Spittoon U Corner gives students the opportunity to showcase their creative writing.
The prince casually gazes around his surroundings under the dim light; he sits in a box on the second floor of the theatre. It is a privilege only reserved for the Drama Club members and their close friends. Now, the loud prologue broadcast, the cheers of the actors on stage, and the noise of the audience are all, in his eyes, reflections of the noisy, vulgar, and stupefied Danish court. At this moment, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are probably rushing around the campus looking for him, but they would never imagine that Hamlet had sneaked into the theatre to watch this… Aye, Antigone, an annual performance by his Drama Club. It would last from three to five in the afternoon.
No, he absolutely has not fallen into the hands of a stranger who flattereth with her words and became the folly who only knows enjoyment. Hamlet understands that since his father’s sudden death, he can no longer return to his cherished Drama Club or his past gaiety, just like his futility for rejecting the leave of absence arranged by his Mother and Uncle. Moreover, after today, he will still continue to offer immortal mourning for his father, who was six feet under.
But, oh everlasting God, my soul has almost been wretched by the dead, yet You fixed your canon against self-slaughter—so please, at least allow me to escape this weary, stale, boring and unprofitable world during this performance!
The curtain of the play quietly rises amidst the prince’s immense distress. Upon her arrival, Antigone rises as the protector of her dead brother. She accuses her uncle, the new king, of placing royal authority above kinship since Creon judged his nephew as a traitor and denied a proper burial for him.
Seeing Antigone willing to risk her life for giving her brother an honourable death, even severing ties with her sister for it, and noticing how Creon shared so much similarity with Claudius’s arrogance and cruel commands, the gloom and anger that Hamlet swore to forget just moments ago swirls around him again. He subconsciously grips the armrest of his seat tightly, his cheeks coloured with a shameful red, burning his heart, madly questioning himself—he’s an utter fool, how dare he sit here, be a heartless, damned coward, like a spineless slug, watching a play! Antigone is just a fictional myth, yet her courage far surpasses his own!
“…Sir, do you need some help?”
An accented English voice suddenly cuts in, interrupting Hamlet’s furious thoughts. He turns sharply. The voice comes from the young man sitting beside him. He has a European appearance, with a pale and sick complexion, like someone who just recovered from a severe illness. Strangely, Hamlet’s rage suddenly extinguishes in the face of the young man’s benevolence and sweet countenance. However, he can’t immediately recover from the intense emotional upheaval and can only blankly blurt out a sentence.
“My father has passed away recently.”
As a nobleman, Hamlet soon realises that such a blunt answer to a stranger is utterly inappropriate, especially since the topic is heavy. He shows an apologetic expression and ponders whether to give an awkward response or maintain politeness by silence. But the young man lowers his voice, continuing in a gentle yet somewhat serious tone.
“My condolences. It would help a lot to speak out about this sadness if you wish to. I might understand how you feel as well. My mother passed away two years ago. The companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our minds, which hardly any later relationships can obtain.”
These words strike the prince with a deep pang. His father’s death seems like nothing for those ignorant fools; his mother and uncle shamelessly defile the royal bed by incest, the ministers rush to please the new king, and those citizens only worry about Fortinbras’s army! Everyone blames him for excessively grieving for his father, saying all life comes to an end, and that his obsession was an utterly unreasonable and childish act… But what the young man said unexpectedly brought great condolences to him.
However, despite his moved feelings, Hamlet remains highly vigilant. He scrutinises the smiling young man, who seems a couple of years older than him, with a demeanour and bearing that no commoner would possess. This man must be from a distinguished foreign family, and in his sincere expression he shares a resemblance with Horatio. The prince struggled after a long pause. His reason compels him to protect the honour of the Danish royal family, but his emotions urge him to unleash his burden. Ultimately, he strikes a balance by revealing his gloom with half-disguised truths.
“I appreciate your comfort, Sir. But my father has only been gone for two months, and the drinks used for mourning at his funeral quickly turned into the wedding feast for my mother and my uncle. Moreover, my uncle is no different from that Creon on this stage; he claims to love me, but wants me to abandon my studies here.”
Now it’s the young man’s turn to feel utterly lost—he comes from a harmonious and happy family. His parents are gentle and tolerant; their close family bond is his source of joy. The conspiracies, schemes, and betrayals conducted by close ones seem alienated from his experience. Therefore, when facing this rigid moral dilemma, he can only try to soothe the prince by mimicking the courteous and gentle manner of his stepsister and best friend.
“Well, perhaps you can find some inspiration from the performance.”
Hamlet, of course, doesn’t know the young man’s thoughts, but can infer his attitude from the response. So, he merely nods, and their conversation ends with a long silence.
Antigone has now confronted Creon. The maiden upholds divine laws and kinship, claiming that burying her brother is following God’s will and respecting familial bonds. The king advocates the state and laws, emphasising his absolute royal power and his intolerance of honouring a traitor to the state.
