Inside Scoop on picking Katherine Shaw as February’s winner

The February Contest turned out to be as difficult as any other to choose a winner.

Starry sky over a green forest
Photo by Gabrielle Mustapich.

As usual, multiple excellent entries vied for the top spot. And I’ll share at least one finalist entry next week. But this week is all about the February winner, Katherine Shaw, and her perfectly tragic ending.

If you have not yet read the full story Katherine and I wrote, please read it here first, as this post contains spoilers.

My Circle of Champions, the name for former winners of my monthly writing contest, and I began working on a series of flash fiction stories set on a single planet, called The Globe. We’ve had a lot of fun creating this new Sci Fi world together and sparking ideas off of each other. So in January, I guess my head was full of The Globe and I struggled to write a fresh, unique story beginning for the February Contest.

When I wrote the three-paragraph outline for The Globe, I wrote this: “Except for the Seven Day War between Whitehall and Finsbury, there has always been peace.” I had also agreed to write the first story set in bucolic, agrarian Finsbury. (It’s almost done now.) So I had the conflict between Whitehall and Finsbury on my mind.

And then I was struck with the idea of a Romeo-and-Juliet, star-crossed-lovers tale with a sophisticate from Whitehall and her country beau from Finsbury. There were many problems here that could easily have messed up the brand new world we were writing together. We had not even released our first story set on The Globe. What if a contest winner introduced some new tech or some other issue that messed up this whole new beautiful world?

But my deadline to post the contest beginning loomed, and I finally told the Champions that I was throwing caution to the wind and doing it.

As I wrote, I needed names for my female and male leads. If you didn’t notice, The Globe is inspired by Shakespeare and the world and the stories are filled with references to the Bard’s work and to the times in which he lived. So it’s natural that I thought of a Romeo-and-Juliet story. But what could I name my futuristic Romeo and Juliet?

Here’s another wrinkle. I also gave my Champions the rule that all names had to come from Shakespeare plays. See how that came back to bite me? So I shrugged and thought to myself: If everyone on The Globe knows and reveres Shakespeare and they name their children after the Bard’s characters, why not just play into it? Why not just have two modern teenagers named Romeo and Juliet? At least readers will know the roles they are to play.

To avoid messing with the current timeline on The Globe, I set this tale “long before the Night of the Rocket and nearly fifty years before the Seven Day War.” And then I decided to make it a secret war that few on The Globe would ever know about it.

My Champions read the story and blessed it, but one noted that it would be very tough to finish in 500 words. And he was right.

But Katherine and others stepped up to the challenge with gusto, and the results speak for themselves.

I had hoped Romeo and Juliet would have a happy ending. I truly did. And some contestants wrote that happy ending. And, with unceasing optimism, I had hoped the winner would also somehow stop the secret war. I’m a sucker for a happy ending. But that was not fated to be.

Romeo and Juliet are star-crossed-lovers. Theirs is a tragic tale and not one for happiness. And so Katherine did it true justice.

Now, in my mind, Katherine’s Romeo and Juliet succeed in many ways. Juliet kills the leader of the invasion force, her father, Escalus Andronicus. And so I believe that ultimately foils the invasion. I assume that without their fearless leader, the attacking force melts away and returns to Whitehall, taking their secret with them.

Even so, Katherine’s ending shocked me.

Even as Juliet trained the energy pistol on her father, I held out hope. A hope for peace, love and reconciliation. We could feel Juliet’s hesitation, her trigger finger trembling.

“Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she didn’t move. Her outstretched arm was paralyzed, her white knuckles gripping the butt of the pistol. Her breath caught as the figure moved, and the piercing blue eyes of Escalus Andronicus locked onto her own, his face twisted in confusion.”

But Katherine chose a great ending, a perfect ending, a tragic ending.

And, so, Juliet and Romeo can run away together to Newlondon as Juliet had planned. But in murdering her father, can Juliet ever know lasting peace and happiness? I think not. That is not her fate.

“Juliet would never forget the look of betrayal in her father’s eyes as the realization struck him.”


Katherine gave us a truly powerful Juliet and a truly powerful ending. Whew, that’s some heavy stuff! How about a couple of lighter notes to end by?

