The story of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, to the beat of Poe’s “The Raven”

Once inside a castle dreary lived a family, bleak and teary,

Mourning o’er their lost king who died three months before.

As falling tears were splashing, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at their castle door.

“‘Tis some visitor,” they muttered, “tapping at our castle door –

Sightseeing in Elsinore.”

‘Twas a friendly foreign scholar who had given them a holler,

Having just come back from noticing a ghost in the décor.

He was certain that, moreover, he’d been fully sane and sober

And sought to help the rover. “For his son he must implore –

For his young and brooding, princely son who’s saddened to the core.”

(Famous here for evermore.)

But the son, who still was grieving, hadn’t had so great an evening,

And was tricked into believing that his love loved him no more;

Her father and her brother didn’t like her princely lover

And were spying undercover to their private lives explore.

They sent friends undercover to their private lives explore –

Not so private anymore.

But Hamlet got excited when he heard he was invited

To come be reunited with the father he adored.

The ghostly apparition told a tale about sedition:

“My brother’s gross ambition is the thing I’ve called you for.

King Claudius has killed me, and this thing I must implore:

See to it he live no more.”

Prince Hamlet was appalled to hear his uncle had the gall

To murder his own flesh and blood behind a bedroom door.

Though Hamlet’s thoughts went hazy and he started talking crazy,

We must agree that maybe this was all planned out before –

We must admit that maybe he had planned it out before,

Hiding things he had in store.

As months went by, his sadness turned increasingly to madness,

Which bent his thoughts on evil plots to finish what he swore.

But though his blood was spiking, he was not much of a Viking

For he thought and thought, and cried a lot, and then he cried some more.

Quoth Prince Hamlet: “Be? What for?!”

“Something here is rotting,” said the Danes, who got to nodding

As Prince Hamlet started plotting to cause anarchy galore.

He decided that same day that he would write himself a play

That would make the King go, “Hey! I cannot hide this anymore!

I cannot hide the fact of my betrayal anymore!

I’m the one who killed your lord.”

The idea was appealing and the play was quite revealing

Since the King was not concealing his desire for the door.

The Prince then scorned his mother for her awful choice of lover:

“You bed your husband’s brother! Your behavior I deplore!”

“I wed my husband’s brother so the kingdom would endure!”

Quoth Prince Hamlet: “Two-bit whore!”

He was feeling rather vicious when a noise made him suspicious.

The thought was too delicious for Prince Hamlet to ignore:

“I’m feeling fairly certain that the King’s behind that curtain.

Methinks that I shall stab it ‘til the blood begins to pour.”

And quickly did he stab it ‘til a body hit the floor –

P’lonius dead, and nothing more.

Feeling slightly bothered that her boyfriend killed her father,

Ophelia talked ‘til people gawked, then babbled on some more

For Ophelia was a Dane who had clearly gone insane

And threw herself into a stream from off the flower’d shore.

Yes, leapt unto her death from off the lovely flower’d shore.

Quoth Laertes: “This means war!”

The Prince agreed to duel, but then Laertes acted cruel

And played him for a fool by putting poison on his sword.

He also got to thinking that Prince Hamlet should be drinking

A deadly drink to make him sink down dying to the floor –

A poisoned drink to make the Prince fall dying to the floor –

Writhing there, alive no more.

They gathered in the hall to watch and see which man would fall.

Laertes hoped the brawl meant he could even out the score

But ran into a kink when Gertrude grabbed the poisoned drink.

He couldn’t stop to think on how to save her anymore.

The only thing to think about was how he could outscore

Hamlet ‘til he hit the floor.

The tides were quickly turning and it soon became concerning

That Prince Hamlet started burning in a wound from rival sword.

They made a weapons trade and soon the pair would need first aid

For both were cut by blade on which foul poison had been poured:

Their wounds were of the kind which only antidote restored –

Only this and nothing more.

The quickly-acting toxin could have killed a team of oxen.

The Prince, betrayed with poisoned blade, could surely wait no more.

Having found a reason to at last avenge the treason,

He felt it was high season that this crime be answered for –

He saw to it that Claudius this treason answered for,

Stabbing him right through the core.

And Gertrude, without thinking, kept on drinking, kept on drinking

As her son impaled her husband ‘til the hall ran red with gore.

And the King had all the shrieking of a demon that was freaking,

And the sword within his body threw his blood upon the floor;

And the bloodstain on the carpet that spread out across the floor

Shall be lifted – nevermore!


(This awesomeness was found on shmoop.com)

Ing is taking over the interwebs!

Angst-y Ing?

Love Never Dies **spoilers**

The sequel to The Phantom of the Opera in which Christine (Andrew Lloyd Webber’s version of Ophelia) – apparently suffering from Stockholm syndrome – sleeps with the sociopath who has stalked her since her childhood, conceives his bastard son, lies for 10 years about the boy’s paternity to her alcoholic, compulsive gambling, abusive husband, leaves her husband for the sociopathic stalker, traumatizes her son by revealing to him his true parentage while he is in shock from having been exposed to the man’s horribly disfigured face, and then dies, leaving the boy alone with the insane father he doesn’t know.

