six lines #12.

Ahhhhhh back in New York.

I must say that after three weeks traipsing about France I'm more relaxed than I remember being before I left, which I suppose wasn't really a difficult thing to achieve, but still: It's awesome. Perhaps it IS possible to work and enjoy and be relaxed and productive all at the same time. Thrilling!

So with the return of me to NYC comes the next six-line scene, hooray! I do hope that some people enjoy reading them (and writing them) as much as I do.

This one's from Emily Bennett, a gorgeous doe-eyed poet/actor who I met...gosh I don't remember where. Somewhere out and about, at an Opium event or something. Anyway, we seem to attend the same events (Kimball Gallagher's piano concert, readings and more readings, etc) and it's always great to see her. She attended the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art and studied with fantastic talents such as Alan Rickman, Michael Sheen, Kevin Spacey, William Gaskill and Richard Attenborough (whew!) and her blog, Accidental Stars, is full of poetry and other fun stuff. View it here.


The Rest is Silence
by Emily Bennett

Hamlet enters, shuffling off the mortal coil of the earth, and into a white room. This is Purgatory. Ophelia sits in a chair, with flowers in her hair, singing. She is trying to remember how the song goes… Hamlet sits beside her. He takes a flower out of her hair and starts to pick its petals. He lets them fall to the ground. She watches him.

Hamlet: Not to be. Not to be. Not to BE. Not TO be. NOT to be. NOT to BE. NOT TO be. not TO BE. Not-

Ophelia: I haven’t seen my dad yet, but that’s probably because you sent him straight to Hell. So, thanks for that. (pause) You know, if you would have told me you weren’t actually mad, you would have made things a lot easier for me. After all your love letters and promises you go and pull a stunt like that?! You think you see a ghost and you turn the world upside down. I don’t know if you know this, but this is it for us. It’s all over. Life. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. There’s no going back to haunt people. Even you, the observed of all observers, can’t go back. You’re done. You don’t get to revisit the goodly frame, the earth, or the excellent canopy, the air, as you called it. What you saw that night was not your father. You threw your life away. I hope you know that.

Hamlet: (crumbles the flower in his hand, pause) Well, you killed yourself. How does that wash with the officials in the afterlife?

Ophelia: I’m pleading temporary insanity. See I was actually insane. I didn’t fake my way out. I’ll have to do some purgatorial janitorial work here and there for a few months, then I get to go to Heaven, on probation. With good behavior, I’ll get to settle down there. Make a garden with rosemary, rue and daisies. Go swimming. Not have to worry about drowning anymore. (pause) You’re welcome to come visit. You know, if you want to, or whatever.

Hamlet: (silence) I really did love you when we were alive, you know that? (pause) You were just too much of a daddy’s girl.

Ophelia: Momma’s boy.

They look at each other and laugh, loud and long. The laughter echoes in the room as the lights get brighter and brighter. So bright, there’s nothing left but light.

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