Upon finding myself cruelly tricked by capricious fate, I was lost in more ways than one. I was unable to comprehend what wrath had been incurred on me, nor how to overcome my circumstances and thus rise above them as the Great Bard that I was.

I was a man out of my time and place, unfamiliar with the strange age of loud noises and odd contraptions that I had found myself in. Even worse, all I had in this new world of madness were the clothes on my back and the quill in my hand. Even the quill seemed different here, it looked like what I now know to be a pen.

Mind you, I was never a rich man, yet I never felt poorer than in those first few days in what I soon learned to be the future, the future of the great country that I used to consider my own. For you see, I might not have possessed gold or coins of any kind, but at least back then, I had the most important wealth that one man can possess, love of one's family and friends.

I had drank ale with some of the greatest minds I had ever met and spent time reading my new works to my darling wife. I spent my evenings entertaining my children with stories that never had the chance to see the blank pages of a book. My life wasn't abundant in possessions, but it was a joyous existence.

To find myself suddenly all alone and misunderstood was a bigger shock to me than death could have ever been. What was I but a nameless man in the sea of people they refer to as 'homeless'? What made me different than any of them?

Then it came to me on the winds of change, the realization, the knowledge. What made me different was the power that my words could have. Words that they tell me had inspired people for centuries. Why not reconnect with that power in the new world and inspire even more people in the dark times of now?

I will only speak the truth, it wasn't an easy task to go from 'that strange homeless guy who thinks he is Shakespeare', to the renowned writer that I am now, but I still managed to do it.

It took me a few days, well, weeks, to fully comprehend the rules of the new world I found myself in, and I must say the people that are mostly dismissed by others were most helpful to me, the homeless.

Unlike other people who came across me, they were the ones who explained things to me, as if I truly was a person out of his time. They even called me by my name when I told them I was Shakespear.

To be fair, most of them thought I was crazy, but that didn't matter, they made me feel accepted and cared for.

It was as if once again I was blessed with similar treasures as the ones I once possessed, the gold that is friendship. I was not as respected or as loved as back home, but being accepted in such a strange, intimidating world felt more than enough for someone who felt so little after feeling so big.

It was as if I was finally able to see myself for what I truly was, a speck in the tapestry of life to which the rare few paid any attention. Odd as the change was, it was also an awakening for my overgrown ego. It cut it down to a much more comfortable size.

At first, I tried to listen and learn as much as possible, but upon finding so many things that were impossible to comprehend, I started asking so many questions that even the kind people of the streets became vexed by my incessant questioning. That was when I had to hone my deduction skills and procure the knowledge I required using my own devices.

My innate ability to create people with a vast range of different qualities aided me in my quest of discovery and self-discovery as well. Instead of creating new characters for my play, I dissected characters from real life to learn what their driving force was.

Using that knowledge and the natural wit I was born with, I quickly managed to rise above the rank of 'undesirables' and become, once again, a member of society. Mind you, a society strikingly different from the one I was used to, but it still felt good to belong somewhere.

People on the streets might have their freedom, more so than the rest of the world, however, I was so used to the structured way of living, that it came as a relief when my life started following a certain pattern once again.

Not to say that I have to follow very strict rules, however, it gives my days some sense of structure that I did not possess while spending my time with the homeless. With them, it was simpler. We ate when we had food, slept when we felt sleepy. It was our bodies' needs that dictated our schedules. However, having lived my whole life as a playwright, I could no longer live such an open life without going insane.

How was one supposed to write and find one's passion in a world where people were content, although they had next to nothing? I needed pressure, stress, excitement.

Anyways, before I left the ranks of the homeless, I vowed to myself never again to use my true name to avoid being labeled as insane, which I've learned is a difficult label to erase. Thus, with a heavy heart, I decided to leave behind William Shakespeare, to let them believe that the great bard was dead and to embrace my new self, Shawn O'Pear.

As I stated so long ago from your perspective, but so short a while ago for me:

'That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet...'

Although I was doubting my own words, at the time, now I see that changing my name led to changing my destiny. While claiming I was Shakespeare would have led me to a homeless shelter or an asylum, being O'Pear has brought me more than I would have ever guessed. Perhaps it has brought me even more than I was prepared to comprehend or accept.

The tale of Shawn O'Pear's life is a long one and more complex than what you have heard so far. Impossible as it sounds, it is the truth brought to you by the one who was once Shakespeare.

What I should point out is that by deciding to change my name, I did something that I hope you will be able to forgive me one day, I murdered Shakespeare once again. This time, however, he is to remain dead, and his life energy is to be used by the author by the name of Shawn O'Pear.

Unlike Shakespeare, O'Pear's writing focuses on other aspects of writing, not on plays. He is fascinated by the tales of terror and thrillers as modern people refer to them.

I must stop condoning this rather abominable habit of mine of talking about myself in the third person, for now, I am O'Pear, it's deplorable for one of stature such as myself to speak in the third person.

As I was saying, my life has been a long one and more complex than what you might have heard so far. Some things that transpired lack any logical explanation, however, they do seem to be in some way connected with the bard who once was.

Shockingly enough, all the trouble started with one ordinary looking quill which did more than change into a modern pen upon our arrival.