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