Hamlet

Today I was reading Hamlet. (I’m surprised that I have not read it before.) But as I was approaching the end, I realized how sad everything really was. Pretty much everyone dies. (Why, Shakespeare??) And my heart nearly broke in the scene where Horatio has to say goodbye to his best friend, Hamlet, when Hamlet dies. And so, I wrote a paragraph of how that scene played out in my head. Don’t worry, I used modern-day English.

Confusion and chaos filled the air. Horatio coughed. “Hamlet?” He called, groping his way to the duelling grounds. There, he found Laertes’ body on the ground, contorted into an unnatural position. His hand deep in a pool of blood from the wound on his chest. Dead. Shocked, Horatio almost fell over. He glanced at the pair of thrones, once housing a happy couple with a once happy son at their side. Now, it held two dying royalties. “My Queen!” Horatio yelled, rushing over. Gertrude’s head had slumped to one side, her eyes staring at empty space behind him. On the ground there lay a goblet underneath the Queen’s hand. Nearby the wine goblet was another puddle of blood. Horatio almost threw up. On the throne sat the King, hand clutching vainly at the open wound in his stomach. He gasped once, then the only sound was the trickling of blood. Tears sprang into Horatio’s eyes. The King deserved worse than death, but not his wife. Not Hamlet’s mother. Hamlet… Horatio spun around and spied his best friend, a clump of black and red on the ground. Horatio shattered. “HAMLET!” He screamed. “No, no, no, no oh no.” Tears were flowing freely now. Horatio choked up. He knelt by Hamlet’s side, and took his hand. “Hamlet. No.” He buried his head into the pale hand, sobbing. Hamlet’s head turned slightly, his voice raspy as he turned to Horatio. “Horatio” He croaked. Horatio looked up, then suddenly leaned over and grasped the goblet of poisoned wine at the foot of the Queen’s throne. “I’ll drink this and we’ll both die together!” Horatio said as defiantly as he could, his voice cracking. “I can’t live without you.” He whispered. Horatio leaned back his head to drink, then stopped when he felt a hand touch his arm. He glanced down. Hamlet, pale and fragile looked up at him with loving and pleading eyes. “No.” He stated simply. Horatio lowered his cup. “Tell my story.” The prince whispered. “Remember me. The rest is silence.”

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