Alternative Ending to "The Lady or the Tiger"
She gave me the signal. My stomach was turning; my palms were sweating. I knew
this decision must have been killing her. Her little hand flicked towards the right door, but
her face was cold. Deep down inside I had the growing suspicion that she would rather see
me dead then with another woman. I did not know if I could trust her. She had gotten me
into this mess and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to die. I have loved this girl with every fiber
of my being, but she is royalty and I am a peasant. Now, I am standing in an ampitheatre
shaking. I looked back up at the person I loved the most, and strolled towards the right
door. The crowd fell silent, but my body did not stop moving. I approached the handle; but I
glanced one last look at her.
She gave me a weak smile, and I swung the door open. My lungs seemed to
collapse underneath of the breath of relief I took. I saw a graceful young lady who I had
talked to before once. The petite girl wore a white wedding dress, with beautiful gold lace
decorating it. Her face lit up and she pranced out, hugging me merrily.
The amphitheatre exploded with noise. Bells, cheering, singing and other
celebrations erupted, but I felt myself feeling angry. She never loved me! I peered into the
booth she was seated in, and saw gloom and despair and jealousy hung over her
hauntingly pale face. She stood up and suddenly bolted off. The young lady who I was
going to be wed to kept grabbing onto me. The priest made his way down to the arena. All
of these events seemed to be happening in a blur; I was standing still. My heart ached for
my love. She chose my happiness over her own. The feelings of anger I had slipped away
and I began to search around for her. As I started to walk away, the arena hushed to silence
and the ceremony was to begin. My ‘prize’ hung onto my arm and dragged me over to the
priest.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in
this decision must have been killing her. Her little hand flicked towards the right door, but
her face was cold. Deep down inside I had the growing suspicion that she would rather see
me dead then with another woman. I did not know if I could trust her. She had gotten me
into this mess and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to die. I have loved this girl with every fiber
of my being, but she is royalty and I am a peasant. Now, I am standing in an ampitheatre
shaking. I looked back up at the person I loved the most, and strolled towards the right
door. The crowd fell silent, but my body did not stop moving. I approached the handle; but I
glanced one last look at her.
She gave me a weak smile, and I swung the door open. My lungs seemed to
collapse underneath of the breath of relief I took. I saw a graceful young lady who I had
talked to before once. The petite girl wore a white wedding dress, with beautiful gold lace
decorating it. Her face lit up and she pranced out, hugging me merrily.
The amphitheatre exploded with noise. Bells, cheering, singing and other
celebrations erupted, but I felt myself feeling angry. She never loved me! I peered into the
booth she was seated in, and saw gloom and despair and jealousy hung over her
hauntingly pale face. She stood up and suddenly bolted off. The young lady who I was
going to be wed to kept grabbing onto me. The priest made his way down to the arena. All
of these events seemed to be happening in a blur; I was standing still. My heart ached for
my love. She chose my happiness over her own. The feelings of anger I had slipped away
and I began to search around for her. As I started to walk away, the arena hushed to silence
and the ceremony was to begin. My ‘prize’ hung onto my arm and dragged me over to the
priest.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in