As I said, The Globe stories are chock-full of Shakespeare references. I throw in as many as I think I can get away with without completely derailing the story. And the Champions in their stories do the same. I’m loving them, and I’m sure I’m not even catching half of them.

I thought the name of Escalus’s heavy-duty hover would be a great place to sneak in a Shakespeare reference. But what? There’s not a lot of high-tech words or stuff in Shakespeare. But I recalled a lion from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Yes, a lion is a good name for a sleek, new vehicle. But how would just the word “lion” be recognizable as a Shakespeare reference?

In A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the story of Pyramus and Thisbe is performed as a play-within-the-play by several village fools. Pyramus and Thisbe are precursors to Romeo and Juliet, also being star-crossed lovers separated by warring families. They elope, agreeing to meet in the night at Ninus’ tomb.

Thisbe arrives first but flees when she sees a lion eating a recent kill. Pyramus then arrives to find the lion, bloody from its meal, chewing on Thisbe’s shawl. Pyramus assumes the worst, that Thisbe had been slain and eaten by the lion. He kills himself with his sword. Thisbe returns to find Pyramus dead and also kills herself with the sword. It’s a tragic tale, but when told by Shakespeare’s fools, it’s quite comedic until the end.

All that to say that the 9NUS Lion is a reference to the lion at Ninus’s tomb. Truly a deadly force and an augur of doom.

Katherine gave Escalus his last name: Andronicus. That would cast Escalus as the victorious Roman general from Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus. That truly is a tale of woe full of betrayal, murder and even cannibalism.

Titus Andronicus loses nearly all his family and dies at the hand of a rival, but his banished son returns to claim the throne as emperor of Rome. So, Katherine clearly knew her Escalus Andronicus could not live. And, perhaps, Katherine is hinting to us that Juliet may yet return home victorious and even take a station higher than her late father.

Hmmm, food for thought.

This is the Winner of the Matthew Cross Writing Contest

The winner of the Matthew Cross Flash Fiction Collaboration Contest is

Katherine Shaw

January Contest

I started the story below. See how Katherine starts after the red line and carries the tale away to a shocking ending. A Romeo-and-Juliet story where Juliet grabs the lead and won’t let go.

INTRODUCTION: This story takes place on the planet simply known as The Globe, on a stretch of water between Whitehall, also called the First City, and the farming community of Finsbury to the south. Long before the Night of the Rocket and nearly fifty years before the Seven Day War there was …

The Secret War

by Katherine Shaw and Matthew Cross

Juliet gunned the thrusters of the hover.

She sped across the surface of Lake Avon, heading south towards the dark headland. Around that bend was the end of the lake and the beginning of freedom. The headland cinched the Elizabeth River’s waist back to her usual trim shape on her journey south to the farming community of Finsbury, the breadbasket of The Globe.

She glanced back at the bright lights of Whitehall’s crystalline towers. Whitehall–First City of The Globe. A twinge of guilt tugged at her. But she had made up her mind. Her parents had told her she had to choose between her family and Romeo. So she had chosen. She did not know what her future held or where she would live, but as long as she was with Romeo, nothing else mattered.

She pumped her thrusters, urging the hover forward, but the throttle was already fully open. 

Ahead, the headland, dark with trees, formed a silhouette, refusing to reflect back the distant lights of Whitehall. It suddenly loomed up. It was too close and she was going too fast to make the bend into the main channel of the river.

Her hands twitched at the controls, her feet at the pedals, working thrusters and steering gyros at the same time to spin the hover. She used the hover’s own momentum to simultaneously slow her and spin her in the right direction. The hover, normally silent, growled in protest and threw a huge spray of water that glowed white in the darkness.

A twinge of guilt tugged at her. But she had made up her mind.

That would attract the attention of the lifeguard drones hovering high overhead. And the subaquatic monitors would record the unusual wave pattern. But as long as she didn’t capsize, they would not act. And no one would be alerted.

She knew her father monitored her movements, or leastways, his machines did, and some of his flunkies audited those data streams. But she had taken precautions.

