My friend and I decided we wanted to write some romantic tradgedy and this is what we started with, it's going to be based off the Lady of Shallot, but we're going to make Elaine(the Lady of Shallot) deeper, and we're going to add a minor character Eliza, a woman she watches through her mirror, and Guenevere is going to be part of it, another Elaine watches through the mirror Here it goes ((please comment whether good or bad)):
My song rose and fell with my moods. It's melodies drifted amongst the reeds and the river and was heard from the little town just downstream, all the way to Camelot. It swept over the rapids of the river, and the rolling hills of the plains. In short it swept through the world I had never seen.

My song today was a lilting song that went perfectly with the children I saw playing in my mirror, the mirror that was my curse.

My curse. I was forbidden to ever leave this tower of my confinement, or even to look outside except for through my mirror. I didn't know what would happen, but I was scared of my fate beyond what I knew.

And my tapestry. Out of the mirror I looked, and only through that mirror did I draw my divine inspirations for the tapestry. I am destined to weave it, depicting life. Lovers, and Knights, I saw all who passed, never joining them, sitting apart always. Never loved by anyone, only a lonely soul. No knight raised his sword in my name, or any man woman or child even seen my face.

I was, simply, Elaine, a suffering artist living in a world of shadows, known to history as the Lady of Shallot.



Today through the mirror I saw a young woman of about 17, her long blond hair falling to her waist in a braid. She was one of the country girls who married young. I had seen her before, her name was Eliza, or at least I believed. Her 5 year old boy, Christopher, ran ahead, while her little three year old girl, Julia, toddled beside her on unsteady legs. Christopher had her blonde hair, but he was taller for his age, more like his father Joeseph than his short mother. Julia had her mother's blue-grey eyes and very pale skin, unlike the tan skin Christopher had from his father, but was a brunette like her father. Eliza started washing some clothing at the riverbank and I wondered what she was thinking.



Eliza listened to the music drifting from the tower on the island, the fabled dwelling of the Lady of Shallot, and wondered if the woman really existed. Nobody from the village had ever seen her, at least to anyone's knowledge. Supposedly she was trapped up there to only see the outside world through a mirror...

Eliza was broken out of her trance by the tugging of a hand at her skirt. Julia asked, "Mommy what is the music? Where is it coming from? I don't see anyone singing."

Eliza picked her up, "Darling, I will explain it in a moment, Chris may like it too, fetch him and anyone who wants to know about the music, run!" she said, putting the girl down. Julia immediately ran off to find her brother.

When the girl returned she was joined by a group of children anywhere from her age to about 6, "Do you all want to hear the tale of the Lady of Shallot?" the children nodded. "The Lady was--- is locked in the tower on yonder island, nobody in our village has seen her for as far back as anyone to remember, but she has always been there. She has always been an artist,singing, and according to legend, weaving. You see, she is cursed to remain in the tower, her only window to the outside being a mirror, from which she gets the ideas for her tapestry. Her tapestry is supposed to depict life, from many different angles. Lovers, Knights, Children, Crones, Wives, Kings, and simple men. Everyone. Who knows, she could be watching us now," Eliza concluded.

"How do we know she exists if nobody has ever seen her?" said some older boy, trying to act smart.

"Sometimes there are things you aren't sure about that you just have to believe in, because your heart tells you it's true," Eliza said gently.

After that the children started wandering off, thinking about what had been said. Eliza went back to her washing. She looked up to see where her children were, and saw Chris playing ball with some boys, and Julia sitting on the bank with, what she thought was a serious thinking expression on her face. "What's wrong darling?" Eliza said, walking towards the 3 year old.

"Mommy, if she never leaves isn't she sad up there, alone? I mean I don't like being alone for lunch but being alone for the rest of my life sounds much much worse."

Eliza tried to think of what to say, resisting the urge to laugh. "Darling, you mentioned being alone for lunch, does that mean you're hungry?"
Julia looked up and smiled sweetly, "Now that you mention it..."

Eliza laughed, "Do you ever think of anything beyond your stomach."

"Yes, I do, how lucky I am to have a Mommy like you! Does the Lady have a nice Mommy to take care of her?"

Eliza once again resisted the urge to laugh, "No, I don't believe so, Darling, Chris, we're going to get lunch," she called to her son.



My fingers spun quickly, recording the session when the children had sat listening to Eliza's tale, not knowing that it was about me. Little Julia was about my favorite character in the village, she was so adorable. Her mother was another favorite of mine to watch, although I envied her very much. I had no chance for love, and without love, I had no chance at my own child.

Oh, to have a child, warmth, and love. I would probably be a terrible mother, but every child loves their mother, even if she is terrible. I would want a little girl, spirited and loving like little Julia. I smiled at the thought of it.

I worked all afternoon to perfect the scene before me but as the sun set it was finally done, my telling of the telling of my tale, and it was every bit as beautiful as seeing the children gathered around Eliza.



I wondered what the mirror would bring me of the outside world today. I looked at a woman of about 22, with long straight luxurious brunette hair, and brown eyes. She stood taking in sun at the rose garden in the court of Camelot. She was another I had visited often, Guenevere, the Queen of England.