By the time I make it to the main square and the fountain, I’m listening to Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran and the smile is still on my lips. So far all the songs have been of my liking, even those I’ve never heard before and the butterflies in my stomach have never leave either. I never thought I would get butterflies but here they are, fluttering and making me all giddy.

The main square is quite busy, people wandering or having a stroll, some of them jogging at this time, even with their dogs and it’s quite nice. It’s almost dark and the lights are on already and it looks really agreeable. I wonder who’ll come up to give me the last letter.

As I wait, I amuse myself by looking at all the passer-by people whilst the playlist carries on at the same time that H listens to it. The next song that comes is Hold You by Nina Nesbitt featuring Kodaline. I know because I look at the title on the MP3 player screen. I like the combination of voices and the rhythm, it is soothing and longing at the same time.

I’m getting into the song so I don’t notice a change in the scenery at first until more people are staring in confusion at the person pretending to dig a grave in the middle of the square, right in front of me, just two metres away, and then other two men talking to him. I pull down the headphones to listen to what is happening. One of the men is questioning the gravedigger.

“Whose was it?” he asks. He is tall and skinny and near thirty, with black hair and tan complexion.

“A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?” the gravedigger replies.

“Nay, I know not,” replies the man and I’m sent off by their speech. It’s not only loud as for everyone to hear, but the language used is clearly something you find in a Shakespeare play.

“A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.”

“This?” the man questions further.

“E'en that,” confirms the gravedigger.

“Let me see.” The man then approaches even more and grabs the skull. “Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio:” he tells the other man, Horatio apparently. “A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.”

“What's that, my lord?” Horatio asks and I’m too dumbfounded by what’s happening to react and put the pieces together.

“Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth?”

“E'en so,” Horatio replies.

“And smelt so? pah!” the man exclaims putting down the skull with a funny grimace. The audience laughs and so do I, yet still taken aback for how familiar this scene is.

“E'en so, my lord.”

“To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole?”

Horatio replies, “'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.”

To what the man continues, “No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel? Imperious Caesar, dead and turn’d to clay, might stop a hole to keep the wind away; O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw! But soft” but soft! Aside: here comes the king.” They start to retreat with the other. His speech is unusual and all the people around have noticed this. They have moved aside, forming a circle around the people there, but from within them a small procession approaches the centre, where the other man was digging the grave, with what looks like a corpse wrapped in white sheets. The man who was speaking continues. “The queen, the courtiers: who is this they follow? And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken the corse they follow did with desperate hand Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate. Couch we awhile, and mark.” Now the two men are hiding but still on sight for the people watching, me included.

This sounds and looks too familiar and I have it on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t figure it out!

“What ceremony else?” one of the men that walked in asks. He’s probably mid thirties and dresses too formal.

“That is Laertes, a very noble youth: mark,” the man who was speaking before says and my eyes widen in recognition.

I know it now! I know why it all looked so familiar, why his speech seemed off and why everyone is watching them like they were watching a play. They are acting indeed and not just any play, they are acting Hamlet! And this is act V, I’m sure of it! When Hamlet discovers that Ophelia is dead.

“What ceremony else?” Laertes inquires again and I stand up, getting even closer although this is happening right in front of me, almost as it were for me. I’ve never seen something like this, a play taking place out of the blue, without a stage and previous notice. Almost like a flash mob!

Who I assume is the priest says, “Her obsequies have been as far enlarged As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful; And, but that great command o'ersways the order, she should in ground unsanctified have lodged till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers, shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her; yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, her maiden strewments and the bringing home of bell and burial.”

Then Laertes asks, “Must there no more be done?”

At what the priest replies, “No more be done: we should profane the service of the dead to sing a requiem and such rest to her as to peace-parted souls.”

I cover my mouth to muffle the excited giggles that want to escape. I can’t believe I’m witnessing this!

“Lay her i' the earth: and from her fair and unpolluted flesh may violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, a ministering angel shall my sister be, when thou liest howling,” Laertes laments and I turn to look at Hamlet immediately, because it’s obvious the man who was speaking first is playing the prince of Denmark.

“What, the fair Ophelia!” he exclaims loud enough for all of us to hear but not for the characters burying Ophelia.

Then Queen Gertrude speaks whilst scattering flowers, “Sweets to the sweet: farewell! I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, And not have strew'd thy grave.”

“O, treble woe fall ten times treble on that cursed head, whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile, till I have caught her once more in mine arms:” Laertes cries and jumps into the made grave to grab the corpse in his arms. “Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, till of this flat a mountain you have made, to o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head of blue Olympus.”

Hamlet starts approaching as he says, “What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? Whose phrase of sorrow conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane,” he ends up exclaiming as he jumps into the grave as well and I can barely hold my excitement.

“The devil take thy soul!” Laertes cries out, grappling with Hamlet. The audience gasps in excitement and surprise.

“Thou pray'st not well. I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat; for, though I am not splenitive and rash, yet have I something in me dangerous, which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.”

Chaos breaks as the characters cry in horror for what’s happening and the audience reacts the same way. “Pluck them asunder,” King Claudius demands whilst the queen cries Hamlet’s name.

Horatio calls for Hamlet, too, as the rest of the characters separate the two men in the grave, making them come out. “Good my lord, be quiet.”

