~Disclaimer~
As much as I wish I owned Thir13en Ghosts (or just Dennis, heh) I don't.
So no one sue me okay? You wouldn't be able to expect much money.
~A/N~ Ah, the sweet blissful mix of writer's block and insomnia...........someone shoot me. Ugh. I have school tomorrow morning! Okay, no more complaining, my bad, your not here to listen to me moan and grumble, your here because you want to see the first chapter of my story, considering you were intrigued by the intro. I won't push it off anymore, here it is, see ya next chapter.
"Life" by a Ghost
Chapter One: Every Story Has A Beginning.
I'm happy to see you. And I'm grateful you've decided to listen to me, I'll admit, as introductions go, mine didn't sound to inviting. But if your ready to listen, listen up. 'Cause here gos.
Actually, my story, like so many others, is expected to start during an epic battle, or a dramatic sequence, or with a note of excitement. But since this is a true story, I'll have to start where it really began. So picture this in your head. Me, as a baby, in a hospital, wearing a diaper. Not very exciting is it? Well, I'm sorry, because that's where my story has its beginnings. And it might not sound very exciting to you, but for the nurses there, I believe it was a very interesting.
I was no more then a few hours old, so there was no way to remember this, but it was told to me by my grandparents so many times, it's hard to believe I didn't see myself do it. I was your ordinary, average looking baby. Bald as hell, and smaller then hell. Actually, I was unusually small, and the doctors were worried that I might not make it. They had to feed me and fix me up themselves, my mother did nothing. That is probably because my mother died a few hours after I was born, hey, I said this story was completely true, but I didn't say it wasn't tragic. But please don't cry for me, when I think about her, it dosen't fill me with grief, because I have never known her,....... of course I've seen pictures, but it's like looking at a complete stranger, because you can't recognize someone you've never seen.
But back to the story. There I was, getting cleaned up and fed by a nurse, while doctors monitored my every move, making sure I would survive to see another bottle, when I suddenly stopped crying, the nurses were overjoyed, one less whining baby for them was one less headache, but the doctors immediatly sprang to attention, fearing the worst, that maybe I was dying, that I wasn't strong enough to live. So one of them picked me up. I instantly started crying again, loudly. The doctor had no idea what was wrong with me, he put me down, wondering if maybe he had picked me up to fast, or to hard maybe. But the second I was laid back down again, I was silent.
The doctors, who every two minutes kept picking me up and putting me down, trying to find out what was wrong with me, were completely and utterly baffled. So for the rest of my stay at the hospital, they avoided even touching me, because even the slightist little brush agains't my skin would set me off again. The doctors figured it to be a phase, maybe I just hated to be touched they thought, and after a while they got my grandparents to take me in, actually, they wanted to, they were crazy about me the second I was born. And the touching thing? It was shrugged off, for a couple years, as, just as the doctors said, a phase. And after a while it subsided a little bit, so that it was only when I was in contact with a person for a little while, and when I was around 3 or 4, I would only push away from a person after they had held on to me for a few minutes, and again, it was thought that I was the kind of person that hated to be touched.
And it was always getting better, and after a while, it stopped completely.........and then I started school, maybe the aggravation started it up again, to many emotions from being the freak in school, so as I was saying, history repeats itself, as it's said, and by my first year in school, it began it to start up again, it seemed the more I was teased by my fellow classmates, the worse it got, I refused to let anyone touch me, the kids thought I was psycho, so when they teased me, it was from a distance. I always tried to get sent home, to my grandmother, and grandfather, who were the only people that every truly loved me at that point. But, it's hard to tell a school nurse you have a headache without them thinking your faking it........
To tell you the truth, I sympathize with any kid that knows what it's like to be picked on or ignored, it's hard, it really is. Being the 'freak' in school isn't exactly a fun experience, especially when the kids don't even know what's wrong with you. So they thought I was a psycho........, funny, huh? I didn't even know that I was psychic when I started school, no one did, so after a while I began to think I was a freak too, that every time a kid made fun of me, or beat me up, that I deserved it,............ you can imagine what my grandparents thought of this.
By the time I started Jr. High, (that's 7th grade if you didn't know) I was being taken to see a counseler every Wednesday and Friday for my low self esteem levels, I guess they thought I would commit suicide or something, but I didn't hate myself, I hated everyone else in the world, something in my head lead them to believe that they were the cause of all my pain. But you can't blame me, I was, for the most part, shunned by the other students, they wouldn't tease me anymore, but they would never talk to me either. Like I said I had an extrodinary low level of self esteem.
Yup, that's my childhood background, pretty sucky huh? What's next? My teenage years, you know, ages 13 to 17, and also, in case your wondering, where the story begins to get interesting, or at lease, a little more exciting..........
