Chapter 1

       Some people are scared to live.  I'm not talking about getting out and doing dangerous things, I'm saying some people are actually scared to live; they would rather be dead than live life on a day to day basis.  I know this because I am one of those people.  I welcome death, I pray for death but it eludes me.  Think about it, in life, you have just one ultimate thing that faces everybody and that's death.  Death is no respecter of the person it's after holding no regard to race, religion, or age.

        I welcome death, the thought of what comes after death is what intrigues me.  Is there really a life after death, if so is it a better live or should I say after-life?  Or when we die does our soul just simply lay there in our rotting corps never to be bothered again?

        I know there is something other than this life.  I have seen way too many things to cause me to believe anything other than that.  I have seen things from another plane of existence that would make old men die of fright and make the strongest man in the world piss himself, things that normal people can't see.  Not knowing if I see things that have happened in the past or things that are yet to come. But one thing is certain; the things that I have seen are real.  And the more I see, the more I believe these things are from a different dimension, that of the spirit world.

        It all started when I was very young.  I was six years old, and my mother and I was on our way to church.  As we were crossing the railroad tracks the car stalled out.  While we sat there trying to get the car started we heard the faint sound of the train whistle blowing.  So my mother and I got out of the car and stood away from it.  There was no way that we could push the car off of the tracks, and mom didn't want us to get hurt.  So all we could do was watch as our car got destroyed.  As the sound of the train got louder, I could feel the rumble of the tracks. I remembered my mom didn't grab her bible, I knew that she would have been very upset if she lost that, it was the last thing that my dad had bought her before he got shipped off to the war.  So as my mother was talking to another lady that also lost her husband to the war, I ran to the car hoping that I could get it and get back before the train struck the car.  I got the bible, and just as I got away from the car the train slammed right into the side causing the car to explode on impact.  The force of the explosion threw me forward, forcing me to gash my head upon a rock.  One of the pieces of scrap metal flying through the air hit me and embedded itself in the back of my head.  The ambulance rushed me to the hospital.  While we were on our way to the hospital I died three times, and when we arrived I was dead and had been dead for about four minutes.  Desperately trying to revive me, the doctors were just about to give up when as if touched by an angel my heart started beating and I started breathing on my own.  After spending one year, three months, and sixteen days in a coma, I finally woke up.  Unable to move, I cried, I looked around and couldn't see anybody, I couldn't see my mother, nurses, doctors, or other patients.  Maybe an hour went by and a nurse finally came into the room.  Shocked with excitement that I had awaken, she franticly ran out of the room and called for the doctors.  Within a matter of minutes I had a room full of people, but none of them gave me time to answer any of their questions.

        Through all the commotion all I could even begin to think about is where my mother was.  Why haven't anybody notified my mother? I screamed out loud, "Where is my mom?"  The room got real quiet, so quiet that you could hear the newborn baby down the hall crying.  The main doctor had the room cleared and just as quickly as the room had filled up, it had emptied out.  The doctor sat down on my bed, "John," he said, " I'm sorry to inform you that when the train hit your car it had gotten derailed and one of the rail cars landed on your mother, we tried everything that we could do to save her, I am truly sorry.  Is there anybody that you know of that will be able to take care of you?  We have been unable to contact any relative."  And while he was telling me I noticed behind him a figure had walked by, and stood at my bedside.  I asked the doctor to leave the room.

        "I know you're there. I saw you standing by my bed.  If you can talk to me please do so?" I waited for a few seconds and I felt this strange sensation as if someone was moving my hair.  The softness of the touch led me to believe that it was the spirit of my mother.  But I felt as if there was someone else there with her.  Still being weak from just coming out of the coma, I really couldn't move around to see so I asked if they could reveal themselves to me.  As I looked at the side of my bed I saw my mom clear as ay, and a man was standing with her.  I vaguely remember seeing pictures of my dad, and I believe that it may be him standing with her.  I never met my dad; he left for the war before I was born.  So I really have no memories of him.  Mom had put the pictures of him up when I was very young, it was too painful for her to see them and not be able to have him with her, or to have him here to be a father for me.