With pretty music.

Song of Ice and Fire Calendar

Ok, this is old news. I mean, the calendar is for 2009. I hadn't heard of it before, though, and I am really happy with the artwork shown in the sample picture:



Jon Snow with Ghost, Eddard Stark cleaning his sword in the Godswood after beheading the Black deserter, Sansa building her snow Winterfell, The Red Knight with his flaming sword, and Davos, the Onion Knight, rowing Melissandre into Storms End where she gives birth to the shadow that kills the castellan and lifts the seige...

All great, in my humble opinion.

What do you think?

Pleasantly surprised to have survived the battle against the Dark Lord. Rand decides to fulfil his life-long ambition.

squeee!

If you're a gamer, you should watch The Guild.
www.watchtheguild.com

Bros before Hos. It's been true forever.

So guilt inducing-ly cheesy...

Please, let it not be real.

You may know that Red Eagle had a Graphic Novel series going of Robert Jordan's New Spring, but stopped production in the middle of the series. I was quite happy to get an email recently telling me that the unsent issues will now be sent!



I also found recently that they will be producing a graphic novel of The Eye of the World.

The following pictures were emailed to me by Red Eagle, and I have to say I'm a bit disappointed with their depiction of Mat and especially Perrin.

I do like the art style, though.






Maybe its just on the cover, but Perrin looks like a doofus. =D




What do you think?

First lines

Think you know all the literary works from which I took the first lines that make up my header?

(You can use your handle where it asks for your name.)

Thanks for suggesting this, R.!

First lines » Free Online Quizzes

Header is fixed. Enjoy!

http://fragmentaryblue.wordpress.com/2009/05/07/man-crush/

Best blog post in a while. It made me laugh out loud in my class. =)

I haven't written for so long!

I've decided to give you the little bit I have written of the story in my head that was inspired by JerryCai's amazing Little Red Riding Hood works.

*yes, I know there are no autumn colors or patches of golden sunlight in the art. It just felt right as I wrote.

She slipped among the trees, bare feet silent in spite of the ankle deep autumn blanket of gold and scarlet. Her heart thumped rhythmically within, loud and strong, racing adrenaline along her veins.

The warm, damp smell of the earth, the scent of the decaying leaves wafted on the breeze.

The wind picked up for a moment, twisting a funnel of sunset foliage around her, lifting and tossing her crimson cloak. The heavy cloth and silky lining sussed softly like the quiet sound of a mother hushing her babe. The sound soothed her, calmed the intensity of the hunt momentarily.

Her quarry crouched, vainly attempting to hide his dark bulk in the shadows of the woods, his golden eyes wide, his chest heaving as he sucked oxygen into his burning lungs.

Please…

The whisper drifted to her on the resettled breeze.

So.

They were going to do this the hard way.

Her cloak flared as she drew from its recesses the huge, black sword The Hunter had given her. The tip of the blade sank into soft terra at her feet.

Please…

She would not listen, would not show mercy. He had to have known who he’d been sent to kill, known they would retaliate. Even if he hadn’t, he’d chosen his own fate the day he’d become a Wolf.

As had she.

Oh, she could claim innocence, insist that when the Wolves found her she was too young to know what it was about, but what accounted for the years that she remained with them? They’d hardened her, honed her as sharp as any hilted steel, and she’d let them.

They had taken the little girl, found wandering in the woods in naught but a hooded cloak, and turned her into a weapon. They should not have been so surprised to learn that their weapon could turn on its makers.

The hunted Wolf darted from the dusky patch. Red stood statue still, tracking him with aurous eyes.

Then she followed, the Wolf within lending silence, stealth to her hunt.

David and Caden talk about Dared

"She wants to parley with your fath-" he stopped short as Caden's anger roared to life, wings not quite breaking the surface, dry heat rolling off of her in waves that broke against David, making him stumble back a step. "...with Dared."

He regained the inches that had been lost between them and reached out to brush her bare arm with the callused pads of his fingers. At the center of the slowly waning heat, Caden's skin was surprisingly cool. Her eyes softened, and the heat lessened another few degrees.

She leaned against him, the magic surrounding her now just pleasantly warm, like toast just from the pan, like a freshly filled mug snug between his palms. He chuckled softly. She reminded him of breakfast.

He enveloped her in his arms, toying with the tight, dark curls that now hung past her shoulderblades until the memory of the smell of her full anger - burning flesh and singed hair - made his stomach clench. His hand left her hair to run broad, firm strokes down her back, calming away her uncontrolled magic, tamping down the inner flames with his sure touch.

She relaxed into his ministrations until, had they not been standing, he would have suspected her of being asleep.