She had removed her own tracker months ago. To avoid suspicions, she carried it with her throughout Whitehall, but whenever she left to meet Romeo, she clipped it to her cat, Thisbe. This night, she had not taken her own customized hover, choosing a plain, black model from the family boathouse from which she had removed all the trackers.

Even at sixteen, she was one of the best hover pilots in Whitehall, which meant she was one of the best anywhere north of Newlondon. (No one could compare with Newlondoners, who learned to sail before they learned to walk.) Her secret was her finesse. And being a girl, of course. Everyone knew girls made better pilots than ham-handed boys, who always tried to muscle the controls. That’s one reason she was driving further than Romeo to meet up tonight; she could drive faster and better in the dark. He was good at sports–really good–but even he had to admit she was the better pilot of the two. No one in Whitehall or Finsbury compared with her on a hover.

The hover glided so smoothly and silently over the water, she felt almost as if she were floating in the vacuum of space. Photo by Steve Halama.

The hover dove into the near total darkness on the far side of the headland. The darkness was so complete, Juliet flinched from the sensation of colliding with something solid. The hover glided so smoothly and silently over the water, she felt almost as if she were floating in the vacuum of space. She held her breath. But the slight wind across her face brought her back to her senses and she clicked on the hover’s lights for the first time. It was safe. She was beyond sight, sound, or sensor of Whitehall. She was free!

She was free to see her Romeo!

The irony was not lost on her. On a planet named The Globe, everyone knew the story of Romeo and Juliet, the star-crossed lovers. Growing up, Juliet had never thought their story a romantic one. They were stupid. Killing themselves? For what? For love?

Of course, Romeo was the stupidest one. If he’d just waited a little bit longer. If he’d just made absolutely sure, Juliet would have woken up eventually. And they could have lived happily ever after. Boys are stupid! Except for Romeo, her Romeo, the real-life, living, breathing Romeo.

But dying for love didn’t seem quite so stupid now. Still, she and her Romeo would never do that. Would never and would never have to.

But dying for love didn’t seem quite so stupid now.

Life was funny, though. Or the universe had a perverse sense of humor.

She was hardly the first Juliet on The Globe to fall for a Romeo. She herself was the ninth-generation Juliet in her family. And it was said that on every block of Whitehall lived a Romeo, a Hamlet, and an Othello. Her older brother was an Othello.

Even so, she had promised herself she would never fall for a Romeo. It was so trite! So cheesy! A Romeo and a Juliet in love? Too easy to be a constant target of mockery. And, growing up, she never had to make herself promise not to fall in love with a Finsburian. No woman of Whitehall–or not one of standing, anyway–would be caught dead in Finsbury or give a clod-shoed Finsby a second of time. Clumsy, hulking, dirty farmers with cauliflower for brains. Those dirtwalkers didn’t appreciate the beauty of Whitehall’s crystalline towers and white ways. It’s customs and elevated manners. They didn’t appreciate Whitehall’s technological bounty. They dared to compare the value of their lowly vegetables with her father’s miracle machines.

Yet, Romeo was no hick and no fool. Yes, he was large. As tall as her father and twice as wide. Standing next to him was like standing next to a solid wall of muscle. Not that she was into big muscles or anything, but when he towered over her, his long brown curls brushing his broad shoulders …. She shivered at the thought.

She had to focus! She shook her head to clear it. She breathed in the cooling lake spray.

Her flare of rage at her parents had purged her twinge of guilt. They had done this! Not Romeo. Not she, Juliet. She had no desire to leave Whitehall. She loved her ancestral home, its culture and art, and most of all, its technology. Her love of machines and their secret languages was perhaps the one thing she and her father shared, besides DNA and a name.

But they had forced her hand. Her father especially. Her mother had sympathized. Had even pleaded in private with her husband, Escalus, the “King of Data Storage.” But when he said “No,” loudly enough for Juliet to hear him through doors that were supposed to be soundproof, her mother had caved. Worse, she had taken his side and tried to turn Juliet’s heart against Romeo. As if! 

