I'm writing this because I do not know how much longer I have. And for the rest of the time I have; I want to write about my childhood and how I got here.

As a kid. I always knew the paranormal was real. My parent never believed in any of that "mumbo jumbo" my mother called it. She always said I was just a child with a wild imagination.

This all started, one day, outside the house when I had just turned seven. I remember it distinctly. I was outside, playing with my hotwheels in the dirt path. I heard something call my name. "*Jake*" I turned my head around so fast I probably got whiplash. I heart it again, but louder. "*JAKE*".

I then made the worse mistake of my life. I asked who was there. Little did I know; he'd never leave my side for the rest of my life. Let me get back to the story, now.

It then appeared right in front of my eyes. I remember as a kid, and a stupid one , That I accepted it in.. That was such a grave mistake. And I see that now. I started asking it questions, and I believe it gave me the truth. "Where are you from" I asked. "The depths of hell, Jake" it responded. Maybe it was trying to scare me? But the monotone in it's voice told me it was the truth. Even as a kid, I never believed in hell or heaven. The good and bad thing. The burning for all of eternity. It sounded crazy. And it sounded like a foreign language to me. How could any of us know? At least, until it was our time.

I remember then...