Growing up I didn’t mind the cold. I never seemed to thrive in the summer heat. I would imagine it was something in my DNA. Maybe something beyond my pale skin and reddish hue. Some genetic propensity, something that always drew me towards the supposed misery of grey and cloudy skies. The kind that often warned of storms or pending rain. I always found clouded skies more interesting anyway. Not sure why, but I did. My mother jokingly told me it was the Irish in me. She said it was written into our genes after hundreds of years of living under grey skies and wet weather. I tended to not believe her since she used the same line when attempting to coax me into finishing any potatoes that she would make with a vast number of meals.

But this was a new kind of cold. Nothing overly dramatic, like ‘a bitter cold that cut to the bone’; nothing like that, or nothing as a ostensibly over sensationalized. It was more of a calm cool. As if my nerves while still heightened were also dulled and accepting of a deeper chill. I can feel “my” appendages right now but I truly feel like I’m wearing a giant rubber suit.

Which in many cases is not far from the truth.

My name is Jerry McCray….or I guess I should say it was Jerry McCray. This week I believe my name is George Devonshire, but I will explain that in a bit. I say ‘was’ because I am dead. In fact I’ve been dead for about 9 months, give or take a couple of weeks. Time management has never my strongest of suits in some regards.

So you may ask yourself, ‘How the hell is he writing this?’ Good question. One, I fully intend on answering but I should probably start near or close to the beginning. So queue whatever 80’s flashback music or special effects in your head and jump start the flux capacitor, because we are going back in time…ok so just nine months. However, a lot has happened in 6 months. We’ll see if I need to go further back. Actually we’ll see how long old Georgie Boy can hold out before I need to give him a break. One of the many things I’ve learned from being dead is that not having a body makes you easily forget the limitations that our bodies impose upon us. Thats not to say that those limitations are bad, in fact many physical and mental limitations are there for a reason. They usually keep us safe. They usually tell us when our breaking point is upon us. I was amazed as to how quickly i forgot that. If I could apologize to my first encounters after dying I would, for that very same point. However, I know they wouldn’t understand, and I’d rather not torment them anymore than I may have already.

Nevertheless, now being more cognizant of that point I now realize that I have to provide some breaks for myself. George hasn’t had the roughest of encounters as some my previous, but I’d also say he probably wouldn’t be up to task anyway. George is in his late 40’s but probably looks like he’s in his late 50’s due to his slightly obese frame and lack of hair a top his head. The salt and pepper stubble on his face and neck blend into the short almost military cut hair style that halo’d his head. His skin is worn and browned from his recent trip to the beach in Florida.

I digress again. So let me get back to talking about how this whole thing started.


Having no sense of t




I grew up idolizing anything and everything science fiction, fantasy and sometimes horror. I even loved the old classics like the invisible man, and frankenstein movies. So to think that what is going to me right now is blowing my mind, is quite a feat.

I died in a car crash. Nothing huge, just your average gruesome t-bone by a semi-driver that happened to fall asleep at the wheel one late night.

Since then, i’ve been in limbo. In all honesty, I’m a fairly religious man and I thought my beliefs and religious understanding of what happens to mankind after death was pretty straight forward. You went to heaven, or an afterlife and then judged and then to the real heaven or hell. And that may very well still be the case but I don’t think that happened to me. Like I somehow slipped through the cracks, or that I have to do something to get back to heaven. Like that movie in the 80’s, ‘Heavenly Kid’. I don’t remember all the details of the movie, just that the guy had to fix something before he could go home. Or maybe I’m thinking of the movie ‘Ghost’ with Patrick Swayze. Not my favorite Swayze movie but the women couldn’t get enough of it at the time. Anyway, I digress.

I don’t think I went to the afterlife, unless the afterlife is filled with live human beings, and no dead people or spirits like me. If there are spirits like me, then I haven’t seen them yet. Then again, I’ve been doing some crazy stuff in the past 6 months.


Jerry and jump from body to body and use it like a shell. When he does this it potentially causes damage to the host if he stays too long. The host spirit doesn’t know what happens but is drained by the experience. The reason the host spirit cant leave and come back is because it is a skill that only a spirit that has had its original body die and pulled from it. Jerry, left behind a wife and 2 kids and a mound of debt. He was working a normal corporate job and a side job at night to make ends meet. While his life insurance paid for some of the debt he still had quite a bit so he decided he would do things that would allow for his family to survive without him.



Story Idea – The Paper


Kiernan and Agnes are brother and sister who discover that their father (Alister) is a retired spy and assassin.

Kiernan is a tall medium built 19-20 year old. He has slightly curly sandy brown hair and pale blue-green eyes. His pale complexion, faded freckles that are only visible when angry or sunburnt and squared jaws do little to hide his Scottish/Irish heritage.

Agnes a slightly shorter but slender 17-18 year old has medium length brown hair and blue-green eyes. Unlike her brother, Agnes’s wispy silhouette only masks the very athletic high school medal winning track star.

Kiernan uncovers the facts and history surrounding the mystery little by little after coming across a photo he uncovers while researching information on his sophomore year (college) thesis paper on government intervention in international conflicts. The first photo in question was of the Grenada invasion by the US military.

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Story Idea – The Dead One

A boy named George Rewoll has a very special gift. He can’t die. He can age just like you and me, but he can’t die. Yeah, I know its an odd paradox if you continue to age but not die. I cant tell you the future, but all I can tell you right now is that after 17 almost 18 years of age, George should have died at least 20 times. Well at least there are 20 times that I know of. George came by this very strange and unfortunate discovery early in life. I’ll get to that part in a moment. What I will say now is that, well its more of a question…what would do if you couldn’t die….but if what would kill a normal person doesn’t kill you but may hurt someone around you….