Turn her heart against her fair Romeo? Her Romeo of the glinting green eyes? Bright green eyes flecked with gold so it appeared that the sun always shone in them, even in the dark, shady places where they escaped to kiss. A girl could happily lose her soul in those green eyes. Perhaps that is what had happened to Juliet. Perhaps she had lost her soul to Romeo. If so, she did it gladly. He could have it a hundred times over.

So she had chosen the night carefully. Her father was very busy with a large project. He often worked late, but a few nights ago he had told Mom he would be working overnight on this project. That’s when Juliet knew she had to make her break for it. By dawn, she and Romeo could be so far gone that no one in Whitehall or Finsbury could ever find them.

Most days, Juliet was allowed to come and go without supervision. As long as her grades were good, she could travel anywhere in Whitehall or on Lake Avon without a living escort. Of course, there were always safety and security drones everywhere, even in the sewers and beneath Lake Avon. And lifeguard drones hung discretely high in the sky over the lake, watching everyone with electronic eyes.

Even though she was used to traveling in darkness to see Romeo, her waking dream almost blinded her to her next landmark–a sandy beach. Photo by Yusuf Evli.

She was even allowed to skim the lake in the middle of the night, if she liked–something none of her friends could do. As long as she earned good marks in school, her parents left her alone. And school wasn’t hard. She was smarter than most of her teachers. Like her father, study came easily to her, especially math and programming. And so she earned the highest marks and her parents got to brag about her achievements, as if they had had anything to do with it besides contributing the DNA.

Apparently the only thing she could not do was to see Romeo. Or any Finsby. Or have anything to do with Finsbury. And, right now, the only thing in the world worth doing was seeing Romeo. She had tried to resist him. She had tried to stay away. But she couldn’t. And when she saw his face again, after staying away a whole week, the sad look in his eyes hurt her doubly so.

She couldn’t stay away. She wouldn’t stay away. She was going to be with him, whatever it took.

She didn’t care about Finsbury. She didn’t care if the whole city–really just a noisy, smelly marketplace–and all the surrounding fields and farms burned in the fires of Belmont. All she cared about was that she was with Romeo. If that had to be in Finsbury, then so be it. She longed to be with him right now. Her Romeo of the broad shoulders and the lopsided grin.

Her stomach tingled as she envisioned that shy grin. And those full lips. Lips that kissed her beneath the tall trees of the Forest of Arden, the forest that formed the contested border between Whitehall and Finsbury. 

She cruised through the darkness with only the wind in her ears to mar the silence. The hover’s lights shining on the dark water ahead hypnotized her. In the near darkness, it was easy to imagine Romeo’s hair, his face, his shoulders. She eagerly looked forward to their first embrace in freedom. To watch his face lower towards hers. To feel his soft lips on her own.

Even though she was used to traveling in darkness to see Romeo, her waking dream almost blinded her to her next landmark–a sandy beach. It was the first place after the headland that the high bank of the Elizabeth ran down to the water’s edge. Beyond the Lake of Avon, the Elizabeth River’s currents were treacherous and even this far north it was subject to tidal surges caused by The Globes moons.

The hover ran easily over the faintly glowing sands up to the tree line. The black hover slid silently beneath the trees of the Forest of Arden and followed a walking trail that bordered the Elizabeth.

Soon, very soon, she would meet Romeo on the southern edge of the forest. There, beneath the moonlight, she would tell him of her plan. After a few kisses, of course. Her plan for both of them to keep traveling south, all the way to Newlondon. He was not welcome in Whitehall. And she would not be welcome in Finsbury. And they couldn’t survive long in the wilderness.

The black hover slid silently beneath the trees of the Forest of Arden. Photo by Gabrielle Mustapich.

She was carefully following the path bordering the Elizabeth River and planning her speech to Romeo when she heard the low growl. She flicked off her lights and let the hover glide to a complete stop. In the darkness, she strained with her ears to hear the sound more clearly. It was the low, sexy growl of a heavy hover engine, not the sound of a beast. A beast would have been less frightening.

She knew that engine–it belonged to the 9NUS Lion–her father’s newest line of heavy-duty hovers. “The 9NUS Lion … goes as fast as you like it,” her father had said with a smirk.

