Ego's perspective

  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 g...

 “I know he has one. I’ve seen him write on it when I was a kid,” a voice cried out from one of the rooms upstairs in that nalukettu. The house was searching itself one could say, as if a man was searching for answers within himself.  Sun trekked through the sky and reached its peak, everyone in the house heeded the call of hunger. Except for one young man. “"Why is he so adamant about finding that old thing, assuming it even exists?” an elderly man spoke sitting down. “He wants to show it off when he joins the party tomorrow. What else can create a bigger wave than donating the personal diary of a freedom fighter and the best friend of a great martyr?” a motherly voice spoke, coming out of the kitchen with trays and dishes of scented food in hand. The little girl at the table took a bite out of the pappadom and smiled cutely to avoid punishment. When she felt her mother's eyes on her face she asked her father to explain why grandpa was such a big name in the village.  Ch...