I blame my ghost story on a dog named Hootie.
After the accident, I had no pain, but thought I might die. I wasnít scared, and some odd things seemed pretty cool. Like, Iíd catch glimpses of sky in a lime-green color like my favorite popsicle.
Sure every once in a while Iíd hear my mother scream, but not get the words.
Her grief didnít penetrate the shock egg. Okay, itís not an egg like one youíd eat, but more like being inside a blister. I heard pretty music and it released... Read More →