Ophelia’s Diary: The Hazy Skies and My Unraveling Path
Date 15 January 1450
In the mists of this day, the weather doth cloak the world in foggy shrouds as I write my diary as Ophelia’s Diary. As I ascended mine attic, perched upon the eastern minaret beneath the weighty arc of yon castle, I found myself on the verge of losing my way. This castle, a vision of splendor in the heart of Denmark, doth hold my abode.
Upon the stairs, a perilous journey, I trod with care. The fifteenth stair revealed itself as a lengthy pilgrimage from the quaint zoo of Hamlet. My brother, Laertes, hath embarked upon the front lines, sent by King Claudius himself. The mantle of leadership doth rest upon his shoulders. Such deeds must find a place inscribed in Ophelia’s Diary, as she doth bear witness to the unfolding saga.
Ophelia’s Diary: A Father’s Reproof and Puzzling Thoughts
This day, my father hath reproached me for tardiness and negligence in my duties, chiefly tending to the care of our ducks. Three days past, I neglected their well-being, and one amongst them met its demise, emitting a putrid stench. I sought the aid of a guard to cast it beyond the confines of our zoo.
Returning to my abode, I yearn for repose, yet my ruminations dwell upon my father’s peculiar nature. He doth espouse the wisdom of brevity, proclaiming, “Brevity is the soul of wit.” However, his brevity stretches into prolonged discourse, laden with circumlocutions and weighty words, akin to a discourse in the tongue of the Greeks.
Musing upon the perplexing nature of his objections, I ponder the letter he hath perceived. Once an advocate for advancement, he now advocates retreat. A palpable change doth hang in the air, concealing the true cause. Mayhap this mystery unraveled shall shed light upon Hamlet’s recent avoidance, unveiling the enigma that shrouds our interactions.
Ophelia’s Diary: Reflections on Hamlet‘s Demeanor and the Puzzling State of Affairs
Having undergone the ablution’s purifying stream, I settled at my desk and pondered long upon Hamlet’s recent demeanor toward me. It occurred to me that he may deem me but the daughter of Polonius, unfit to share in royal lineage. Yet, in the brilliance of his eyes, I have witnessed a radiant spark.
I have diligently perused every missive from him, finding solace in the recurring proclamation, “I love you, my dearest Ophelia.” Yet, an apprehension lingers, a suspicion that our entanglement may lead us astray. Hamlet’s conduct of late is curious, for a shadow of discontent hovers over him. Once a mirthful and carefree spirit under Father Hamlet’s reign, he is now swathed in melancholy, uttering words steeped in pessimism.
His riddles confound me, laden with puns and oxymorons, veiling his thoughts in mystery. His discourse, once vibrant with love, now skirts around the subject. Today’s conversation during the play struck discordant notes, a departure from the harmonious symphony of the past six months. May the divine intercede in our love and illuminate the path ahead.
Ophelia’s Diary: Contemplations on Future Alliances and the Absence of Laertes
In deep contemplation of our forthcoming destiny, I envisage a union with Hamlet that transcends mere matrimony. Laertes, my valiant brother, shall ascend beyond the post of a mere outpost commander, receiving swift promotion through the kinship betwixt Hamlet and himself, nurtured by my influence. A room of regal splendor shall replace mine humble abode, akin to the chambers of Hamlet’s esteemed Palatia. Within six to ten hours, I shall ascend to the throne, ruling our small dominion.
Yet, in the midst of these musings, a yearning for the presence of my brother Laertes arises. His absence gnaws at my heart, for he, with his pragmatic wisdom, speaks in a language my father shuns. Only he can proffer sagacious counsel in these perplexing times, guiding not only my path but also that of Hamlet. Their amicable alliance holds promise for the future, envisioning Laertes as the commander of the front forces in years to come.
Yet, the pervasive confusion blankets my thoughts, mirroring the disarray within the state. The memory of last year, when King Hamlet dispatched him against the Norwegian legions, echoes in my chamber through the medal that commemorates his practical prowess. I yearn for Laertes’ return, longing for discourse on matters of love, politics, and the elusive clarity that eludes us in these tumultuous hours.
Ophelia’s Diary: Midnight Musings and Troubled Sleep
As I prepare to succumb to the embrace of slumber, with the dawn beckoning at seven, a disquietude festers within my thoughts. The resolve takes root to visit Hamlet and Queen on the morrow, to confront Hamlet directly regarding the enigma that veils his demeanor. The prospect of a clandestine meeting, perhaps in a quiet corner, flits through my mind, yet the circumstances may not permit such a rendezvous. My father’s disapproval looms, casting a shadow over the prospect of a solitary encounter.
In the midst of these contemplations, rest eludes me, and the chime of midnight brings a disconcerting unease. A haunting whistle pierces the stillness, hinting at an ominous presence, a danger that lurks in the shadows for Hamlet, for me, and for Laertes. Sleep evades my grasp, and my fervent prayer ascends to the heavens for divine intervention in these foggy and uncertain conditions.
References: Ophelia’s Diary
- Jones, Ernest. “From Hamlet and Oedipus.” Hamlet: Critical Essays. Routledge, 2014. 243-257.
- Ronk, Martha C. “Representations of” Ophelia“.” Criticism 36.1 (1994): 21-43.
NOTE: This is a page from Ophelia’s diary, a piece of creative writing.
