The Tempest
I had to wake up early today because of the door-bell ringing furiously. I couldn’t find my goodwill towards the person ringing but the only thing I could do was to open. It was about 5 am. A queer person stood on my doormat dressed in grey tights , strangely looking pants as if pumped up ; short, embroidered old fashioned jacked and something round the neck, as if renaissance ruff – yes! – that was the ruff itself! And over the ruff was the face I’ve known well, because it was well-known face belonging to William Shakespeare himself. Willy had visited my humble apartment in Poland at 5 am! My consciousness was denigrated immediately when I saw his silhouette – I felt very ill.
- Hi! – Said Will entering my home – Shall I compare you…
- Go out! – I ordered bitterly looking at this ghost. The only I understood was I would deal with a ghost.
- Where the kindness of the people is! – asked William philosophically – have you got any chair.
- What? – I asked completely astonished
- You are looking like astonished – he claimed briefly– I want you to give me the Chair. That’s the piece of furniture, it was made of wood when I lived in England.
- I know what ‘chair’ is – I undertook the effort of the logically sounding answer.
- Oh, really? – William asked surprised – So give me it, for God’s sake. I am tired and I need to rest a little.
I went back to the room where I was sleeping soundly in it a few moments ago and brought the chair for William which I put in the hall next to the English poet standing stiffly.
- Here you are.- I said foolishly.
- You’re welcome! – answered William and sat with visible relief. I was standing next to him for a moment but being aware, how stupidly it must look like, I brought the second chair from adjacent room, put it and sat too.
We were too men sitting ii the hall without a word for a moment. My grief seemed to be limitless – I was sure that I must have gone mad by chance when I was sleeping. I was sure that I was alone in the hall of my apartment – one of very many ones in the average block of flats. The only I could do under that severe attack of my expected madness was to go along that .
- Well – William Shakespeare yawned furtively, looking at me – are we going to sit here without any word? Without even any glass of tea? Without any food – You should know I am hungry a little for I arrived for afar.
- Oh, I’m so sorry! – I tried to apologise and suddenly I got angry. – What are you looking for over here? Why did you visit just me? What the hell do you expect me to do for you?
Shakespeare looked at me with laconic glance.
- Are you sure I am here at all? – he asked calmly.
- I think you are the product of my worn mind. – Answered I quite sincerely.
- Am I not too precisely visible in details of my clothes to be a mind’s product? – asked he again
I stood up quickly, made an unexplained gesture and sat once again feeling the loss of the rest of my hope.
-So, who are you? – I dared to ask painfully.
- I am a ghost.
- Can the ghost be tired, hungry or thirsty? – I bowed my head and hid it with my palms.
- Even the ghosts need a little of matter to be visible. – Shakespeare said – So I am hungry, tired and so on.
- Why did you appeared at my home? – My next question sounded harshly.
Shakespeare burst out laughing .
- You invited me! Didn’t you?
- I am not aware of any of my invitations.
Shakespeare puffed loudly and leant against my hall-wardrobe. He seemed to be tired to pretty large extent.
- What did you do yesterday about 1.pm – he questioned
- I don’t remember. I haven’t even a watch to control the time. – I answered
- So let me remind you what you did. You entered the bookshop and bought a book. That has been the book with the play by me entitled ‘The Tempest”. Am I right?
Surprisingly he was right – situation looked like that then, indeed! I bought a very good edition of the one of the most famous Shakespeare’s plays and was happy because it wasn’t very expensive.
- Yes…You are right… - I admitted pronouncing words slowly
- Buying the book which became a kind of your soul’s mirror you have waken me up from my eternal dream. What did you want to achieve buying the book?
- Telling the truth I have wanted to meet you ever – I spoke out the words surprised more and more by what I was telling about – And to meet the literature and art as well.
- And so I am! – Willy exclaimed theatrically and joyous! At the same moment the door-bell started ringing again. I got up and opened the door. Out of the threshold the gigantic handbook of literature was standing and the sculpture of David made by Michelangelo Buonarotti was walking stately behind it holding ‘Sunflowers’ by Van Gogh under it’s arm. I suddenly lost my consciousness…..
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