Chapter 1
Hello. My name is Jack Hills, and this is the story of what happened over the past few weeks.
Here’s all that happened. The first thing that happened to start this whole ruckus, was the crash.
Yes, when I say crash, I mean car crash. I was paying attention to the road, yet some bastard was flying across the highway and screeched onto the road I was on, and we went ker-splat.
I opened my eyes, a shot of pain running through my entire body. How was I still alive? Blood rushing down my head covering my eyes, blood down my chest, How was my breathing regular?
I looked over to my left and saw something horrifying beyond most human comprehension. Most.
My own body. Was sitting there. On the floor. I screamed. I yelled. No one heard me.
I tried to get up, the pain in my ghostly form existing still. I grunted, I screamed again, and my legs were free. I opened the door, wondering how, since, again, I was a ghost.
I got out, limping, grunting as my body hurt. My body felt like a hundred daggers were piercing my skin. My body was slowly healing, actually, but it still hurt.
I was more than ten blocks away from the highway, and my limping state meant this would take at least an hour or two. But I had to get back home and rest.
On my way home my leg healed and, somehow, I started levitating a couple inches off the ground. I forced myself to stand back on the ground.
When I got back I opened the door. “Hey man, welcome back! You’re back earlier than usual!” My brother Owen called out from the living room.
I walked into the living room and, as my brother turned to me he said, “So I was thinking, the next project we should work on… on…” He dropped his journaling book to the floor as he saw me.
“Oh my god… How in the name of God are you floating!?” He said, clearly flabbergasted and confused at how I was a ghost.
“You think I know!? Someone crashed their car into me and somehow I’m still alive!” I was very angry and confused at how I was still, well, half-alive.
He walked over to me and tried to tap me. His fingers connected to my shoulder. We were both shocked.
“If you’re a ghost… then how can I see and touch you?”
“I… I don’t know.”
He threw his hand on his forehead and looked at me with a concerned face. “How… in the name of God, did you die?”
“Some random arsch (German for asshat) was driving a toyota like a formula 1 racing car and crashed into me.”
He looked at me like I was crazy at first. “How… long, did it take you to get back here?” “I know what you’re implying. And it took me a while, and yes, I can hyper-heal. We’re brothers, I can guess what you’re thinking,” I said.
He looked confused, then with a sort of normal face. “Whatever. I’m sure there’s some way to fix you. Some sort of mystical being maybe?”
“Wait… we’re on the job today aren’t we…” He started panicking as I said that. “Wait what!? I can’t go without you!” “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Were on the case of those missing kids!”
Oh. I had forgotten that we were doing that. Owen started pacing around the room, breathing heavily.
“Look, you’ll be fine. Just tell them I’m sick, and I’ll be right by your side the whole time.” I held my hand out. “Come on, man. Just do it.”
He grabbed my hand, and slowly calmed down, and soon he let go. “Alright.” He said. “Let’s do this.” I nodded with him, and we started walking towards the front door.
