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He · That · Would · Be · Hamlet

Another twist.

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It hardly feels as though I should be writing about myself now.

For the count, something peculiar happened to me. I was struggling to keep a grip upon... anything, holding my sister's body to my chest, when a strange inclination came over me. Something in my mind informed me the correct thing to do in this situation would be to demand a duel off the monster. Which if one contemplates it, is hardly a sensical thing to do, hardly the thing I would have said I would do had you hypothetically asked me what I would do in a situation such as this one. However, I could not stop myself. As we duelled, I began to recall the swordplay teacher I had in my past life, and how to use my blade.However, the creature was better. It fought like...

I cannot find a suitable metaphor. It fought like the man I am swiftly beginning to remember.

...but it cannot be him, it cannot! He wasn't anything like this monster! If he is the monster... why does he claim to be my son, why does he say he loved my sister, and why does he torment me like this?!?!
Current Mood:
confused Confused.
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