The 9NUS could tow heavy loads. Or it could be plated with armor and loaded up with weaponry for police or military action. She knew Whitehall had bought the whole lot.

Juliet was a quick study and it took her only seconds to put it together. Whitehall was sending troops under cover of night to raid Finsbury! And before they reached Finsbury, they would reach the edge of the forest … where Romeo was waiting for her!

All her fears were confirmed when the first hover–covered in some type of camouflage–blew past her in the darkness.

Juliet gunned her thrusters.


Laden with weapons and heavily armored, the 9NUS couldn’t reach its optimal speed, and Juliet’s small hover quickly caught up. With the lights off, she drifted behind her quarry in almost complete darkness, her engine drowned out by the guttural growl of the heavier vehicle.

He would be waiting for her now, emerald eyes glittering in the moonlight.

She had to think; with each lost second they drew closer to Romeo.

He would be waiting for her now, emerald eyes glittering in the moonlight, blind to the approaching danger. She had to save him!

With her eyes fixed straight ahead, she fumbled blindly in her satchel until her fingers closed around the energy pistol. She had smuggled it out of Othello’s room earlier that evening. Being an older boy, he already had access to firearms, though his bullish brain was too small to make proper use of it. Juliet had only practiced a handful of times, but that would have to be enough. She didn’t have a choice.

The trees began to thin on either side of the hovers – they were approaching the edge of the forest. It was now or never.

Narrowing her eyes, she drew the pistol and focused her aim on her target. If she could hit the fan just right, she could disable it and send the hover spinning into the forest, buying some time. She couldn’t stop the invasion, but she could save Romeo. Her Romeo.

The 9NUS slowed and then stopped. Juliet’s feet hit the pedals, slowing her own hover to a crawl.

“It looks like our story is a tragedy after all.”

Juliet’s trembling finger moved to the trigger, but halted as she recognized the figure stepping out of the cabin of the 9NUS. He was tall and, despite the helmet obscuring his eyes, his features were unmistakable.

Juliet could recognize her father from a mile away.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she didn’t move. Her outstretched arm was paralyzed, her white knuckles gripping the butt of the pistol. Her breath caught as the figure moved, and the piercing blue eyes of Escalus Andronicus locked onto her own, his face twisted in confusion.

“Juliet?!”

His voice boomed, drowning out his rumbling hover and echoing out through the once peaceful forest. Juliet’s hands shook, sending small vibrations down the barrel of the pistol, still trained on its target.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He stepped closer to back of his hover, his face violet with rage. “Turn around and go home, you stupid girl!”

Juliet closed her eyes for a moment, her own hover propelling her slowly onward through the darkness. When she opened them again, her father was obscured through a veil of tears. Her hand moved slowly, the tremors steadying.

“It looks like our story is a tragedy after all,” she said, not caring whether she was heard. “Just not the one anyone expected.”

Juliet would never forget the look of betrayal in her father’s eyes as the realization struck him. Less than a second later, a searing bolt of plasma hit his chest like a sledgehammer and sent him tumbling backwards into the cold depths of the Elizabeth River.

The course of true love never did run smooth.


I hope you enjoyed this piece of flash fiction that Katherine Shaw and I wrote together. She’s a great collaboration writer!

If you enjoyed Katherine’s prize-winning ending, please make sure and share some kind comments below.

You can also enjoy view the beautiful, original photos used to illustrate “The Secret War,” learn about the photographers, and follow links to their other work.

Map of the Globe's Five Cities

Finally, you can also enjoy three other tales set on The Globe written by former winners of the writing contest.

The Globe Folio

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

P.S. Here’s the inside scoop on how I chose Katherine’s ending as the winner.

Here are the prizes for the February Contest winner

This is astronaut Major A. Ward. She is the trophy for the February Contest. But there’s more!

For February, I’m presenting a host of prizes for the winner:

  • $25 cash (in the form of an Amazon gift certificate)
  • Trophy–The Maj. A. Ward amigurumi astronaut (I crocheted her myself. She’s about 5 inches tall.)
  • A Twitter banner–or use wherever you like–pronouncing you the winner of the January Contest.
  • Listing in the Circle of Champions on this website, including your social media contacts and website link, if you’d like to share them.
  • Lots and lots and lots of promotion on Twitter. (I go a little crazy.)
  • Other opportunities to mix and mingle with my other Champions and join them in special projects. (Check out my current special project exclusive to my Circle of Champions.)

