HNHS Magazine Text 2020 lr | Page 111

The Boy Who Ran
The boy stood paralysed in the door of the chamber ; a painting of poison and blood meeting him . A man stood in its midst , viewing the scene with more of a wistful disappointment than horror . On noticing the boy , he made his way across the room ; his boots disturbing the settled layer of blood that covered the ground . He leaned down and stared the boy dead in the eye . The man ’ s face told nothing but his eyes ��������� ����� ����� ���� ������ ��������� �������� ���� failing facade . He went to speak , lip quivering as he did .
“ Go to the chapel . Tell them the king is dead . Tell them the queen is dead . Tell them the prince , the king ’ s counselor , and his entire family , are dead . Tell them …” The man trailed off , his eyes wide as if he could barely believe what he was saying . “ Tell them ,” �������������������������������������������������������� is coming .”
The cobbled paths and towering walls of the path through the city were nothing but a blur as the boy darted effortlessly through the maze of buildings and people . His urgency hung aggressively in the ���� ������� ���� ����� �� ������ ��� ������ ����� �� ����� ���� ��������� ��� ����� �������� ��� ���� ����� ����� ��� ��� ���� ��������� ����������� ����� �������� �������� ����� yet the boy kept running . One thought dominated his mind . Get to the chapel . Tell the council . Save the city , and avoid the country falling under harsh ���������������������������������������������������� was to ensure it was ruled by Danish blood . All of this bounced around in his head , slamming against his skull as if trying to escape . In spite of this , the boy kept thinking . His face was locked permanently in a grimace as if the act of holding those thoughts in his head was hurting him . But was it loyalty that held them there ? Or was it guilt ? The guilt of the other ���������������������������������������������������� of his mind .
As the boy drew closer to the heart of the city , the ��������������������������������������������������������� going about their daily life , unaware of the immense change that was about to take hold of Denmark . Faces lined the streets , just as many as noticing him as those who didn ’ t , each of them depending on his deliverance of the message . Every face that he passed made his stomach drop a little lower . The people of Denmark , men , women , and children all depended on what the boy was going to do . All of their futures were intertwined with his now . This should have pushed the boy onward with fresh motivation , but instead , ��� ����� ���� ������� ��� ������ ��� ���� ����� ����� ����� brighter . As his understanding of the responsibility he held grew , he started thinking about what he was doing . He tried to push the thoughts away . He had to deliver the message . It was his duty to the king . The king . The boy stumbled as images of the throne room shot through his mind . The monarch ’ s cold dead eyes glared at him as if judging his loyalty . The boy shook his head , trying to hurl the image from his brain . It was no use . Every time he blinked , all he could see was the King ’ s hulking body splayed lifelessly on the throne . Long arms hung motionless by his sides while pale liquid dripped down from the gash that lay squarely in his chest . For a moment the boy felt his sense of duty restored ; the rekindled need to save the people of Denmark from the same fate . But as it quickly appeared , it was gone . Now 111 the doubt in the boy ’ s mind was becoming clearer . It wasn ’ t the Norwegians that did this . They didn ’ t kill this king , nor did they kill the last one . The boy knew the rumors of the last king ’ s death . He had heard them from his father for months . As far as the people were concerned , the current king was a murderer and when the boy thought about it , as much as he didn ’ t want to admit it , it made sense . The new king had ruled with cruelty and anger . Was it so crazy to think he may have forced his way to the throne ? Yes . ����� ��� ����� ���� ���� ������� ������� ���� ��������� ��� the back of his brain and tried to regain his focus . He told himself it was all just childish emotion . The stress of the situation was clouding his judgement . If the Norwegians took control of Denmark , the people would be oppressed , tortured , and made second citizens in their own land . Even if the king was cruel ������������������������������������������������������ Denmark . A cruel Dane , while dangerous , was better than the Norwegians . However , as the words passed his mind , he found he still didn ’ t truly believe them .
Suddenly , the cathedral became visible , its tall bronze pillars glimmering beneath the sky in the distance . It couldn ’ t be more than ten minutes away ; ten minutes ������ �������� ������ ����� ��� ���� ��������� ���� ����� back against its invaders . The boy looked for the ����������������������������������������������������� was met with nothing but weariness . Despite telling himself he was doing the right thing , he could still feel the doubt creeping in . It was growing stronger . He closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to stop the thoughts , but as soon as he did he was back in the throne room . Now he gazed upon the queen , his eyes falling upon her withered hands , still gripping the empty goblet . His gaze rose to her face . Those poison stained lips , while unmoving , still seemed to speak . Words of fear and pain whispered silently throughout the room , begging the boy to understand . To hear her pain and to understand she had no other choice . That death was her only option . As he looked upon her pale face he started to understand . And it hurt . It hurt to think that the actions of the royal family were enough to drive someone to suicide . It hurt to think about what kind of people they could possibly be .
The cathedral now loomed over him , its hulking mass so large it blocked out the late day sun . The entrance was now minutes away , and still , the boy kept running . As the door got closer , the boy ’ s mind ran faster . His thoughts pumped through his head faster than he could register , and yet he was still no closer to making a decision . All of the logic he had clutched onto so tightly was now before him in pieces , replaced only by a heavy cloud of confusion . The more he ��������������������������������������������������� the oncoming invasion still pushed him forward , yet all the faith he had held in the Danish royalty was gone . Desperate for clarity , the boy forced his eyes shut once again . He opened them to the hollow gaze of the prince .
The cold empty eyes of Hamlet bore right into the boy ’ s soul , locking him in place . As the boy stared deep into those glazed , grey eyes , he felt the prince ’ s sorrow wash over him . A story of anger and revenge , but also sadness and regret . A tale in which he was as much the villain as anyone else . As the boy looked at ���������������������������������������������������� ����������������������������������������������������