        Not really being able to talk to them I called for the doctor to come back into the room.  "Hey doctor, I have noticed that I can't move, is there any reason for me not to be able to move?" He said "Sure, John, I have the best answer for you that I could possibly have. I already know the reasoning for you to not be able to move. At the time of t accident when that piece of metal hit the back of your head it severed the cerebral cortex leaving you paralyzed from your neck down.  Fortunately the cut was so clean that we were able to repair the damage that was done. And you are not paralyzed. You are just unable to move for the simple fact that you have been the coma for so long that you have no strength.  We will have to put you through physical therapy. You will need to learn to walk again, we have a lot of work ahead of us if we are going to be able to get you back outside playing with your friends the way that you used to."

        One year of intense therapy, so intense that most of the time I felt like giving up.  The pain and agony of not being able to do anything on my own, always having someone help me to the bathroom, never having any privacy, and not being able to eat the foods that I desperately desire, such as McDonald's and Taco Bell.  The only food that they feed me is food high in nutritional value. I am so sick of all this health food s**t it isn't funny.  They tell me that if I eat the right foods that it will make me strong and healthy and that it would help my therapy go smoother.

        It's been a whole year and is still a struggle for me to get out of bed on my own.  And throughout this year I still see those two spirits, everyday, and at night when I am going to sleep I hear the sound of the song "I'll Fly Away." My mother would always sing that song, it didn't matter if it was in the morning or late at night, it was her favorite song. It seemed to me that she knew that her time was almost up.  She only sung the first verse and the chorus, "Just a few more weary days and then I'll fly away, when I die hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away." It was almost as if she was praying for death.  She obviously sang for it.

        I am getting around much better now, I'm able to pretty much do what I want, and it's about damn time, hell I've been in this therapy for two years now. They are still picky about what I eat. But they're being more reasonable about it.  We started something new this week.  They brought in a teacher, for me to be able to continue my school work.  I was in the first grade at the time of the accident, and now I'm three and a half years behind.  But within this first week I have tested and tested and it seems to me that I'm picking up rather quickly.  This past week I've done a half of years school work, and I love it.  I want to learn more. I can't wait until the weekend is over so that the teacher can come back with more material for me to learn.  I only wish that she would bring me more challenging things.  The things that she brought me last week was so easy that I had them done in no time.  I hope that she brings me some more books.  I loved reading the ones she brought me.  I overheard the doctor talking with Mrs. Brownstone, and she told him that she has never seen a child go through this work with so much finesse.  That she would like to do an intelligence quotient test.  She thinks that I might be able to test real high, and be permitted to go to St. John's School For Gifted Children.

       Well it's Monday morning, I couldn't sleep with the anticipation of Mrs. Brownstone bringing me more study material.  When she finally arrived, I saw a different look in her eye.  I knew something was bothering her.  "Mrs. Brownstone, are you alright?"  I asked.  "Yes dear, nothing that you need to worry yourself over, so let us begin our work for today."  She handed me the intelligence quotient test and I began to work. In a total of seven minutes and thirty-two seconds, I was finished.  She took my test and graded it with her book, and to her surprise I didn't miss any questions on the test.  Not realizing that the test she gave me was rated for an adult she took the results to my doctor.  And as he looked I heard him say, "Is this possible, I had just taken this same test two weeks ago? Isn't there a different test that they give for children, or did I receive the wrong test?"  Mrs. Brownstone quickly took the test and looked at it again, as she stood in awe; she looked over through the window at me, and smiled. "Doctor, never in my life as a teacher, or as a psychologist have I seen someone pass this test with a perfect score.  There is something special about this boy.  I must take him with me to the school as soon as possible.  We have so much tests that we need to run, just to see how intelligent this child really is."  I walked out into the hall while she was still talking and I spoke to her, "Mrs. Brownstone, when you first arrived I asked you if you were ok.  You told me not to worry about it that you will be fine.  But even though I have seen the excitement in your face, that excitement was only because of the score that I just received on that text, what really is bothering you is the fact that when you got home Friday you found that your husband had been seeing another woman and had left you while you was at work."  She began to cry.  The doctor stood back, in shock, not knowing how I knew that, I felt as if what I said made them both scared of me. 

