Bag om The Haymaker
My earliest recollection of being somewhat 'different' from other people was when I was five years old. I was never interested in playing the 'silly' games that other children played at nursery school. I had always felt old beyond my years. One teacher once called me a 'little professor' and although I think that this was meant to be a criticism, for me it was a compliment. I became appreciably aware of the 'gift' that I had at around the age of six or seven when I found a small frightened bird in my garden. It had a broken wing. It lay on the ground looking defeated as if ready to die. I made the bird a nest in an old shoe box and gently lay it inside. I nurtured it back to health. Well that is what everyone else thought. The truth is that the bird's wing healed the minute that I put my hand on it. I watched in awe as the bird's skin sculpted together again and the feathers spread over the newly formed skin. I was fascinated although had very little understanding of what I had done. The second time that something like this happened was when I was about eight or nine. My best friend Robert fell off his bike. He had rolled around the ground screeching in pain, tightly holding his shin with both hands. When I managed to remove his hands from the bloody wound, there was a four inch gash about four millimetres deep. It would need stitches I had thought. I gently lay my hand over the wound to stop the bleeding. When I removed my hand to my amazement there was just a slight graze. Luckily Robert did not see the original injury or he would undoubtedly have been freaked out. Instead he was embarrassed about the fuss he had made over such a small injury. It was then that I came to the realisation that I had some sort of healing powers, but I never for one minute thought of the impact that this would later have upon my life. It never crossed my mind that it was so unique or that this gift would become such a burden. To be honest, I don't really remember what I thought at the time as we carried on happily with our bike ride. The only thing I did instinctively know was that I must keep it a secret. How I knew this I will never know, but I told no-one, not even my mother. For several years I kept this secret gift to myself and whilst I did it was not a burden, it was an offering that I was very proud of. In hindsight now I wish that I had kept it my secret for all of my life. It was the same when at nine years old I had the most amazing vision. I was alone in the house. Suddenly the light bulb in my bedroom flickered and went out. At first I thought perhaps that the bulb had blown and as I turned around to go and get a new one out of the kitchen cupboards, I noticed my whole room light u. It was almost like a torch blindingly shining in my face and at the same time there was a great sound of a trumpet. I shivered as the temperature fell in my room. It was then that I saw her. She stood in the corner of my room. She was a beautiful angelic figure dressed in white. I remember looking for her wings, but she had no wings, so I immediately doubted that she was an angel sent from heaven. All angels had wings I had thought. Never the less I knew that she was someone extraordinary, someone that only I would see. She asked me in a gentle melodic voice not to be scared. She invited me to sit whilst she told me the story of exactly who I was and whom I was related to. I sat mesmerised whilst I listened to this beautiful woman's story. Then as quickly as she came she disappeared giving me no time to ask any questions. I was overjoyed at the information that she had given to me and I felt very honoured to find that my ancestry was so very important. You will now hear my extraordinary story, it is an honest account and completely true.
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