The king’s son begs for his fiancée’s life, arguing that the king’s command opposes the entire city’s will, and even threatens suicide as an exchange. But the father’s heart is as hard as a stone, resolutely condemning the maiden to her most tragic fate.
After these two scenes, the play reaches an intermission. The lights have been turned on again, shifting focus back to the two young men in the box. Hamlet’s gloom is slightly alleviated. The chorus’s critique of love reminds him of his remarried mother and dear Ophelia, causing him to chuckle.
“Love always turns the wise into fools, the cautious into impulsive. It’s the perfect catalyst for any tale.”
Something in these words seems to hit a sore spot, and the young man’s expression suddenly turns as unpleasant as if he had swallowed a fly.
“If I were Haemon, I would also do my utmost to protect my girlfriend.”
“You have a girlfriend, too?”
“In fact, she is my fiancée. Her name is Elizabeth, an orphan my parents adopted during a trip to Italy; we grew up together. She’s my angel, my treasure.”
The tension between them instantly dissipates. The young man recalls letters previously sent to his apartment while showing a gentle smile, which makes his face even more endearing. The joy of family and friends reconstructs the scene of his carefree childhood, further intensifying his longing to return to Geneva as soon as possible.
“You are the lucky one. My girlfriend’s father and brother don’t think highly of me, and she answered none of the letters I sent home.”
Not receiving a reply to his complaint makes Hamlet turn. The young man leans forward, his gaze deepening, clearly in contemplation.
“I’m thinking about their earlier confrontation. You see, Antigone’s persistence is admirable. When facing the mighty and terrific trial of her courage, she was steady to her purposes and firm as a rock.”
He spoke this with a voice so modulated to the different feelings expressed in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design and heroism. The prince nods while suddenly recalling his earlier thought. He had once obeyed the king and queen’s authority, responding to their questions with compromise and sarcasm. This is also a kind of weakness; perhaps he should sit down with his mother when returning to Denmark…
“Is there any difference between Creon and Antigone, I wonder?”
Hamlet is shocked by the young man’s question, staring at him incredulously.
“You think Creon is right.”
“As a king, his actions shouldn’t be condemned. For the welfare of the state, burying a traitor is indeed unacceptable and should be legally punished. Furthermore, in a spiritual sense, their conflict is essentially a clash between the law of the divine and the law of man, with Creon representing the latter’s authority. His action embodied a humanistic belief that humans could surpass the gods. Also, both characters are equally obstinate—Antigone stakes her life, and Creon insists on her death regardless of threats.”
Hamlet has long equated Creon with Claudius. Thus, he unravels the young man’s confusion step by step in a tone that suppresses anger and sarcasm.
“No, there is a clear line between them. Creon seems to be maintaining the order of the state, or acting for the benefit of the people. But what he actually thinks is, as he said himself, it’s to ‘respect his royal authority.’ That scoundrel hides his greedy ambition under the guise of justice, unlike Antigone, who acts purely out of familial devotion. Moreover, even if his intentions are good, Antigone has the support of the people, whereas Creon’s stubbornness is purely self-isolation. This difference will inevitably lead him to his own destruction. I predict that he will later have to take responsibility for the mistakes made by this act.”
Immersed in his thoughts, Hamlet does not notice that with each argument he makes, the young man’s face grows paler. His body tenses, and even his teeth are chattering; the illness that had taken months to cease seems about to relapse. It is only his usual calm demeanour that stops him from jumping up and fleeing from the box.
Indeed, he had wished to bring light into humanity’s dark, limited lives, like Prometheus stealing the fire, so he began his research on reanimating life. However, this motivation also extensively included a greed for praise and glory from mankind. Then, consumed by this burning desire, he began a fervent devotion in the laboratory, isolating his family and nature, ultimately costing his health. All this madness culminated in the monster’s dull yellow eyes on the rainy night, and the image of his fiancée turning into a maggot-infested corpse. These thoughts haunted him — was Creon a foreshadowing of his fate? Never! The monster might have already died somewhere…!
The lights go out suddenly, and their focus shifts to Antigone’s reappearance. The maiden sings three laments, stepping slowly towards the tomb to become the sacrifice of the underworld god. She loathes that her reverence has become irreverence, yet she claims herself to be descending to the underworld with honour to reunite with her family.
The young man is still entangled in the nightmare of his experiment. He forces his thoughts to shift immediately, but like the ebb and flow of the tide, the tide always returns. Subconsciously, he starts discussing the initial purpose of his experiment with the person next to him.
“Life is fleeting, Death is approaching, but all for what purpose?”
“Good riddle. Maybe even the dead themselves don’t know. A few months ago, I heard that several graves near the college’s church were dug up, and their bones went missing. A large hole was found in the fence behind the Department of Life Science. How ironic it is, that corpses desperately trying to return to the world while the living actively seek death since it has become the only refuge from the horrifying world.”
