I never thought much about dead people, but then who does?

I don't remember the first time I ever saw one, but I'll bet it was right when I was born. See, there's all sort'sa dead people in hospitals. I never knowed though, 'cause I could never tell the difference anyways. And seein' as I was a baby and all at the time, I don't think I was payin' that much attention either. But, see, I still can't tell the difference even now. The only reason I know I seein' dead people is 'cause Craig told me so, all angry-like, like he does. Before he told me, I never even know'd I seein' dead people. I thought they was just people.

Before him though, that counselor lady at the orphanage made a great big funny face at me when I told her 'bout the man who came to the gate everyday. That was way back when though, a long time ago, when my shoes still didn't fit and I was only as tall as the first line on my wall. I suppose that was the first time someone told me I seein' dead people, but I didn't really listen.

Anyways, sees, there was this man, and he came to the orphanage gates everyday at two o'clock, right when it was time for all the kids to go outside and play. Then he'd just like lean there on the bars and watch everybody run around and have fun and stuff, all smiley-like, like he wanted to play too. So's, one of those days, I just went right up to the gate and asked him through the bars if he wanted to play, seein' as he was always lookin' like he wanted to. Well, he made a real funny face at me, like everybody seems to do, and he just walked right away, all quick-like. Real quick-like.

Later, when I was talkin' to that counselor lady ('Cause they says I was a special case and I needed to talk to her everyday. I don't know why, but that's just what they says), I told her how I was real kinda sad 'cause the man at the gate walked away like that when I was just tryin' to be nice. She smiled like she always did, and probably always still does, and asked me what he looked like. Well, I told her that he was real tall-like and old, like a priest, with gray hair and a crooked neck. She asked what I meant by "crooked neck," and I said it was all crooked sideways with the bone stickin' out the side and that his head all lolled like off to the right, and I showed her what I meant. And she kinda looked at me funny. The kinda look where she squinted her eyes and crooked her head, not so different from the gate man, and her lips all pursed up too. And she said, after a pretty good pause, "His neck was broken?" and I said, "Uh huh." And then she told me that that couldn't be, 'cause if a man's neck was broken then he'd be dead.

Well, dead people's what I saw. To me though, they just people. Dead people is just different kinda people, like how there's different kinda people with darker skin or lighter skin, or short hair, or long…They's is just different for one reason or other. I never really thought about it no other different way. Dead jus'…well, it jus' don't mean the same thing to me as it seems to mean to everybody else. 'Cause apparently, to other people, when someone's dead, that means they don't see them no more. Well, to me it means I just might as well see 'em tomorrow just like I did before they was dead! Dead don't mean nothin' to me and it never did. So's that's why I can't tell the difference and I never could.

This is just a little something strange I wrote up.

The narrator's name is Steve, by the way. I heard his voice flying through my head one day in math class a few years ago, and he's kind of been an unwritten favorite of mine until now.

If you'd like for me to continue his story, let me know. He's got plenty more to tell.

Oh, and by the by, I realize this is written with improper grammar. That's just how Steve talks.