The danger had passed without permanently harming any of us. However, I was eager to relinquish the responsibility of protecting the pen from those such as myself. Those who desired to create worlds of their imagination and knew not all the ways they could turn wicked. As follows, I was eager to accept any solution that K offered.

However, the one proposed was so absurd that I could not even contemplate following such a path.

"Please tell me it's not one of your crazy plans that will put us in danger?" Rebecca asked the moment K announced that he had a plan.

"I don't think it's crazy at all. It totally makes sense. But you might think it's nuts." K said, grinning like a madman.

"What is it that you suggest we do?" I inquired, attempting to avoid seeing them quarrel.

"We tell them we have the lost work of Shakespeare and the pen with which it was written," K stated as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

"That would be deceit. There are no completed works of Shakespeare that people have not seen," I stated firmly.

I was convinced of that. It was especially emphasized when I researched all that was written about me and my works in the libraries and the infinite space they call the 'internet'.

"Man, you are Shakespeare! You just write down something awesome, and I'll do the rest," K said.

"The rest? I am afraid I do not understand." I stated.

"Well, I know the guy who can age the paper. It'll pass the most rigorous testing without being discovered it wasn't made in your time," K said.

"K, you are talking about forgery. We could all go to jail for that." Marisol said sternly.

"But is it? If it truly is a work of Shakespeare, written by Shakespeare can it really be called forgery? We'll only make it look older, that's all." K said.

The words I had formerly scribbled ran through my mind at that moment in utter clarity: 'Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying!'

The words fit the situation perfectly. I was tempted to voice them but wished not to insult K even if he might be a sinner.

I believed that, in my own world, deception had not been widely spread. However, in these times, I am not as convinced of the veracity of my claim. I have read too many history books to be able to claim that my time was a time of honor and virtue.

Nevertheless, the mere idea of deceiving those who cherished my work left a bad taste in my mouth. I desired nothing more but to pronounce foul words that would signify my utter disgust at the mere suggestion of being deceitful.

"You know very well that if we are caught in the lie, we'll go to jail. The police would never believe the truth." Rebecca said reasonably.

"We can donate the pen and the manuscript anonymously. That way, we won't be in any danger." K said emphatically.

I was uncertain whether what he was stating was a realistic assessment of the situation or another way to convince us to consider his idea as a satisfactory one. As far as I could assess, Marisol and Rebecca struggled with the very same notions.

We all wanted the pen to be safely locked away somewhere where no one could ever touch it. Nonetheless, we had to consider all our options.

"What about the people in the museum who handle the pen? Won't they be in danger of causing the same disaster that I had almost produced?" I voiced the thought which troubled me the most.

"That's why the museum is so perfect! They won't touch it with their hands." K said, appearing satisfied with himself.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

It was incomprehensible to me how they could secure the pen without their hands contacting its surface. If I had not been explained multiple times that magic had not suddenly appeared in the world, I would have assumed it was through dark magic that they could accomplish that. As it was, I was lost for ideas.

Since I believed that the well of my imagination was bottomless, it was a terrifying thought to contemplate.

I could not help but wonder if everything that had occurred had somehow injured my brain, disabled my ability to imagine. It was my deepest fear since that would have been worse than death for me.

In death, there is peace. In life void of imagination, there is no joy. There is only pain.

"What K is trying to say is that when dealing with artifacts, old or valuable things, the staff have to be very careful. They usually have to wear gloves or some other protective equipment to avoid damaging the objects." Marisol explained concisely.

"I see. Still, I do not wish to perform any action that could be construed as fraudulent. It is not the right way to live one's life," I stated.

"Shawn, you're overreacting as always. The only thing that will be false is the color of the paper. That's all." K said.

I contemplated his words attempting to discover the path that led to righteousness. I wished not to be the same person I was before arriving here. However, I was not assured that I could provide any other solution to our particular problem.

"Do you have any play ideas that you planned to write but didn't get around to doing it?" Rebecca said, attempting to assist me in my struggles.

"In fact, I do possess a few ideas that I never got the chance to write down. However, would not that still be immoral?" I inquired.

"Well, if they were conceived when you were Shakespeare and written by that part of you, I don't see why it would be perceived as a lie by anyone, even yourself. You will be finishing what you started and, in the process, guard the world against the dangers that the pen is hiding." Rebecca said.

There was truth to her words. Though I did not wish to complete what they asked of me, I realized that it was a sacrifice I had to take, a penance. It was one way for me to pay for my sins, for being extremely proud.

Mayhap that way, I could purge my soul from all the less noble urges and therefore prove myself a better person for Marisol. After everything my dear wife had gone through because of me, she deserved that much.

"Very well, I accept. We will do as you suggest. Furthermore, that will be the last time Shakespeare arises from his slumber. After I fulfill this quest, I am determined to bury him once and for all." I said.

"You don't have to do that. The good thing about this world is that you can choose who you want to be, and that can be more than one person." Marisol said as she finished caring for K's injuries and started looking at mine.

"I am aware, my lady. However, I believe that there is no place for someone as narrow-minded and selfish as Shakespeare in this world of acceptance and equality. It is time for him to be put to rest." I said.

"If that is what you truly wish..." she said.

Subsequently she proceeded to tend to my bruises while K vacated the room in a hurry.

"Here, dude, use my laptop to write whatever it is you need to write. We don't want another pen incident." K said, placing the 'laptop' next to me.

"K, can't you see that he is hurt? He needs some rest. We all do. This can wait till tomorrow. Besides, I am sure that he is more likely to write a play worthy of Shakespeare if he is well-rested and healed." Marisol said.

Her tone of voice was defensive, and it was nice seeing her so fierce, seeing that she cared that much about my well-being. Since we had not possessed the time to discuss our situation, I worried that perhaps she would not be as accepting of...me, my love for her.

"Fine, but the sooner we get this over with, the better," K said, leaving.