NO DEPOSIT, NO RETURN

Harry · Posted: Mon Feb 14, 2011 10:52 am Post subject:

Bride of Elsinore

Harry Buschman

HAMLET.
I did love you once.
OPHELIA.
Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
HAMLET.
You should not have believed me: for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it. I loved you not.
OPHELIA.
I was the more deceived.

She was alone with her despair. Her brother far away and her father murdered ... she was pregnant and had no one to turn to for advice or consolation. I saw her running through the grass toward the river, she looked back with frightened eyes as though someone might be following her. I could have called to her––she was alone––she needed someone.

What a terrible thing it is to be alone.

When she left the castle that afternoon no one stopped her and she walked through the woods to the river. It was spring. The river was in flood and when they found her she was far down stream. She had floated for a time, buoyed up by the fulness of her gown and some said they could hear her singing quietly to herself for a time ... and then there was silence.

In death she was as beautiful as she was in life, perhaps even more so. Her secret died with her.

NO DEPOSIT, NO RETURN

Monday, February 14, 2011

1 comment:

Posted: Mon Feb 14, 2011 10:52 am Post subject:

Bride of Elsinore Harry Buschman HAMLET. I did love you once. OPHELIA. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. HAMLET. You should not have believed me: for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it. I loved you not. OPHELIA. I was the more deceived. She was alone with her despair. Her brother far away and her father murdered ... she was pregnant and had no one to turn to for advice or consolation. I saw her running through the grass toward the river, she looked back with frightened eyes as though someone might be following her. I could have called to her––she was alone––she needed someone. What a terrible thing it is to be alone. When she left the castle that afternoon no one stopped her and she walked through the woods to the river. It was spring. The river was in flood and when they found her she was far down stream. She had floated for a time, buoyed up by the fulness of her gown and some said they could hear her singing quietly to herself for a time ... and then there was silence. In death she was as beautiful as she was in life, perhaps even more so. Her secret died with her.