Disclaimer: I am not Darren Shan and therefore do not own Paris Skyle the vampire. I don't own William Shakespeare either.

And I know this is horribly sappy.

Shakespeare's Last Hope

I gazed sadly down at my dying friend. William looked pitiful, pale and weak, giving a small shudder every now and then.

"Oh, William," I sighed, "what will the world do without your plays?"

"They have all of them," the slightly older man mumbled.

I was puzzled. "What about those plays that have not been made famous yet? The ones you have not written down? You have told me about that wonderful comedy, entitled A Midsummer Night's Dream ... That one has not been written down, has it?"

"It has not," was the quiet reply. "But every word of it, every detail is etched across the wall of my brain like ink on a page ... I want you, my good friend, to have them."

I grew even more puzzled. "How can you give me words that have not been written down? Surely you can't tell me the story, William. You are far too weak."

"I know I'm weak," he croaked. "But you know all too well what I am suggesting, Paris. I want you to take the unwritten words and make them a goodbye gift from me ... to the world." He raised a hand and clutched my sleeve. "Take the words while I am still breathing!" he said softly. He was pale and ghostly, a figure composed of white on white. "You have been a true friend ... and you will find a nice surprise awaiting you amongst the words of Romeo And Juliet ... the tale of two star-crossed lovers." A tear ran down his pale, wrinkled face.

I understood what he was saying and, as my eyes grew wet and my vision blurred slightly, I gave him no time to change his mind. I breathed over him. His eyes went blank--merely unconscious, and hopefully not dead yet. I made a small cut in his forearm and, lowering my mouth to the cut, sucked.

"Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name ..."

The lovely young maiden's voice grows distant and soon fades away, to be replaced--merely in my mind, of course--by my dear friend William's, never to be heard again, forever silenced nine years ago on his deathbed. I did what he wanted, and I gave the world his farewell gift--precious works like A Midsummer Night's Dream, Love's Labor's Lost and Romeo And Juliet.

Romeo and Juliet. The two unfortunate lovebirds had met their demise in so tragic a way, as is being acted out in the play of which I am a member of the audience right now. William had been telling the truth when he spoke of a surprise for me hidden amongst the words in the tale of Romeo And Juliet, when the character, Paris, was introduced. He had named a character after no one but I myself, Paris Skyle, the Vampire Prince.

I shall carry his gift with me forever, and so shall the world, in memory of the wizard of words ... William Shakespeare, who had named Paris Skyle his last and only hope.

A/N: Ooo ... bit short, that. :] Never mind. Less is more, I hope. I dunno, you tell me. :D