Prompt Seventeen

Shakespeare

(Pre-Series)

Claire shifted from foot to foot. Her ankles ached from standing so long and she nearly sat down on the sidewalk. If Mom hadn't been holding her hand to keep her nearby, she might have. "Are we almost done Mama?"

"In a minute dear, I'm trying to figure out the design for your cousin. She's not much good at color coordination." This was added in undertone. Her cousin was getting married in three months and the panic was infectious. She hadn't even figured out the colors for her bridesmaids' dresses, the flowers, the decorations…which left them looking into florist shops, bridal stores, and a hundred other things. Her cousin came out of the shop holding a set of tiger lilies and baby's breath.

Claire liked pretty dresses as much as the next ten-year-old girl, but two hours was pushing it. They'd walked all over town and she just wanted to sit for a while. She looked across the road. There was a park with swing sets, a pretty gazebo, people in costumes…wait, what?

"Mama, can I go over there? There's lots of grown-ups." Claire looked up at her mother hopefully and the woman hesitated, gazing across the road.

Her cousin, Elena, followed her eyes. "Oh, Shakespeare in the Park. They do it the first Saturday of every month during the summer. They're pretty good. It might be a little over a kid's head, but the folks there are super nice."

"Well…we are right across the road. Got your phone hija?" Claire showed her the flip phone her mother insisted she carry – for emergencies and calling her parents, of course – and Mom nodded. "All right. You know the drill."

"Don't talk with strangers unless they're police, blah-blah-blah." She kissed her mother's cheek and hurried across the road toward the grassy park. Speeding past the swings and seesaw, Claire slipped toward the gazebo. There were foldout chairs in front of it, and about six people littered the area. Most of them were older, but Claire sat down toward the front as quietly as possible.

A lady in a long red dress was speaking to a man. She looked regal, curly hair held back by a cloth. She was speaking as if grieved. Claire was startled to hear her mother's name, "Ophelia." She was speaking of a character to the man. "There is a willow grows aslant a brook, that shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream," she said. Claire frowned; what did all of it mean? She had always been considered pretty bright, but this sounded old, almost mystical. She let it flow over her, unsure of all the meanings but enjoying the grand sounds.

"Therewith fantastic garlands did she come, of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples that liberal shepherds give a grosser name; but our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke-"

She'd been picking flowers? What kind of name for a flower was "dead men's fingers?" The woman seemed so grieved and Claire felt the tightness of apprehension as she grew more distraught.

As she went on, Claire learned this woman being spoken of, Ophelia, had fallen into a brook and drowned. The speaker was called Gertrude, a queen, and the man was Hamlet. Claire tried to follow along with the story. An hour passed, maybe more. By the end nearly everyone was dead, and when the audience clapped Claire couldn't help but feel muddled. Why the heck had all those people killed each other? It had been a little much.

The actors were leaving the gazebo, taking down their props. A woman dressed in a long white dress caught Claire's eye. She was very slight and pretty, hair dark and silky and cut just above her shoulders. Claire wished her hair could be that straight. There was a blue streak in it, something that struck her as very daring and bright. The young woman noticed Claire and smiled. "You're a bit young to be watching Hamlet, aren't you?"

Claire blushed. "I'm already ten! But…I wasn't sure of everything they were saying. It sounded beautiful though." The woman sat on the nearest chair.

"Shakespeare is pretty tough to understand at first. The more you read and hear, the better you get. Have you ever heard of Romeo and Juliet?" Claire nodded. "This play was written by the same man. It's about Hamlet, whose father, the king, was killed by his brother, and him trying to avenge the death. Along the way a lot of other people die as he seeks revenge and his uncle tries to maintain power since he's become king. My character, Ophelia, loses her father and even her own life because of the fight."

"That's my mom's name." Claire digested what she'd been told. "Why do they all keep killing each other? Why don't they call the police, or whatever they had back then?"

The lady smiled. "That's a good idea, but remember that the uncle was king by that point? He probably controlled the guards." Claire nodded. "It's a story about revenge, and all the things that come from it. Hamlet loses pretty much everyone he cares about and even his own life because of his desire for revenge."

How interesting. Claire tilted her head. "So it's not exactly like good against evil. It's more like good-ish versus bad-ish. Hamlet's not wrong to want justice, but he goes about it wrong."

"Exactly. You're pretty sharp." The lady looked up and stood. "Sorry hon, I've got to get this costume back and change. Me and my band mates are playing a local bar in less than an hour."

Wow, an actress and she was in a band? Claire felt a little starstruck. "What's your band called?"

"We're tossing around names right now. We're going by 'Papa' right now, our dads helped us a lot in getting our gear, inspiring our love of music." Claire thought of her own Papa, always working to help her with school, and understood quickly. "We want to acknowledge all they did with the name." The woman paused. "What do you think? 'Papa' on its own is a little forgettable and we want to spice it up. Any name ideas?"

Claire chewed her lip thoughtfully, glancing back at the gazebo. The play was still swimming in her head and she couldn't think of much else. A man walked by with a box of props and Claire blinked, seeing a familiar white object atop it. "I liked the skull part of the play, where Hamlet talked to it. Maybe Papa Skull?"

The girl crossed her arms slowly, watching the props as well. "…Kiddo, you might just be a genius. I'll run that by my bandmates." She checked her watch. "Shoot, I gotta head out. If you want my advice, look into Shakespeare as you get older. But stay away from Titus Andronicus until you're eighteen!" She hurried off toward a beat up van in the street, a couple of girls in the front and giving her nervous looks. Claire waved after her. Would her mother consider letting her dye some of her hair blue when she got older?

"Claire, there you are!" Her mother sounded relieved and Claire turned to see her and Elena approaching, carrying multiple bags. Claire hurried to her and took two bags. "Thank you dear. How was the play?"

"It was neat. I didn't understand everything, but the words sounded so beautiful. It was called Hamlet."

Mom smiled. "My mother loved that play! She got the name Ophelia from it. It's a bit bloody though, isn't it?"

"A bunch of characters died! But they didn't have a bunch of blood flying around, it was just acting," Claire added hastily, hurrying after her. "I want to try reading some Shakespeare, Mama! Maybe some of the easier ones first?"

"I think I have a book of his works at home, some of his poetry." Mom put out an elbow and Claire took it. "I'll look when we finish up here." Claire followed her obediently, happy to finally be heading home.

But she never did forget that day of Shakespeare in the Park.

End of Prompt Seventeen