Well, it was time to write another fanfic. I took out my little spinner that marks every letter of the alphabet. I spun. It came up on "A." There aren't too many things I like that begin with A that I could write a fanfic about. Mostly, they begin with F and M, so I was stuck. Fortunately, "As Told By Ginger" was among the list items. So, enjoy this story and many others of my own in the Calvin and Hobbes and Stephen King areas as well. Enjoy…or else. If you don't R&R, I'll cry. Beware.

DISCLAIMER: I own the sky…I own the world…I own the wind that ruffles your hair in the crisp autumn air…but Lord, I sure don't own ATBG.

Also, a warning. I can copy Stephen King's style down the exact detail, so don't think this is going to be a mild supernatural story. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Why did I write this again? I can't remember…might have been bored, might have been stoned…I forget.

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"Whahell?"

She wasn't sure if it was her or not. It was hoarse and whispery, and the room seemed to be swimming. If it was her, she sounded so far off. She seemed to be talking in a dream.

"Oh my God, she's finally awake." she heard as her vision sharpened. This was also in her dream-hearing, that faint underwater sound. The room around her seemed to grow sharper and objects floated into place, pulling itself together into a room.

Before her was a large face with curled orange hair fluffing in a tight bundle on her head. She still couldn't see sharply, but she noticed that whoever this was, she had been crying a great deal.

Next to her was a smaller person, looked to be a boy. From the orangish hair and the oversized nose, she concluded that whoever they were, they were related, maybe even mother-son. He hadn't been crying as much as the motherly figure, but his eyes seemed to gleam with condensation in the bright fluorescent lights.

A thought came into her head as her mind grew with resolution as well. They're your family.

Ginger tried to sit upright, and only white hot pain seared through her arms. She uttered a single cry, a small one barely heard. The boy on the right side of her bed, the "son," grimaced slightly at the sight of Ginger trying to get back up.

She sighed and collapsed back onto the bed. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't her bed. It was all too…white. Just plain white, like vanilla in a blank room, or maybe in a…

"Hospital room…" she groaned as she realized her surroundings. Another groan escaped her lips as the woman (another thought popped into her head. That's your mom) crouched forward to try to help Ginger up.

"Are…are you alright, Ginge?" her mom asked. The boy next to her (her brother, apparently. She could just barely figure out the name. Kevin or Calvin or something) leaned forward as well, despite the fact that something was obviously creeping him out.

"Let her rest, Mom." said

(Carl)

the boy. "She just went through something horrible."

"Something horrible we don't know." cried the mother and tucked her head into her arms and started to cry again. The boy nodded sympathetically, then motioned back to Ginger.

"What did happen?" Ginger sighed mentally. How the hell was she supposed to know? She at first didn't even know who her own family members were. All she could remember was that it had to be something big to have put her in the hospital to the point where she couldn't move.

She didn't even know how bad it was. Was it something minor or was it

(paralysis)

something serious? "H-how bad is it?" she managed to choke out. Her mother suddenly began to sob worse and her brother even uttered a gasp.

"Well, sis…y-you got a big gash running up the side of your stomach, across your chest, and up to your neck, where it just barely stopped…you got a big cut on your forehead…your right leg was broken in two places. It should all be healed up within six months, although you might have a couple of scars…"

The boy swallowed something fierce and shifted uneasily in his chair, as if he was hiding something he didn't want to say, but he wanted Ginger to find out…

"W-what else?" The boy uttered a tiny sob, barely audible, then spoke. "It's about Macie and Dodie."

Who?

"Macie has been cut up real bad, but is expected to be okay in a few weeks…Dodie…oh God, don't make me say this…Dodie is…gone. Dodie is dead."

It all came back, all the memory banks suddenly opened the doors and let the dams burst. All the memory came swarming back up the river and into her mind. It was too much. Dodie and Macie, best friends. Dodie…dead. Ginger hurt. Brother named Carl, mother named Lois. Ginger uttered a cry of pain as the information suddenly hit her hard.

Carl hung his head low, as if a spy being interrogated for information. As if he had just let down Macie and the soul of Dodie for telling.

Fat, warm tears began to fall from Ginger's eyes as she suddenly realized the overwhelming information.

"It's o-okay sis. It'll be alright…" he tried to console, but was not any good at it.

Ginger lifted her right arm with difficulty, with the white hot pain from before, and wiped the stinging tears from her eyes. She sniffed once and, as Carl would later note, that was it. It was all over. The emotion, the remorse, the sympathy. It all seemed to just have been flushed from her system and onto the hospital bedpan.

"I-I remember. I remember it all. I know what happened." Her mother looked up, confused. Her eye shadow made a leaky trail down her face. Carl had also perked up.

"I remember how Macie and I ended up in the hospital and Dodie was killed…how she was murdered."