Shakespeare from his grave

In the dark blue night, when the footsteps echoed in rhythm, a figure walked inside the graveyard.

With two bottles clinging together in the grip; he rested on one of the gravestones.

Then he looked up at the far, bright moon and sighed. He was waiting for something to happen.

The graveyard had ankle high grass that went from the ground to the height of stones, hiding the several date of deaths beneath them.

'Most of it must be of ladies', the shadowy figure thought and chuckled.

He was alone, with the exception of his own shadow , which fell on the neighbouring
gravestones.

The moon was the only source of light here.

Just when he put the bottles down on the cushion of grass, the land around him shook a little, fell and arose. In few moments, there stood another man.

But he was unlike the person who was waiting with the bottles.
With his old fashioned clothes, ruff around the neck and dead eyes, this zombie seemed uninterested in the breeze of the graveyard.

But now, since he was anyway out in the open, bathing in the same moonlight like the other guy, he decided to just move on and be done with tonight's meeting.

"Good dawning to thee, friend!” He greeted.

"You seemed to be pretty in the mood tonight, ha?" The gloomy figure said.

"Ay, dear friend", nodded the dead and took one bottle in his hand.

He rose the bottle with its neck down. Few drops slipped and fell from its tip. But before the liquid was about to be poured down the neck, the dead looked at the guy, as if to confirm something.

"Is it thine?" the dead was suspicious.

"Obviously"!

"What the word mean"?

"Ahh, in your words it is, I assume-Indeed ay"!

He smiled and thanked me for bringing it to him.

“I am high-lone dear" he said guzzling down the juice.

Soon the bottle was finished and he went for another. But now he was sipping it, sitting beside the grave of a fellow sleeper.

"What are you doing nowadays?" The other figure had nothing else to ask.

“I possess no meaning of the words you spoke of" he said.

"Obviously, how would you"

"No dear friend, It must be - your unawareness is obvious Sir", he still managed to spoke in an enchanting elegance.

"Yeah, yeah.. I get it, your ignorance is obvious Shakespeare" I chuckled.

"Mocking a sir doest not maketh one wiser. Moreover, soon I shalt conquer thy words too.," he said rising up with the bottle.

"Ok calm down, I did not come here to fight over words" Other figure said.

" telleth me thy purpose for the visit son"

"Well I had a question to ask you" Other figure said and was hungry to ask immediately but Shakspere interrupted.

“‘tis a lovely potion you brought to me, tell 'tis name and then ask what you have in mind "

"Ahhh. It's called Ganne ka Juice; I brought it especially for you. So rare. But as it's you, all my efforts are worth the pain" Other figure was rolling up his sleeves while flattering.

"within this wall of flesh, there is a soul that counts thee its creditor, now asketh my cousin"

"Sorry what?" it was hard to interpret.

"I meant - thank you, now ask my friend" he said and cursed the new generation for their ignorance of language.

"Ok. Your writing and characters are really good. The narration is one of its kinds. Awesome!"
We all know that" the other figure looked around as if he may find someone to assure him of his words, but no one was there.

So he got back and continued, “What I had more in my mind is - You made Romeo. He is this really amazing, romantic lover and girls go mad over him. He is idolized like a demigod. That's what is good for girls, right?

Shakespeare nodded.

"They, the women, have an idea of a lover. But that's the half of the society. What about us - the other half, The Guys? Did you write somebody for us to idolize?"

"Juliet?" He said silently, grabbing and twisting the bottle by both of his hands.

 "No... Juliet is not what we want to idolize. Come on. It's not the kind of romantic partner we would fantasize"

"Heer?"

"Ohh... really? That's what you recommend us? "

"What doth thee wanteth ?" Shakespeare roared.

" I don't know... you wrote the literature, so you should have wrote considering our point of view too" Other figure roared back at him.

"I wast unable to " he said looking down at the bottle.

"How can you be unable? You are 'The Shakespeare'"

"No, very much... I didst tryeth hard. But nothing fruitful ever arose on pap'r"

"Well, your inability made us guys look like jerks. We look for that idol figure in every girl we came across and then fail miserably. Primarily because of our lack of vision. The vision that you shared with girls, but not with us. There is no literature to guide us."

"Art thee blaming me?" with eyebrows up Shakespeare asked.

"Yes, you are the one to be blamed. We want our own idol otherwise we shall keep doing what we did for centuries - wandering the world like Hippies! "

"I can not doth this. Not now not ever"!

"Why you can't"?

"I am married" he whispered.

"So what, don't you have any fantasies left"?

"aye I hast. a lot. That wilt I sayeth" he said, looking down, stirring bottle in the air and drawing circles.

"Then, tell me. Shoot me with the finest logic of the mightier".

"Well, she wilt pretty and hast this bodacious bosom. must belongeth to a good family nameth. m'reov'r, she will looketh good  if tall. a lady of fine tasteth and und'rstanding. the one who can blossom f'r me liketh a flowereth. a true damsel. "

"Ok, if that what you had in your mind, then why you didn't write about it"

"I nev'r had the humour n'r any need"

"Why"?

"broth'r, I was and I am happy with m're thoughts of mine jointress" Shakespeare had turned calmer with these words and waited for my question as if he already had the answer prepared.

"Ok, is she better than your fantasy"?

"Absolutely”!

"How”?

Shakespeare sucked up the last drop which was trying to save itself at the last corner and then gave the empty bottle back, stood up and went toward his grave. In the middle of all these, he waited and said with a smile, without looking anywhere else but at the same grave which was covered under the grass, beside of which he was sitting - "She was real!"