The man who killed me was a very superstitious fraud of a priest. He hated Halloween; he hated witchcraft and all the “unholy” things. I guess tha... my witch’s Halloween costume offended him. But why did he have to drive me over? I was just nineteen at the time of this accident.’ I turned from a calm white to devil red as the anger of my unwarranted death stirred my teenage emotions.The emergency services arrived. The single passenger re-emerged from the bus. She briefed the paramedics on my. "Why didn't we do that?" Aunt Cindy asked. "Oh, good morning, Aunt Cindy," I said. "Didn't realize you were joining us." "Hadn't originally planned on it. But I realized it may be my only chance to catch you away from both your fiance and, more importantly, my sister." I laughed as I stared her up and down. She wore a loose sundress and sandals. Not particularly revealing. Of course, a burlap sack couldn't hide the fact that she looked damned good. She too looked like she was in her twenties. More

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