked every minute or so to see if my present for Hamlet was still there, thinking each time about how I'm going to present these. Hamlet, the most popular and handsome guy in school. We were the best of friends since I can remember, then one day, I guess he just changed. He'd talk to me here and there, then he would playfully flirt with me. //That's// what would make my day brighter. 'Should I leave it at his door step, then leave? Or maybe I should leave it on his desk in Science..' Each outcome all had the same result: giving the present, which was the worst and best part.

'Maybe I should jus-' WHAM. I opened my eyes to coincidentally sitting across my brother, Laertes.

"Oomph.. I'm so sorry, I should have watched where I was goin-"

"Ophelia? Hey! It's been forever since I saw you! How's college?"

'Where's my present!? Oh god, did someone steal it? What am I going to do..' I was so worried about my present, I didn't even hear my brother's voice or to check if he was okay, let alone my well being!

"Uh..Ophelia? What are you looking for?"

"Oh! Laertes, how are you?"

"I'm fine, how abo-"

"That's nice, hey, can you help me look for my present?"

"Present? For whom?"

"A close friend of mine, my dorm-mate to be specific." I couldn't tell my over-protective brother about it, he'd nearly have a heart attack!

"Wait, did it have bright, star-shaped balloons? A small basket tied to it?"

"Ah! So you //have// seen it! Where'd it go?"

He pointed towards the sky, confirming my fear.

I pointed my head straight up, only catching a glimpse of my present for Hamlet. I raced toward the building to my left, bursting in through the glass door, weaving between business men and women. Worst case scenarios of people getting it before me, pushing it away from the edge, onto to the bustling sidewalk below flashed through my mind. Hamlet's 'coming back' present would be ultimately destroyed. A whole month from being suspended from having somewhat of a part in my father's death. To be exact, Hamlet was crossing the crosswalk when the signal was on, my dad sadly didn't see him. He swerved into the intersection and collided head-on with a large Chevy pick-up, twice the size of my dad's Nissan, and died on the way to the hospital. Hamlet decided to ride to the hospital with my dad, to apparently tell me when they got there about what happened. I sadly never knew the last words of my father, for Hamlet feels like it would be too vain for my 'fragile soul'.

The spiraling stairs never seemed to end, just up and up and up... An eternity later, I found a landing with a door labeled 'ROOF ACCESS'. As I burst through the door, I saw it, in my reach, somewhat.. It hooked on the seemingly dead power line, dangling back and forward, ever so slightly. I ran to the edge and reached out, anchoring myself on the AC unit. 'So...Close..' I grunted and flailed my hand as far as I could, just grazing the weaved basket with my fingertips. Maybe if I just step on top of the rim, I could reach it!

"I..got..it!" I was straining myself just to breathe.

My legs got so light, my ankles started wobbling, at least I think.. There was cracking and crumbling near my feet, I felt my face get pale white and freezing cold. I was partially caught on the handle of basket, which the balloons tied to that was caught in the //charged// power lines. Oh no.

The granite block supporting my entire weight tumbled forward, forcing me to hang on nothing but the basket. The rope handle, and, as you would assume, didn't exactly hold my weight. It burned my hand at first, but I had the choice of holding on to a small rope, or falling to my demise. Either way, this wasn't going to turn out well. I had regretted my decision to run up the stairs, hang over the obviously //unguarded// edge, which fell straight down 40, maybe 50 stories down, into rush hour in Manhattan!

Looking down didn't help, neither did looking up. I pondered how, no, what was going to happen. I wasn't sure what was going through my head, all that came to mind was images of my family, or what's left of it. All these memories just flashed onto my brain, from the earliest memories to just yesterday when I found out Hamlet was coming back. It was just absolute panic for a few minutes, then I had looked across me. A crowd of business men looked at me and screaming into their phones, presumably 911, and just glancing back at me every so often to check if I was still there. I had hoped that I was, and checked how long I had been up there, well, tried to at least. My wristwatch looked like it was half past one. I had been up here for at least three minutes..?

"That's nearly impossible!", I yelled. I remembered I had a voice then, and decided to start screaming for help in all directions.

My voice echoed throughout the isle of building, resounding off of windows and walls. It sounded so helpless, in dire need, it honestly scared me. My legs felt like they were, just.. not there. That feeling crept up my torso and under my shoulder blades, I kept on imagining scenarios where EMT's and firemen would come to my rescue, but deep down, I knew they wouldn't come in time. I had accepted it, //I had accepted death.//

I looked down to see where I was headed, a group of people made a large, blurry, circle underneath me.. Blurry? Was I..crying? Involuntarily, I wiped my eyes with my hand, making the grip on the basket loosen. I had slipped my hand down to the corner where the basket met the handle, restricting my grip to about two and a half square inches. Two..One..until about half of my hand was off of the basket handle. I looked down, then across and made eye contact with a familiar face in the building opposite of me, Laertes. Poor Laertes, I didn't even think of him, he'll probably just..snap i-...when it happens..

I looked at him with tear-filled and mouthed the best I could..

"I'm..so..so sorry.."

And released the basket from my remainder of my hand...

It was so..//quiet...//

I watched my reflection fall, the wind rushing through her hair, her hands by her slender body, I watched her eyes flutter shut, as did mine..

I felt it coming, I //heard// it coming.. I barely heard the drowned out screams of the people below and in the buildings. I felt bad for possibly traumatizing all those people, giving them a horrible vision to remember before bed..

"The wind feels so nic-"

//nothing...pure blackness..//

* * * * * * * * * * * *

//Later that evening://

".. And our top story for this evening, five people died, presumably for personal reasons. One lady has been identified as Ophelia."

My image flashed on the screen, along with 'SUICIDE VICTIM'.. I didn't feel dead, but I was.. I think, apparently, images were released of my splattered body, but were assumed fake..

//I hope they were...//

..each one of those images now had something I now hated. That present was placed perfectly on top of my chest..

Yet, I didn't feel any pain nor emotion, it was like.. a dream. It didn't feel real, almost like a fantasy, a somewhat depressing fantasy...