Posted on Thursday, 11 September 2008
Pollonius narrowed his eyes, as he gazed across the polished table at his embattled nephew. He brought his hands together, resting them on the desk with the fingers threaded together. The Royal Ring glinted in the light from the flaming torches that arrayed the walls of the chamber. “My father’s ring”, thought Hamlet. “And by rights, it’s mine.”
“You know,” said Pollonius, a slight smile playing across his lips but his steely gaze not flinching for a moment. “We’re not so different, you and I.”
“You bastard!” Shouted Hamlet, “I’ll never be like you!” With all his might he tried to escape the pull of the guards, his exposed bronzed muscles straining and bulging. But they tugged him back and held him fast.
“Hmm,” said Pollonius, getting up from the desk. He allowed himself a chuckle, “let us see.”