“Why I will fight with him upon this theme until my eyelids will no longer wag,” Hamlet cries out trying to set free from Horatio’s grip.

“O my son, what theme?” Queen Gertrude asks, distress clear in her face.

“I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?” Hamlet questions, his voice trembling with pain and sorrow but also anger and I’m fascinated with his acting.

“O, he is mad, Laertes,” King Claudius states, an excuse.

“For love of God, forbear him,” Queen Gertrude pleads.

But Hamlet continues, “'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do: Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself? Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile? I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine? To outface me with leaping in her grave? Be buried quick with her, and so will I: And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw millions of acres on us, till our ground, singeing his pate against the burning zone, make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, I'll rant as well as thou.”

I really love this scene! It’s so passionate and ferocious, filled with despair and heartbreak.

“This is mere madness.” Queen Gertrude exclaims. “And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, when that her golden couplets are disclosed, his silence will sit drooping.”

“Hear you, sir; what is the reason that you use me thus?” Hamlet questions. “I loved you ever: but it is no matter; let Hercules himself do what he may, the cat will mew and dog will have his day.”

And then he is gone, squeezing through the audience that is thicker than when they began.

King Claudius speaks next, begging to Horatio, “I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him.” Horatio nods and follows Hamlet. Then the King turns to Laertes. “Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech; we'll put the matter to the present push. Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. This grave shall have a living monument: an hour of quiet shortly shall we see; till then, in patience our proceeding be.”

And then they all exit marking the end of the scene and once the centre is empty, with the corpse and the skulls as the only evidence of what just happened, the audience erupts in applause. And I join them, clapping like crazy for an amazing and spontaneous performance, something I had never seen before. Hamlet is a very long and amazing play, I’ve seen it live and I’ve also watched David Tennant’s version, but this is completely different. Even if it was just a scene from the whole play.

The actors come back to the centre, squeezing back through the audience to stand on the improvised stage and the applauses are even louder now. They bow and smile at us, they even form a little circle in the middle so no one is giving their back to the audience. We cheer and keep clapping as they keep bowing, moving in circle so we all have a chance to see them.

I can’t wipe out the smile form my lips, I’m so happy I was here to see this happen. I can’t believe my luck! I’ve always loved Shakespeare and being able to see this is so unique. I bet Mila, Moni and Havi will be so jealous when I tell them about it. Oh, I’ll even tell H, I bet he’ll also like to hear about this, considering he’s an actor and he also studied Shakespeare.

My thoughts stop when the whole cast turn to look at me and bow at me. I even stop clapping, taking aback by this. They are really looking at me, because there’s no one next to me. I even point at myself and the one that played Hamlet nods.

And then he approaches me.

I look everywhere panicked, not knowing what to do, my heart beating like crazy. “I hope you like the show. It was especially for you,” he says and I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“W-w-what?” I ask, even more dumbfounded than when I noticed the play taking place in front of me.

He laughs but not in a mocking way. “A friend and colleague asked us to act something for the girl sitting by the fountain with the purple headphones. That is you. Weren’t you sent here by this same person?” he questions and it takes me ten seconds to realise he is talking about H.

Oh my God! H planned this for me, he made these people act Hamlet for me. I can’t believe he did this, not when he didn’t even mention it on the letter.

The actor laughs when he sees my reaction, once again not in a mean way, more like amused. “He also asked me to give you this, saying that it’s the last one. He’s waiting for you.”

I can’t move, I’m too awestruck to react even when I see him holding the envelope—the last envelope!—for me. This unique experience was all his doing, for me, a surprise he planned for me. Oh God, what did I ever do to deserve all this? All his attention? All his kindness?

Hamlet takes my hands and places the envelope in them. “Want to take the picture now?” he questions and that breaks through the mist of my thoughts.

I nod so he calls the other actors as I take the camera and hand it to him. He however asks one of the spectators to take the picture of us and when this is out I can see my expression, which is nothing but surprised.

“We all work with him,” the guy who played Laertes says. “This is one of the plays we did last year. I’m Danny,” he introduces himself and so do the others. Hamlet was played by Raj, Horatio was played by Mathew, Queen Gertrude by Olivia, King Claudius by Sam, the priest by Leon and the first clown by Carl.

“Maca,” Olivia tells me, smiling kindly at me. “Don’t make him wait any longer.”

Only then I remember H is waiting for me, that this is actually the last stop and all what stands between us now is the letter in my hands.

I look up to smile at the actors in front of me. “Thank you so much. You were all amazing. I’ll come back to see a full play, I promise.” They nod with happy smiles. “Thank you.”

And they bow one more time before walking away from me to some other people from the audience that were waiting for them. I’m left alone and my hands are shaking, but I manage to tear the envelope open and take the last piece of paper from inside.

H, I’m almost there.

-:-:-

Oh, come on! You didn't think the playlist was the only thing H prepared for the last stop, did you? He had something big waiting for her. Did you like it? Maca, Mila and I went to see The Globe's Hamlet and it helped to write this, although the scene and the idea had been planned long ago :D I really love this play, don't you? I simply love Shakespeare <3

Dedication to @MargotLaporte

Bel, xx

PS: if you wanna know the full playlist, let me know ;)
PPS: my twitter is @BelWatson if you need to ask me something directly or faster. I can't always reply comments.