People are funny.

They're so stupid and contradictory that I want to laugh. I want to... Then, I realize I'm one of them. Crap.

They're so dumb, though! People waste time on crap like what kind of people should be allowed to marry, whether or not racism is still around (and that is what is keeping at alive), and then there's my personal favorite. Death.

They say that they fear death. They try to run from it, and they're willing to kill any innocent bystander who gets in their way. Humans fall back to an animal instinct of fangs, claws, and all.

Fearing death. Fearing what they also call sweet release from all pain and suffering and going to be with the other deceased.

So they fear death, and they love it. They are terrified of losing their life, yet there's always some optimistic asshole at every funeral who, without even having shed a tear the entire time, says some flaming pile of cow dung about “being in a better place.”

I've met with many a dead human in my seventeen years, and I swear that they don't seem happy. I guess Heaven didn't seem like an option for them yet, and I'm sure that they chose to not go down below yet if that was their fate. I sure wouldn't.

I'm pretty sure seeing the dead started when I was young; in any case, I don't clearly remember too many of the spirits I saw until I met Riama.

Pretty short, but this is like the prologue. Trust me; it will get longer.

I hate starting another story, but I have this issue called a slow computer not letting my German project send and "I Like This Idea, so it Won't Leave Me Alone Until I Atleast Write a Prologue" syndrome.