It was a peculiar night, the kind of night where
stories come to life. Houses of ill repute and blinking streetlamps dimly
illuminated the town. Leaving behind footprints on the snowy mud, a cloaked man
walks...
A tavern stood, barely visible in the blizzard. The
man walked in and slips in two pence to a least drunk man and asks. "Point
me to the direction of one William Shakespeare." The man lazily pocketed
the coin and pointed to a jovial man chatting animatedly to a bored and
half-asleep barkeep. Taking a stool near him, the man ordered a whiskey. In his
merry mood, William studied the man. "Haven't seen you here before?"
William asks.
"Haven't been here before."
"Ha, a witty traveler, just what I needed."
William turned his chair to the man and extended his
hand, chuckling drunkenly.
"The name's William Shakespeare."
The stranger made no move to shake Williams's hand.
The rude yet witty stranger was getting more and more mysterious and
intriguing. That much was clear from William's smile.
"I write plays to make a living, and you seem like a good character for one. Tell me your story. I will immortalize you." he said in benevolence.
The man put down his empty glass and moved to wave
down the barkeep, but before he could, William jumped behind the bar, grabbed
the top shelf bottle, and resumed his seat in a matter of seconds. With the new
bottle concealed under the table, he talks in a hushed voice.
"This is the most expensive bottle here. If you
give me your story, I will share this with you."
The stranger didn't even turn his head to look at the
bottle. And just before the silence rotted. "The name is Hoby." He
pulled back his hood to reveal a serious man with deep brown eyes, which to
William, looked like a muddy puddle of melancholy. William excitedly refilled
Hoby's glass with the dusty bottle and toped his own before putting it between
his legs. "I used to serve a duchess. After her marriage, I left to find
someone" the man poured down the glass into his mouth and swallowed with
ease. "Oh come on, I didn't just give you a drink more pricy than my life
to get such a small information" William spoke as if they were old
friends. When he met silence, William took a sip of his glass and found
the scotch to burn his lips.
"I've always admired my lady. Somewhere along the
way, admiration grew into love. But I suppressed it. Then one day I got a
letter by her hand confessing her love for me. My enthusiasm made me blind by
love and the promise of all that comes with it. But it was just a harmless
practical joke by her maid and uncle. They convinced my lady that I was mad and
locked me in a cell with no light and almost convinced me that I was going mad,
just for a giggle, of course. When I finally was released, she married someone
she met hours before. Her uncle and maid also found a happily ever after, what
a fabulous comedy. You are a playwright so you would know about comedies right.
They always end in marriages and tragedies in death?" the stranger spoke
without even turning his head. His eyes were swimming in the empty scotch
glass. William lost all his buzz and sat paralyzed looking at the man. A
strange sense of peculiarity washed over William. He took another sip of his
glass, this time it didn't burn. Silence stood between the men like a specter
of past and present.
The man stood up and walked towards the wash. He
looked back to William, sitting frozen but the gears in his head-turning. Hoby
beckoned a man sitting alone drinking cheap beer to the shadow of the corner
and gave him a gold ring as payment and whispered something in his ear. As Hoby walked into the wash the man
walked past William, slightly brushing him. And made a somewhat clumsy exit.
Hoby resumed his seat after a while, but William
hadn't moved an inch. Hoby took the bottle, refilled William's glass, and
emptied the bottle to his mouth before concealing his face again.
"Anything else you want to know?" the man asked. William could only
whisper a no with distant eyes as if looking through reality itself. The man
hailed the barkeep for a refill.
As the barkeep
obliged, he spots the bottle on the table near William, and his jaw dropped.
"You goddamned wanderer, you drank my most prized possession." The
barkeep screamed, waking every single soul slumbering in the filthy corners of
the tavern. "I knew you were a nutcase, your stupid stories about devils
granting wishes. If you can't pay for the bottle, you are dead." The sound
of impending conflict drew in people like a moth to fire. As the last spray of
spit left the barkeep, a circle of men formed around William. Coming back to
reality by the overwhelming anger of the barkeep and the smiling faces of the
people around him, William spoke with a shaking voice.
"I will
give you all the money I carry, but the rest I can only pay after tomorrow.
Don't worry. I am a famous playwright in London. I assure you I can pay you
back."
Suddenly his face grew pale as he realized he didn't
have his money purse with him. His nervous patting down made the situation
clear for the barkeep. The moment hung
there for a moment before a fist connected with William's jaw. The barkeep then jumped over the
bar and picked up William by his collar for another, but before he could, a
strong hand stopped him. As he was turning back cursing, he met a fist that
knocked the wind out of him. What followed can be described as a bloody and
filthy bar fight, but that would be an oversimplification.
When the fight was over, everyone dusted themselves
off except one man who still lay face down in the mud near the bar. As the men
turned him over, they found him with a deep gash in his heart and a quill
impaled in the wound.
Later that night. The hooded man walks in the blizzard
through the mountains. Shedding his cloak, he looked up to the heavens and
spoke as if to a lover, "My name is Malvolio Hoby, and I have killed my
maker"
News of the murder in the tavern spread throughout
London. It even reached the globe theatre. The news broke William Shakespeare's
heart. His best friend and rival Kit Marlow has been killed in a bar fight.
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