Why not get started now?

The secret origins of Major A. Ward

Abby Sy designed this astronaut pattern and named it Roberta the Astronaut in honor of Roberta Bondar, the first Canadian woman in space. Abby is a crochet designer who lives in Toronto with her dog Ollie. Read more about Abby and Hollie.

Win a cash prize if you write the best finish to my story–February Contest

This is a finish-my-story contest where all you have to do is write the ending in 500 words or less. See the prizes here!

February Contest: All submissions are due by midnight February 15, 2021.

Look here for contest rules.

INTRODUCTION: This story takes place on the planet simply known as The Globe, on a stretch of water between Whitehall, also called the First City, and the farming community of Finsbury to the south. Long before the Night of the Rocket and nearly fifty years before the Seven Day War there was …

The Secret War

Juliet gunned the thrusters of the hover.

She sped across the surface of Lake Avon, heading south towards the dark headland. Around that bend was the end of the lake and the beginning of freedom. The headland cinched the Elizabeth River’s waist back to her usual trim shape on her journey south to the farming community of Finsbury, the breadbasket of The Globe.

She glanced back at the bright lights of Whitehall’s crystalline towers. Whitehall–First City of The Globe. A twinge of guilt tugged at her. But she had made up her mind. Her parents had told her she had to choose between her family and Romeo. So she had chosen. She did not know what her future held or where she would live, but as long as she was with Romeo, nothing else mattered.

She pumped her thrusters, urging the hover forward, but the throttle was already fully open. 

Ahead, the headland, dark with trees, formed a silhouette, refusing to reflect back the distant lights of Whitehall. It suddenly loomed up. It was too close and she was going too fast to make the bend into the main channel of the river.

Her hands twitched at the controls, her feet at the pedals, working thrusters and steering gyros at the same time to spin the hover. She used the hover’s own momentum to simultaneously slow her and spin her in the right direction. The hover, normally silent, growled in protest and threw a huge spray of water that glowed white in the darkness.

A twinge of guilt tugged at her. But she had made up her mind.

That would attract the attention of the lifeguard drones hovering high overhead. And the subaquatic monitors would record the unusual wave pattern. But as long as she didn’t capsize, they would not act. And no one would be alerted.

She knew her father monitored her movements, or leastways, his machines did, and some of his flunkies audited those data streams. But she had taken precautions.

She had removed her own tracker months ago. To avoid suspicions, she carried it with her throughout Whitehall, but whenever she left to meet Romeo, she clipped it to her cat, Thisbe. This night, she had not taken her own customized hover, choosing a plain, black model from the family boathouse from which she had removed all the trackers.

Even at sixteen, she was one of the best hover pilots in Whitehall, which meant she was one of the best anywhere north of Newlondon. (No one could compare with Newlondoners, who learned to sail before they learned to walk.) Her secret was her finesse. And being a girl, of course. Everyone knew girls made better pilots than ham-handed boys, who always tried to muscle the controls. That’s one reason she was driving further than Romeo to meet up tonight; she could drive faster and better in the dark. He was good at sports–really good–but even he had to admit she was the better pilot of the two. No one in Whitehall or Finsbury compared with her on a hover.

The hover glided so smoothly and silently over the water, she felt almost as if she were floating in the vacuum of space. Photo by Steve Halama.

The hover dove into the near total darkness on the far side of the headland. The darkness was so complete, Juliet flinched from the sensation of colliding with something solid. The hover glided so smoothly and silently over the water, she felt almost as if she were floating in the vacuum of space. She held her breath. But the slight wind across her face brought her back to her senses and she clicked on the hover’s lights for the first time. It was safe. She was beyond sight, sound, or sensor of Whitehall. She was free!

She was free to see her Romeo!

The irony was not lost on her. On a planet named The Globe, everyone knew the story of Romeo and Juliet, the star-crossed lovers. Growing up, Juliet had never thought their story a romantic one. They were stupid. Killing themselves? For what? For love?

