Creative Writing: A Midsummer Night's Party

The invites had been sent; the RSVPs had come in. I was waiting patiently for the guests to arrive.

The party took place at a super-secret location in Hawaii. I had chosen the top-secret location so that surveillance would be unlikely. Furthermore, each guest would have to pass through state-of-the-art weapons and biological warfare detectors.

William Shakespeare arrived first. “Hi,” I said. His response? “Good morrow.” What a strange greeting. I ushered him through the scanner. Of course William Shakespeare hadn’t carried any weapons.

Soon the various astronomers arrived. Galileo was carrying a telescope. Unfortunately, the telescope set off the alarm. “I’m sorry, but you cannot bring that into the building,” I declared. Copernicus, Kepler,

I allowed them in without issue.

James I arrived, carrying a Bible—his King James Bible, to be precise. It wasn’t a biological weapon, so he was allowed to bring it in.

I decided at this point that I wouldn’t wait for the rest of the guests, and walked in to mingle with the people who had already arrived.

“My friends, your seats have been reserved at the table. Dinner will be served in 15 minutes,” I announced.

I walked around and chatted with some of my guests. I asked Sir Walter Raleigh, who had just arrived, what he thought about the Lost Colony. “Whatever,” he shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Soon everyone had arrived and was milling around. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “Please, take your seats at the dining table.”

The dinner started very well. I had arranged the seating into two regions: the intellectuals and the enemies. Listening to Sir Francis Drake talk about navigating around the world was quite interesting. Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, the enemies still seemed civilized and friendly.

Wine was then served. And that’s when the trouble

I have killed you before, and I will do so again! For justice and beyond!” Charles I shrieked, snatched his knife, and dived under the table.

Robert Cecil must have apparently thought that this one on one battle was a great idea. He declared war on Robert Devereux. But the rash and daring Devereux had managed to slip a bomb past security. With ultra-precise aim, he hurled it at Cecil. It exploded upon impact, also fatally wounding Jane Seymour.

“Hey, stop that!” I yelled, to no avail. Instead, the warfare increased. Henry VIII wept over his beloved wife’s dying body, and proclaimed, “I shall avenge her death!” Conveniently, Catherine Howard and Anne Boleyn were seated next to Henry VIII. They were his most hated wives. With surprising agility, Henry VIII jumped up and pounced toward them. They dived under the table to avoid his blows.

Disgusted at the death of Cecil at the hands of Devereux, Elizabeth I prepared to attack Devereux. She reached into her handbag to pull something out, but before she got the chance to react, Mary, Queen of Scots reached over and stabbed Elizabeth. She cackled, “That is what thee deserves for putting me in prison for 19 years.