Ghosthunters: Elsinore
Midnight. The misty battlements of Elsinore Castle. Hamlet holds an EMF reader. Horatio follows, lugging a Spirit Box and camera.
HAMLET (urgent whisper)
'Sup, Spook Squad. It's your boy, Hammy Prinz — Paranormal Investigator, Truth Seeker, Prince of Denmark. Ghost activity reported at my crib. No hesitation. Tonight we hunt the Ghost of Elsinore!
HORATIO
Probably just another draft and a badger.
HAMLET
Smash like and sub— hold up. Cold spot. EMF spike!
A gust of wind. Mist coils. A glowing ghost materializes, regal and weary in battered armour.
HAMLET (gasping)
Full body—confirmed! We got a full-body apparition!
HORATIO
Got him. Stay cool!
HAMLET
Told you, bro. More things in heaven and earth.
GHOST (solemnly)
I am thy father’s spirit,
Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night...
HAMLET (nodding urgently)
Speak your truth! We’re rolling.
HORATIO (checking Spirit Box)
Battery’s solid. Spirit bandwidth optimal.
GHOST
List, list, O, list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love—
HAMLET (half-whisper, awed)
Dude. Five-star monologue. You used a ghostwriter?
GHOST
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
HORATIO (frowning at gear)
Uh... Spirit Box just croaked. Entity’s pulling watts.
HAMLET (excited whisper)
Getting haunted hard. Slap in a VPN ad in the edit.
GHOST
The serpent that did sting thy father's life
Now wears his crown.
HAMLET
Ghost beef, bro. Royal drama never dies. Smash that bell so hard it rings in the afterlife!
HORATIO (tapping Spirit Box)
Gonna need a Patreon for this. Or see if your uncle’s up for a sponsorship.
The camera beeps erratically, then sparks and goes silent.
GHOST (glowering)
Seriously? Amateurs. I’ll go haunt the Scot. Less talk, more stab.
The Ghost gives a tired thumbs-up and dissolves. Hamlet and Horatio stand there, stunned.
HORATIO
Ghosted us. I mean... that spook looked a lot like your dad.
HAMLET (ignoring him, breathless)
Best hunt ever. Solid A-grade paranormal. Mom’s gonna freak at this footage.
HORATIO (checking camera)
Can’t believe it. Memory card’s cooked. No proof.
HAMLET (brooding)
Epic tragedy. Ophie’s gonna say I’ve lost it. Might even be right.
He lifts the EMF reader to his chest and looks at it for a moment, then puts it aside.
HAMLET (broken smile)
Story of my life.
Fade to black. On-screen text:
“TO BE OR NOT TO BE CONTINUED.”