Vengeful Creations || ONC 2021

Chapter Seven

"Haaaamlet!" called the exuberant voice from out in the corridor. "Where be my good lord Hamlet this day?"

Through the crack where the two wardrobe doors met, I still had a decent view of the room. I put my eye to the small gap and peered out.

Next to me, Peter shifted and chuckled under his breath. "So. Come here often?" he asked.

"Are you hitting on me right now?" I whispered.

Peter put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. "Always," he said. He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "Have you met me?"

"I am twelve years your senior," I reminded him.

"Aaaaaand you gave me a 'Hot For Teacher' complex," Peter said. "You only have yourself to thank for my advances."

The commotion of jolly voices coming from the corridor distracted me from a potential comeback.

I watched as Hamlet crossed the room and threw open the chamber door. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern entered, wide grins on their rosy, hungover faces.

"My honored lord!" Guildenstern exclaimed, jubilant.

"My most dear lord!" Rosencrantz echoed. He held his arms wide in greeting.

"My excellent good friends!" Hamlet proclaimed. "How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz!" He embraced them each in turn. "Good lads, how do you both?"

"As the indifferent children of the earth," Rosencrantz answered with a lopsided smile.

"Happy, in that we are not overhappy," Guildenstern added. "On Fortune's cap we are not the very button."

Next to me, Peter made a gagging sound. "So, they all talk like that? All the time?"

I rolled my eyes at him in the semi-darkness. "Yes, Peter," I replied, my voice hushed. "All the time. They're Shakespeare characters, remember?"

"So...this conversation could take awhile," Peter surmised. I could feel his gaze on my face as I heard Guildenstern joke about fortune's favors.

"Yes," I whispered. "It could."

"Wanna play Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

"Peter!" I hissed. "No!"

"We're already locked in a closet together," he rationalized. "We may as well take advantage of the opportunity."

"Shhh!"

I put a finger to my lips and jerked my head toward the three conversing men in the room.

"What news?" Hamlet asked his friends.

"None, my lord," Rosencrantz replied, "but that the world's grown honest."

He began to meander toward our hiding place, his eyes focused on the colorful mural that covered the expansive ceiling. I held my breath.

"Then is doomsday near," Hamlet stated. He rounded the table and stood between Rosencrantz and the wardrobe. "But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular." He put his arm around Rosencrantz' shoulders and casually led him back toward Guildenstern. "What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune that she sends you to prison hither?"

"Prison, my lord?" Guildenstern asked with a chuckle.

Hamlet nodded. "Denmark's a prison."

"Then is the world one," Rosencrantz argued playfully.

"A goodly one," Hamlet concurred. He gave his friends an amicable shrug. "In which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst."