"Waaaaaaaaaah," the squeals were getting closer. He could hear him, Horace. It was only a few hours after that dreadful birth, and she was gone forever. James (Horace's father) knew that this deformed child would never be able to live a true life with his mother gone and only a father, who could already feel the shame burn inside of him.
He could hear the cry's getting stronger they grew with each step. He turned and peered into a few beaten cars with open doors, hoods, and broken windows. Nothing, there was nothing there yet the cries were screaming in his ear, tearing at him. "Where is that damn baby?" He thought to himself. After hours of this crap he decided to give up. He saw, what was about 20 feet in front of him, a green 1951 tireless Beetle. The Beetle was mostly intact but had never appealed much to him until now.
He decided that kid was better off dead. He wouldn't be made fun for his deformity, or his corrupted family, and all the other worries this damned world has to offer. He himself wouldn't have to worry about the shame and worries either. He knew it was cruel of him to give up so easily, but after he was born his own wife turned away crying after she saw Horace's face. After she saw his son's face his own life was ruined. There was nothing left no one was left.
The birth was at their little trailer since Cheryl (Horace's mom) wanted to have their first child at home. She never liked all that doctor's equipment, she said "It makes me feel ignorant and scared especially when they talk about you with letters and numbers. To me it's nothing but I guess it means something to them."
He thought about her sweet voice it was southern and he could listen to her talk for eternity. She was beautiful, and he thought he didn't look so bad either. So what in God's name was wrong with that child. No one could explain. When Eli, the doctor/priest, delivered him he looked away with disgust. He basically walked out of the house mumbling something. He was about to follow him when the scream came from the bedroom.
She screamed she yelled and said she would never have anything do with him. She wouldn't even name him. Poor Horace, the old lady who came with the nurse had named him. Horace was a horrible name. She said in a sweet, faint voice "That was my grandfather's name. He was a good man. A very good man." He asked himself how old she was to not be able to see the evil in front of her as she held him humming some lullaby while the nurse cared to his wife.
He sat down leaning on the Beetle near the driver's door. The crying stopped and he thought, "Might as well get the death certificate lined up. Maybe she would hear and come running back to me. Maybe she would say lets forget and move on and she'll tell me everyday how much she loves me," He thought aloud.
He ran into the room, she was lying the middle some blood stained sheets crying. He didn't dare look at that kid. He looked only to his sobbing wife. After he was named and it looked like everyone was calm they left giving words of reassurance and open arms to any problem. He told her he was going to take a shower and then they would talk. When he got out there was no noise just nothing, no one. He ran after her, breathlessly following her muddy footprints when he saw that she had climbed the fence. There lay a stretch of about five miles of pasture, but all he could was that no one was there just the rain coming down softly, nothing.
He thought this all through while leaning on the Beetle. He decided to move on that baby was dead out in the cold rain nothing could be done.
As he was about to get up there was a silver object hooked to a jagged edge on the Beetle. It was his wife's necklace. He immediately threw himself down on his stomach and saw a sleeping, pale baby wrapped in a white dishtowel. There he was a grotesque, yet beautiful baby. Horace's face was covered with mud and he was shivering furiously. James carefully took off his coat and wrapped Horace in it.
As soon as he got home he put Horace in the white crib they had bought three months ago at some nice baby store. He gently layed Horace in and decided that through this entire nothing there was something after all. Something sick, and well different.
I do not own any of the thirteen ghosts characters this is just my version of the story.