HamLIT

Prologue WARNING: This story is going to get wild. Seriously, soon I’ll be talking about murder, adultery, prestige, money, social media, drugs, mental illness, vlogging, deranged family dynamics, and some incredibly cheesy (though admittedly rather enjoyable) eighties power ballads. Oh, and spoiler alert! There will be death, death, and more death. Still here? Okay, well, stay if you must—if you dare—but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am your humble narrator. It doesn’t really matter who I am; my job is simply to deliver the story, as I see it, to you, my reader. For all you know, I could be the reincarnation of Shakespeare himself, here to tell his edgiest tale yet. Or I could be just a nerdy teenage girl. Whichever you choose to believe is fine with me. Speaking of Shakespeare, you may notice that this story bears a striking resemblance to the great playwright’s most beloved tragedy, Hamlet. This is completely coincidental, of course. Well, okay, maybe it’s not. In fact, it’s purely intentional. Don’t worry, the story I’m about to tell you is no different from your favorite angsty tale of murder and procrastination at its core. This version is just a little more lit. And, apparently, a lot more cringey. So, if you’re still reading, buckle up. It’s going to be a roller coaster ride from start to finish. Part One