I was 13 when the body fell.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was at that point I realised I was odd, or at least different from everyone else.

I was stood outside the pharmacy in the shopping the centre in the middle of town. Large Victorian, or maybe Georgian, buildings towered all around me, forming a dull urban canopy that turned the daylight a blueish-gray. I remember looking at a dog, happily wagging its tail in anticipation of its owners return. Barking, it excitedly circled the old bicycle lean-to it was chained to. Some people walked past, not taking much notice of me, going about their lives doing daily things. Everyone just bustling together getting dull daily things from town and then returning home to even duller lives.
In the serene chaos of modern day life I was now ready to return home when strangely, time seemed to slow right down.

Then I felt it.

A whoosh of air right next to me. As I turned to my right, calm and collected, I heard the first of the screams. Pretty quickly I saw it. The source of their cries, there on the floor; or, at least whatever was left of it.
Mangled blobs formed a vaguely bipedal silhouette on the pavement beside me, the pile of gelatinous, oozing flotsam deterring anyone and everyone around me. My mind jolted awake from the stillness and boredom of normalcy, and I felt intrigued. I don't remember how long I was stood there staring, but I soon noticed that people seemed scared of the man-pile, though I had already reasoned that he was very dead and didn't exactly pose a great danger to me.

People staggered into each other, crying and looking upwards, as if wanting to find where he fallen from. Perhaps they were expecting to see an evil super villain laughing maniacally from the top one...