"He is a hard man." she murmured into his shirt.

"We will be just as hard." he whispered into her curls.

"He will not keep his word." Suddenly, she was trembling against him. He thought it was from the loss of heat, and drew her up tighter.

"Aestril will keep hers."

Caden tilted her head back, her black eyes searching his for a long time.

She shifted to stand upright, her full height still small next to David.

"We will need a white hare."

Here it is

Suljemen – the biggest man she’d ever met, so strong, so beautiful, so powerful…

Suljemen lay crumpled at Caden’s feet.

The lines he’d traced along her shoulder blades burned, icy-hot, and spread, numbing her heart, creeping up the back of her neck to freeze the flood of guilt-tinged sorrow. The frigid air gathered around her; a cocoon of numbness, a shield against feeling that sucked the icy wind toward her from all directions, making the tunnels howl…

The icy fingers completed their circuit through her body, and she realized that the howling was no longer the wind, but her own voice. She roared at her father, at the strangely numb pain…at her Kennari who had left her.

When the time comes to fly…

The wind burst from the place on Caden’s back that the Kennari had marked, flaring out behind her, solidifying into crystalline wings.

There was no slow spread of wonder, no warmth of gratitude within her. The numbness was all.

Dared reeled back as Caden’s wings spread and the whirlwinds of ice at her back lifted her. She glanced down at the scuffs in the dirt where her shoes had been and saw the long blonde braid snaking in the dirt.

Suljemen…

Her teacher…

Her love…

A spark of anger hidden somewhere in her frozen heart roared to blazing life. Heat scorched through her veins, hunting the cold as it fled.

Her father was moving at the periphery of her vision, and she snapped her head toward him. He swayed slightly, as if buffeted by the hatred that rolled from her in waves. Their eyes locked and, deep in her father’s eyes, Caden saw the unimaginable.

Fear.

Fear that fed the rage that consumed her.

Her wings shattered, ice crystals melting as they sprayed around her, spattering the walls like a cloudburst, as flames, born of the molten hate that flowed through her, took their place.

She dropped the little way she had risen, and stood once again in the middle of the room. Dollops of liquid flame dripped unheeded from her wings, singeing holes in the carpet. She went to her knees next to Suljemen, her tears softly hissing into puffs of steam as they landed on his face. Her fingers brushed against his arm, leaving a charred trail and the smell of burnt cloth, and she recoiled.

A deafening crack echoed down the stairway as a huge chunk of the ceiling fell and rolled past the open door – a reminder that Ebon was dying around them.

The Arch Falls

"The Kennari, my King."

Caden and her Kennari were thrown down to the carpet upon which Dared stood. They rose to their feet and stood, facing the King. Flames of rage and disgust flared in Dared's eyes. He growled at the Kennari.

"You and your...student," he turned his eyes slightly, indicating the girl, "will show proper obeisance when brought before me." Caden realized that her hood had stayed up through all her rough treatment, and her father did not know her. Perhaps that was best for now...

"Do not pretend to be surprised that I am here. You have long known of the danger that is now upon your doorstep. I do not ask you to accept me. I only beg that you let me save your people."

"CORRUPT MY PEOPLE!" Dared roared, and lurched forward, grabbing Caden's arm painfully, pulling her toward him. "As you have corrupted this..."

The words died in his throat as he ripped the fur lined hood back and recognized the face concealed within the fur. For a long moment, her father stared into her eyes, the flame within his eyes growing more and more crazed, his grip growing tighter and more painful. Then the King shoved his heir into the arms of her Kennari and stared at them, silent.

Caden had learned her father's subtleties from infancy. She knew the intricate web the man could weave, and more than that, she knew her father.

Dared was going to kill her Kennari.

"Father..." she began, but he cut her off with a violent chop of his hand through the air.

"Dared," the Kennari tried again. "They will all die."

"And better so, than survive through your means, Suljemen" The king spat.

The sound of the name flowed into Caden. It slid along her veins, tingling as it went, until it crept into her heart and warmth spread through her, making her tremble.

The men stared at one another without a word, silence battling silence.

Caden trembled again, this one seeming to radiate from her and shake the whole room.

Both men looked up in surprise, and Caden realized that it was the city that was quaking.
And then she realized: the city had been still.

When Caden had last felt one of the small tremors common in Ebon, she couldn't recall any more than she could the last time she'd felt her heart beat.

And the city shook again.

The tremors were strong and following one another quickly.

A high-pitched scream ripped Caden's attention to the high-arched window. As the pitch rose, her eyes darted, searching for the source of the terrible noise. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the wail ended, and Caden knew.

"The Arch" she breathed.

She reached for her Kennari's arm, willing his heat to reach through her, warm the icy tendril of fear as it snaked around her heart.

The Buried City sighed heavily, sending a great whoosh of icy air over Ebon, and The East Arch disappeared beneath the ice.