        I have no clue how I knew that stuff.  I'm only nine years old.  That wasn't the only thing that I was able to do as the doctor soon found out.  They was running some more test on me, this time having me hooked up to a bunch of wires running from my head.  All I did was what they asked me to do.  They tried to have me to move this twenty pound sledge hammer without touching it with my hands.  So I did. I walked over and I moved it with my feet.  They started getting mad, "No John, that's not what we meant.  We want you to move the sledge hammer without moving from your chair.  We want you to move it with your mind." I sat there, and I sat there, and it seemed to me that they were crazy.  And so I asked them to do it.  That just made them really mad at me. "JOHN, all we want is for you to concentrate on that sledge hammer, and where you want it to be." "OK, DOC. I will try but you know that this kind of stuff is stupid. It's not real. I think you have watched too many movies." So I sat there, mad, and I tried to do what they wanted me to do.  But the only place that I wanted the sledge hammer to be was through that window.  So I walked over and picked up the hammer and I talked to it.  They want me to try to do crazy things so I'm going to act a little crazy.  After I asked t hammer to go through the window, I sat back down in my chair and I watched the hammer so hard that I could see nothing else but the hammer, I didn't hear anything, not even the radio that was playing through the intercom system.  Then all of the sudden the hammer fell over and started flying through the air and smashed the window. I couldn't believe I just did that.  

        The next day was worse.  They had more and more things that they wanted me to do.  They held up a bunch of cards and asked me to tell them what was on the other side without even looking at it.  They couldn't believe that I had every one of the cards right.  But they weren't very smart themselves. The man that gave the test to me wore glasses and I just looked at the reflection off of the lens.  After they all stood in amazement that I had every one of them correct, I laughed at them, and told them how stupid they were.  So they told me that they was going to do the test again but this time they was going to be in a different room.  I couldn't see the cards this time, so I sat there and pictured it in my head, and when they asked me through the speakers I replied.  I didn't really do anything different, I just said what I saw in my head and I had every one of the cards right.

        After that test was done, they had a priest come into my room.  I didn't like that man.  I stood up and walked out of the room before he hurt me.  When he walked in the room it was as if someone had thrown me into a freezer.  And it only got worse the closer he got to me.  After I closed the door behind me, the doctor met me out in the hall. "John, what's wrong? I've never seen you walk out from anybody like that."  "Doc; that man can wear that priest outfit all he wants, but it doesn't change his heart.  That man is as evil as the devil himself."  I replied.  "How do you figure, John?" "When that man walked into the room, I seen some things, horrible things that he has done to children, men and women.  He touched them in places that he shouldn't touch, and if they gave any problems to him he would beat them with a metal cross that he has on his bedroom wall until their blood was flowing from their head and the life drifted from their bodies.  He didn't care how old or how young the person was.  He found satisfaction in killing them, and he thinks that he can get by with it in the name of his god.  I do not want to be in the same room with him again, I don't even want him to ever come back to this hospital."

        "Ok, John, we won't let him around you again, I believe that you really saw those things.  But are you willing to try to put a stop to him from hurting more people?  Would you be willing to go back into the room with him for just a few more minutes and maybe you can see where he had buried the bodies of those that he had killed.  And maybe be able to see how we can prove that he did those things and be able to get the proof?" "Doc, if you can get me a personal possession of his I can give you all the information that you want.  He wears a silver cross necklace under his shirt and collar, I seen it with him in every person that he killed, I can use it and we can stop him like that but I will not go back in that room until he is gone." "Sure, John, I'll see if he would let me see that for a few minutes.  I promise that I will not let him know anything that you have told me."

        A couple of minutes went by and the doctor finally came out of the room, handed me the necklace and I told him everything that I saw.  After I was done the doctor had called his brother.  His Brother was a FBI Special Agent that dealt with supernatural occurrences.  Approximately twenty minutes went by and Special Agent James and his partner had arrived and I told them where the priest lived, and told them where he had buried the bodies.  And so they asked the priest about what I had said.  He acted very nervous, and made an excuse for him to leave.  When he left the agents followed him.  It had scared the priest so bad that he went home and started to pack up his things.  One of the agents went to where the bodies were buried, and the bodies was there.  The doctors' brother went to the door. The priest was so scared that he took off out the back door, tripped down the steps and broke his neck as he fell over the banister that blocked a forty foot drop straight down into a shallow pond.  The good thing is that when his neck broke it didn't kill him, so that he can pay for the crimes he has done.

        After the crime scene investigators went through the house, they found pictures of all his victims, some of their belongings, and they uncovered all two hundred sixty three bodies that had been buried by the priest.

Reviews

[BoyKitsch]

I was compelled to read. I would just point out that the POV changes a lot when the character wakes up out of his coma. Look forwards to reading chapter 2. :)