Of course, Romeo was the stupidest one. If he’d just waited a little bit longer. If he’d just made absolutely sure, Juliet would have woken up eventually. And they could have lived happily ever after. Boys are stupid! Except for Romeo, her Romeo, the real-life, living, breathing Romeo.

But dying for love didn’t seem quite so stupid now. Still, she and her Romeo would never do that. Would never and would never have to.

But dying for love didn’t seem quite so stupid now.

Life was funny, though. Or the universe had a perverse sense of humor.

She was hardly the first Juliet on The Globe to fall for a Romeo. She herself was the ninth-generation Juliet in her family. And it was said that on every block of Whitehall lived a Romeo, a Hamlet, and an Othello. Her older brother was an Othello.

Even so, she had promised herself she would never fall for a Romeo. It was so trite! So cheesy! A Romeo and a Juliet in love? Too easy to be a constant target of mockery. And, growing up, she never had to make herself promise not to fall in love with a Finsburian. No woman of Whitehall–or not one of standing, anyway–would be caught dead in Finsbury or give a clod-shoed Finsby a second of time. Clumsy, hulking, dirty farmers with cauliflower for brains. Those dirtwalkers didn’t appreciate the beauty of Whitehall’s crystalline towers and white ways. It’s customs and elevated manners. They didn’t appreciate Whitehall’s technological bounty. They dared to compare the value of their lowly vegetables with her father’s miracle machines.

Yet, Romeo was no hick and no fool. Yes, he was large. As tall as her father and twice as wide. Standing next to him was like standing next to a solid wall of muscle. Not that she was into big muscles or anything, but when he towered over her, his long brown curls brushing his broad shoulders …. She shivered at the thought.

She had to focus! She shook her head to clear it. She breathed in the cooling lake spray.

Her flare of rage at her parents had purged her twinge of guilt. They had done this! Not Romeo. Not she, Juliet. She had no desire to leave Whitehall. She loved her ancestral home, its culture and art, and most of all, its technology. Her love of machines and their secret languages was perhaps the one thing she and her father shared, besides DNA and a name.

But they had forced her hand. Her father especially. Her mother had sympathized. Had even pleaded in private with her husband, Escalus, the “King of Data Storage.” But when he said “No,” loudly enough for Juliet to hear him through doors that were supposed to be soundproof, her mother had caved. Worse, she had taken his side and tried to turn Juliet’s heart against Romeo. As if! 

Turn her heart against her fair Romeo? Her Romeo of the glinting green eyes? Bright green eyes flecked with gold so it appeared that the sun always shone in them, even in the dark, shady places where they escaped to kiss. A girl could happily lose her soul in those green eyes. Perhaps that is what had happened to Juliet. Perhaps she had lost her soul to Romeo. If so, she did it gladly. He could have it a hundred times over.

So she had chosen the night carefully. Her father was very busy with a large project. He often worked late, but a few nights ago he had told Mom he would be working overnight on this project. That’s when Juliet knew she had to make her break for it. By dawn, she and Romeo could be so far gone that no one in Whitehall or Finsbury could ever find them.

Most days, Juliet was allowed to come and go without supervision. As long as her grades were good, she could travel anywhere in Whitehall or on Lake Avon without a living escort. Of course, there were always safety and security drones everywhere, even in the sewers and beneath Lake Avon. And lifeguard drones hung discretely high in the sky over the lake, watching everyone with electronic eyes.

Even though she was used to traveling in darkness to see Romeo, her waking dream almost blinded her to her next landmark–a sandy beach. Photo by Yusuf Evli.

She was even allowed to skim the lake in the middle of the night, if she liked–something none of her friends could do. As long as she earned good marks in school, her parents left her alone. And school wasn’t hard. She was smarter than most of her teachers. Like her father, study came easily to her, especially math and programming. And so she earned the highest marks and her parents got to brag about her achievements, as if they had had anything to do with it besides contributing the DNA.