Hamlet recalls his thoughts before the play and laughs. The young man shivers and shakes his head at this poetic language. He begins to mutter, which was his usual way of speaking, never explaining himself, as if in a private monologue.
“That’s a philosophical death. Death itself isn’t frightening; it is merely a shackle of spirit and flesh that can always be conquered. I have a dream, that people one day will escape the suffering of losing loved ones, and the dead could be reanimated.”
The prince keenly realised that their positions have reversed, and now the young man is revealing his unspeakable secrets. He also instantly understands why this man would defend Creon — his thoughts defied natural laws. It is too bizarre, too stubborn, akin to that obstinate antagonist. But Hamlet cannot condemn him, as he himself is also pursuing seemingly mad endeavors — a gravekeeper immersed in mourning the dead endlessly, he can somehow understand the young man’s insane persistence. It would be impolite to pry into his actual condition, so the prince chooses to look at the young man with mere curiosity.
“Is this a prophecy? Manipulating death, that’s challenging God’s role.”
“My professor said that, the labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind. And, as she said —
And yet, as men’s hearts know, I have done no wrong;
I have not sinned before God.
Or if I have, I shall know the truth in death.”
The young man makes this fearless declaration, while covering his face to avoid others’ gazes. This contradicting image serves as his deep inner conflicting mind; one part of him struggles to justify his experiment from the noble intention and diligent progression while another part of him starts to feel guilty and terrified by the grotesque, inhuman results. Both result in his desperate attempt to escape the experiment that has spiralled out of his control.
The plot on stage also takes a sharp turn. The blind prophet sings of the king’s downfall. He finally relents, only to face a series of deaths — Antigone’s death led to his son’s suicide, and his son’s death caused his wife’s suicide. The stubborn king exits the stage in complete madness, with the final warning from the Theban chorus lingering in the air.
“Wisdom is supreme for a blesséd life,
And reverence for the gods
Must never cease.
Great words, sprung from arrogance,
Are punished by great blows.
So it is one learns, in old age, to be Wise.”
The audience erupts in thunderous applause. They stand as one, except for the two who remain silent in the box.
“Perhaps, our discussion is entirely meaningless? We claim to be the puppeteers of fate, but we are, in fact, the puppets.”
“…Yes, yes. Maybe it’s just futile to struggle with fate; we will, no matter how severe the rebellion is, ultimately be tamed and accept the life that is out of our control.”
They do not reach a consensus. As one man continues to ponder the rationality of his actions under the guidance of fate, praying to it for future assistance; the other man is desperately hiding his mistakes under the name of destiny.
The actors disperse, and the audience eventually leave. The two young men get up and leave the box together, walking down the stairs.
“I came to watch the play as a hobby. And you? Are you interested in Drama, too?”
“Not exactly. I’ve been studying Eastern literature with a friend recently. He played a supporting role in the play, so I came to watch him perform. In fact, there he is.”
Following the direction pointed out by the young man, Hamlet vaguely sees a red-haired man still in costume, talking to other crew members. The gloom on the young man’s face finally disappears, replaced by a genuine, happy smile.
“—Henry!”
The red-haired man waves excitedly upon seeing them and hurriedly packs up to come over. With that name and that appearance, Hamlet finally recalls who he is. Henry Clerval, a college freshman and a new Drama Club member. Thus, the prince also nods towards him.
“Clerval.”
Clerval seems surprised at Hamlet’s sudden appearance as he stops and exclaims.
“Oh! How glad I am to see you too, Hamlet.”
The revelation of royal identity always triggers a chain reaction. Sure enough, the young man next to the prince is momentarily stunned, then quickly calms down and extends his hand with a polite smile.
“Right, by the way. My name is Victor, Victor Frankenstein.”
Accustomed to this, Hamlet shakes hands firmly with the young man while muttering the name, Frankenstein? He remembers hearing it once from Guildenstern. A renowned student in the life sciences department, reticent and respected by many professors. But these matters are now irrelevant to the prince, who casually replies while pulling out his vibrating phone, noticing Horatio has urgently sent a dozens of messages.
“I hope you can forget my title. The person you just talked to was merely Hamlet. But we probably won’t meet again.”
Victor Frankenstein watches as the prince, who has just been conversing with him, looks at the screen with widened eyes, his face turning pale, and dashes out of the theatre without a word.
Henry then puts his arm around him.
“I haven’t seen him for about two months. Victor, how did you two end up talking together?”
Victor shakes his head.
“That’s only a coincidence. Let’s forget about him; I wonder if the letter from Geneva has arrived.”
“It should have. I saw the postman come to the apartment again today. Let’s hurry back.”
Elsa Shiao, born in Taiwan, is an English Major undergraduate. She is a hungry reader, fascinated by English modern Literature. She also lets her imagination roam in the dream to be a novelist.