~A/N~ Ah, the sweet blissful mix of writer's block and insomnia...........someone shoot me. Ugh. I have school tomorrow morning! Okay, no more complaining, my bad, your not here to listen to me moan and grumble, your here because you want to see the first chapter of my story, considering you were intrigued by the intro. I won't push it off anymore, here it is, see ya next chapter.
"Life" by a Ghost
Chapter One: Every Story Has A Beginning.
I'm happy to see you. And I'm grateful you've decided to listen to me, I'll admit, as introductions go, mine didn't sound to inviting. But if your ready to listen, listen up. 'Cause here gos.
Actually, my story, like so many others, is expected to start during an epic battle, or a dramatic sequence, or with a note of excitement. But since this is a true story, I'll have to start where it really began. So picture this in your head. Me, as a baby, in a hospital, wearing a diaper. Not very exciting is it? Well, I'm sorry, because that's where my story has its beginnings. And it might not sound very exciting to you, but for the nurses there, I believe it was a very interesting.
I was no more then a few hours old, so there was no way to remember this, but it was told to me by my grandparents so many times, it's hard to believe I didn't see myself do it. I was your ordinary, average looking baby. Bald as hell, and smaller then hell. Actually, I was unusually small, and the doctors were worried that I might not make it. They had to feed me and fix me up themselves, my mother did nothing. That is probably because my mother died a few hours after I was born, hey, I said this story was completely true, but I didn't say it wasn't tragic. But please don't cry for me, when I think about her, it dosen't fill me with grief, because I have never known her,....... of course I've seen pictures, but it's like looking at a complete stranger, because you can't recognize someone you've never seen.
But back to the story. There I was, getting cleaned up and fed by a nurse, while doctors monitored my every move, making sure I would survive to see another bottle, when I suddenly stopped crying, the nurses were overjoyed, one less whining baby for them was one less headache, but the doctors immediatly sprang to attention, fearing the worst, that maybe I was dying, that I wasn't strong enough to live. So one of them picked me up. I instantly started crying again, loudly. The doctor had no idea what was wrong with me, he put me down, wondering if maybe he had picked me up to fast, or to hard maybe. But the second I was laid back down again, I was silent.
The doctors, who every two minutes kept picking me up and putting me down, trying to find out what was wrong with me, were completely and utterly baffled. So for the rest of my stay at the hospital, they avoided even touching me, because even the slightist little brush agains't my skin would set me off again. The doctors figured it to be a phase, maybe I just hated to be touched they thought, and after a while they got my grandparents to take me in, actually, they wanted to, they were crazy about me the second I was born. And the touching thing? It was shrugged off, for a couple years, as, just as the doctors said, a phase. And after a while it subsided a little bit, so that it was only when I was in contact with a person for a little while, and when I was around 3 or 4, I would only push away from a person after they had held on to me for a few minutes, and again, it was thought that I was the kind of person that hated to be touched.
And it was always getting better, and after a while, it stopped completely.........and then I started school, maybe the aggravation started it up again, to many emotions from being the freak in school, so as I was saying, history repeats itself, as it's said, and by my first year in school, it began it to start up again, it seemed the more I was teased by my fellow classmates, the worse it got, I refused to let anyone touch me, the kids thought I was psycho, so when they teased me, it was from a distance. I always tried to get sent home, to my grandmother, and grandfather, who were the only people that every truly loved me at that point. But, it's hard to tell a school nurse you have a headache without them thinking your faking it........
To tell you the truth, I sympathize with any kid that knows what it's like to be picked on or ignored, it's hard, it really is. Being the 'freak' in school isn't exactly a fun experience, especially when the kids don't even know what's wrong with you. So they thought I was a psycho........, funny, huh? I didn't even know that I was psychic when I started school, no one did, so after a while I began to think I was a freak too, that every time a kid made fun of me, or beat me up, that I deserved it,............ you can imagine what my grandparents thought of this.
By the time I started Jr. High, (that's 7th grade if you didn't know) I was being taken to see a counseler every Wednesday and Friday for my low self esteem levels, I guess they thought I would commit suicide or something, but I didn't hate myself, I hated everyone else in the world, something in my head lead them to believe that they were the cause of all my pain. But you can't blame me, I was, for the most part, shunned by the other students, they wouldn't tease me anymore, but they would never talk to me either. Like I said I had an extrodinary low level of self esteem.
Yup, that's my childhood background, pretty sucky huh? What's next? My teenage years, you know, ages 13 to 17, and also, in case your wondering, where the story begins to get interesting, or at lease, a little more exciting..........