Rosencrantz Speaks

Image Credit: Elizabeth H., San Bernardino, CA       Hamlet, do me a favor and just sit still for a couple seconds. I guess you never learned your lesson at Wittenberg. I mean they always made you sit in the corner and wear that dunce hat for fidgeting. Sorry, I always forget that you are sensitive about that. Anyway, Hammy, I need to talk to you. Don’t make that face, I need you to listen for once. I’m supposed to make sure you don’t go jump off a cliff, but how come no one follows me to check up on me? Right, because I’m not a psychopath who talks to himself in the corners of an enormous castle. I don’t understand you; you are the prince of Denmark, and you act like the son of the maid. Do you want to know something else, Hamstring? You never do anything decisively. You need to think about every possibility a million times over before making a move. That’s why things escape so easily from you. Do you remember that girl from school? What was her name ... Roselyn? You better remember her because I surely do. I recall your feeble attempt to court her. It was hilarious! Looking at the ground you would ask her, “Wh-wh-where is the bathroom?” And she would reply, “The same place where it was yesterday, right behind you.” There’s something I have to tell you Ham-omelet - I might have had a thing with Roselyn. She was irresistible. I had a lot of fun with her a couple of nights, but of course, she could not find out I was connected to you or else she would think I was like you. Occasionally, she would mention a strange lad who crashed into things trying to follow her around. I knew that was you. Honey Ham, you are too slow with the girls, and with everything else, I might add. Your mother actually thinks you studied at Wittenberg! Poor queen, if she knew that you only made it through because Guildenstern and I did all the work for you. Your philosophical ventures are mere excuses for your permanent state of laziness! If it weren’t for us, you would not have passed. By the way, you never did thank us. Ham-cake, you really need to live a little. You are uptight and you let opportunities pass by. Not to rub it in, but I know you have a thing with that cutie, Ophelia. Take it easy. Fine, I won’t call her a cutie, but sit still because I’m not finished. When I arrived here at Elsinore, she was complaining about you constantly - how you are strange and fickle with her, and have constant mood swings. You do not know how to treat a lady, but don’t worry about Ophelia. Don’t get hysterical, it’s nothing serious. Besides, she’s crazy about you, literally. I’m setting her straight for you, you know, with a little more experience. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. Really, what would you do without me? This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.



MAURA YZMORE: Lupus in Fabula

A girl in a red hood skips along the forest path. A wolf beholds, entranced. His mouth waters. He never hears two little pigs sneak up. The pigs drag the unconscious wolf away, discuss rebuilding their flattened homes. They can afford brick now; the girl’s grandma has paid them well. Maura Yzmore is a Midwest-based … Continue reading MAURA YZMORE: Lupus in Fabula →

ERIN GILMORE: 1983

“Grandy, will you tell me about Hawaii?” A pause, and then he brushes his bottom lip thoughtfully with the edge of a thumb, the blue anchor on his forearm gone soft and blurry with time. In his eyes, I catch a glimpse of metal and fire. “Not much to say.” Erin Gilmore is a writer … Continue reading ERIN GILMORE: 1983 →

AUTUMN BOLTE: Young Adult

Turn on lo-fi music. Drive my car so I can nap. Wake me up anyways to kiss. Roll down the windows, wind tangling my hair. Take me later for a bike ride; take me anywhere. Let me pick scabs off my knees without judgement. Let me be a kid again. Autumn Bolte is an undergraduate … Continue reading AUTUMN BOLTE: Young Adult →

LAURA BESLEY: Her Glorious Face

Every morning, on the 8:04, I look for her face. Sometimes I see individual stars, but never the entire constellation. This is her train. The train that took her face and scattered her stars into the darkness around it. All I want is to see her face one more time. Laura Besley writes short fiction … Continue reading LAURA BESLEY: Her Glorious Face →

TYLER ASHTON: Praying For Rain

The first drops of rain were a relief; the dry earth lapped them up greedily. Eventually the ground’s thirst became satiated, and the puddles started to grow. When the road washed out we began gathering at the church, not just to pray, but because it was built on a hill. Tyler lives in Denver, where … Continue reading TYLER ASHTON: Praying For Rain →