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home > articles > Part 2: My Beginnings, By the Ghost Hunter
Time and time again before my birth into death I had been told my attention span is the equivalent to a child at the height of terrible twos. Keep in mind that I was only ten at the time this was noticed by the "elders" around me, but my parents, teachers, friends, and family all expected more. To their complete horror, my attention would be reduced to nothing once the voices started. I remember like it was yesterday. The sun shining, the birds singing and the grass was just starting to go green again after a long, arduous winter. I was walking to school, a habit gained when my parents lost their car to the repo-man about a year ago. Those financial details will remain locked up inside my noisy head until the day I die, this I assure you.
He muttered words that I believe were, "How ya doin' punk?" This done between exhausted breaths and said in an almost unrecognizable but usual tainting manner that sounded a bit like, "Hosh's a donut plunk?" Just then I hear his exhausted steps speed up (an action only taken by him if he was "forced" to cause problems, because he's fat). My brain registered necessary fear levels a little too late as his foot came out in front of mine. The ground sped towards my face, revealing the travels of a little snail that was about to meet its end at the tip of my nose. Everything went black. I remember feeling the empty spot were my front teeth used to be with my tongue. Warm liquid rushed down my throat, and even though I couldn't taste it I knew it was blood. Nothing was visible to me except the blue sky. Not the paramedics that I could hear rushing around me, not my mother screaming for this to be careful or any of my friends who had seen the whole event from the playground. I would be unconscious for over half a day (details given to me by my best friend Buddy later on (also an assumed name). At the end what would be my very last quiet sleep, the "noise" acted as my alarm clock, waking me up into a world I'd sooner leave. I remember the first conversation very clearly, as it would be the last to be completely understandable. There were two men, one named Bob and the other John. It they were arguing about what seemed to be a house or some land. The insults were so great that I couldn't make out anything else, but I learned some new swear words. List of words: Ensign bearing -
meaning a drunkard Bob stopped yelling at John in mid-sentence. This confused me since I think he was about to insult John again. My confusion subsided almost immediately. "Sounds like someone's out back", John said. "Sounds as if the dogs are disturbed." A dog was barking from somewhere around me in the physical world (this could have been outside the hospital window, I was pretty out of it at this point). The air around me suddenly became thick. I felt a force grab a hold of my shoulders and lift me up on my feet. There I was propped straight up on the bed like a marionette doll. A gun shot rant out in my head and I felt an invisible punch hit squarely into my stomach. The force of this punch knocked me back down onto the bed. I blacked out to the sound of loud cheering in a distinct country drawl that could only have been Bob and John. That's it, my "beautiful" introduction into the spirit world. There were no brilliant lights, no angels singing, no hardy handshakes from my ancestors, and no welcome card from God, only one shotgun blast to the belly from two yokels. (Note from HH: **
graphic of Fred Flintstone and the Great Gazoo provided by TGH |
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Anyways,
birds, bees and grass. I was about five minutes away from the playground
when I heard some familiar footsteps approaching behind me. I will remember
the loud and clopping sounds of what could have been Bigfoot with boots,
but was only the breathy steps of Fatass Bully (an assumed name chosen
by me).