Apparently the only thing she could not do was to see Romeo. Or any Finsby. Or have anything to do with Finsbury. And, right now, the only thing in the world worth doing was seeing Romeo. She had tried to resist him. She had tried to stay away. But she couldn’t. And when she saw his face again, after staying away a whole week, the sad look in his eyes hurt her doubly so.

She couldn’t stay away. She wouldn’t stay away. She was going to be with him, whatever it took.

She didn’t care about Finsbury. She didn’t care if the whole city–really just a noisy, smelly marketplace–and all the surrounding fields and farms burned in the fires of Belmont. All she cared about was that she was with Romeo. If that had to be in Finsbury, then so be it. She longed to be with him right now. Her Romeo of the broad shoulders and the lopsided grin.

Her stomach tingled as she envisioned that shy grin. And those full lips. Lips that kissed her beneath the tall trees of the Forest of Arden, the forest that formed the contested border between Whitehall and Finsbury. 

She cruised through the darkness with only the wind in her ears to mar the silence. The hover’s lights shining on the dark water ahead hypnotized her. In the near darkness, it was easy to imagine Romeo’s hair, his face, his shoulders. She eagerly looked forward to their first embrace in freedom. To watch his face lower towards hers. To feel his soft lips on her own.

Even though she was used to traveling in darkness to see Romeo, her waking dream almost blinded her to her next landmark–a sandy beach. It was the first place after the headland that the high bank of the Elizabeth ran down to the water’s edge. The hover ran easily over the faintly glowing sands up to the tree line. The black hover slid silently beneath the trees of the Forest of Arden and followed a walking trail.

Soon, very soon, she would meet Romeo on the southern edge of the forest. There, beneath the moonlight, she would tell him of her plan. After a few kisses, of course. Her plan for both of them to keep traveling south, all the way to Newlondon. He was not welcome in Whitehall. And she would not be welcome in Finsbury. And they couldn’t survive long in the wilderness.

The black hover slid silently beneath the trees of the Forest of Arden. Photo by Gabrielle Mustapich.

She was carefully following the path and planning her speech to Romeo when she heard the low growl. She flicked off her lights and let the hover glide to a complete stop. In the darkness, she strained with her ears to hear the sound more clearly. It was the low, sexy growl of a heavy hover engine, not the sound of a beast. A beast would have been less frightening.

She knew that engine–it belonged to the 9NUS Lion–her father’s newest line of heavy-duty hovers. “The 9NUS Lion … goes as fast as you like it,” her father had said with a smirk.

The 9NUS could tow heavy loads. Or it could be plated with armor and loaded up with weaponry for police or military action. She knew Whitehall had bought the whole lot.

Juliet was a quick study and it took her only seconds to put it together. Whitehall was sending troops under cover of night to raid Finsbury! And before they reached Finsbury, they would reach the edge of the forest … where Romeo was waiting for her!

All her fears were confirmed when the first hover–covered in some type of camouflage–blew past her in the darkness.

Juliet gunned her thrusters.


Submit your story ending

I can’t wait to see your story endings! Don’t forget to read the contest rules.

Please post your story endings below. And if you just want to leave a comment, that would be great, too!

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

Here are the prizes for the January Contest winner

This is astronaut Major A. Ward. She is the trophy for the January Contest. But there’s more!

For January, I’m presenting a host of prizes for the winner:

  • $25 cash (in the form of an Amazon gift certificate)
  • Trophy–The Maj. A. Ward amigurumi astronaut (I crocheted her myself. She’s about 5 inches tall.)
  • A Twitter banner–or use wherever you like–pronouncing you the winner of the January Contest.
  • Listing in the Circle of Champions on this website, including your social media contacts and website link, if you’d like to share them.
  • Lots and lots and lots of promotion on Twitter. (I go a little crazy.)
  • Other opportunities to mix and mingle with my other Champions and join them in special projects. (Check out my current special project exclusive to my Circle of Champions.)

Why not get started now?

The secret origins of Major A. Ward

Abby Sy designed this astronaut pattern and named it Roberta the Astronaut in honor of Roberta Bondar, the first Canadian woman in space. Abby is a crochet designer who lives in Toronto with her dog Ollie. Read more about Abby and Hollie.