• Snow
    Prologue

    Today, I died.

    I find it quite strange how everything can be going so right, when out of nowhere—BAM!—you’re dead.
    I had patiently waited for the ‘DON’T WALK’ sign to change to ‘WALK’. I had looked both ways before I stepped out onto the street. I had walked quickly and with long strides, hurrying to the other side.
    I had done nothing wrong.
    And yet, I had gotten hit by a bus.
    Let me tell you now, that getting hit by a bus is quite the experience.

    Your legs are the first to crumple—so fast you can’t feel the pain that should go along with the sickening crunch—and as you begin to fall, the flat surface of the speeding vehicle comes into contact with the rest of you, cracking and crunching it’s way through your body. In a split second—that’s all it takes—you’re as flat as a pancake, lying on the hard concrete that, approximately three seconds earlier, you had stood on with so much pride.

    By the time I had hit the ground, I was long dead.

    When the front end of the bus made contact with my torso, the immense wave of the impact caused my heart to explode. My skull crunched apart, my brain mixing itself and the pieces of bone into a prickly mush.

    It took five minutes for the red flashing lights and the loud sirens of the Ambulance to be heard. I was pronounced dead on the spot, and by the way I looked it wasn’t hard to figure out. They managed to straighten out my mangled body, and put it on a stretcher. I was covered with a thick tarp, and taken off the scene.

    A shame, they had mumbled to one another in the back of the truck, she was so young.

    True, I was only Thirty-two. I was single, no kids, working full-time in, if you will, Syndicate. My life had seemed at its peak finest; I still had youth, but I also had insight.
    But, as I’d always told my friends and family; Young was how I wanted to die.

    My life—though short-lived—was quite the roller-coaster ride. The teen years, of course, are always the hardest to live through, but they always manage to be the most adventure-filled. And the adventures I’d had in my teens were one’s that had changed the whole outcome of my life.

    You see, I was not always as you see me now—dead, for one thing.

    Although, you probably don’t know enough about me to know what I was. Or what I am now, for that matter.

    So I’ll explain. I’ll tell you my story, every detail and every experience in the glorious, bliss-filled days of my life.

    But where to start?

    Those happy days take up a number of years in my life, filled with the occasional sad point or tragedy, the occasional disappointment or betrayal. They are broken up in a pattern of happy-sad-happy-sad, like a row of yellow and blue stripes continuing on forever.

    Each happy is a beginning of its own little story, all of the stories creating one big and fantastic tale.

    A tale about adventure, hope, and dreams.

    A tale about conscience, and bliss, and misunderstandings.

    It’s a tale of a person who wanted to become something wonderful.



    So I’ll start from the beginning.