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George's Journey: A Fictional Narrative

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George's Journey: A Fictional Narrative
George had been dreaming about running. He'd found a magic potion, drank it, and found his legs feeling oh so young! He found the faster he ran, the more ground he covered in each step. It was if he pushed off with one foot, traveled in the air for ten or fifteen feet, and finally landed on the other. Each step made him feel lighter and lighter and he soon found himself traveling a distance of half a mile or so between steps. It was like flying of sorts. No pain, no knee weakness, just floating along enjoying the morning breeze in his face.

That’s when Millie’s voice once again became his morning nemesis.

“George … George … wake up! George, there’s someone knocking at the front door. Get up and go see who’s there!”

“Ain’t
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A sadistic smile crossed his face at the idea.

Slipping on his house shoes, George made his way down the stairs and to the door. Looking out the peephole, he saw his new neighbor, Jason, standing there.

“What the hell does he want this early” George wondered. “Oh, well, only one way to find out.”

Opening the door, George greeted Jason with an unexpected, “Boy, you’re still on military time. Here in the civilian world, most people stay in bed until a decent hour.”

“I’m sorry, George” he responded. Jason hadn’t considered how early it was. In fact, the time of day was the last thing on his mind. “Something just happened that I need to talk to you about. I can come back later if you want, but I’m kind of at a loss right now.”

“I’m already awake, c’mon in” George replied stepping back so Jason could enter. The boy’s face showed the strain he’d been under. Couldn’t turn him away looking like that. “Millie’s not up yet either so no coffee’s been made. I can make some if you want. You look like a beer might suit you better!”

“Coffee will be just fine, sir” Jason
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George stood up, put a couple of empty cups down on the table, grabbed the pot and filled them up. He pulled out a carton of milk from the fridge and the sugar bowl from the counter and set them down in the middle.

“Fix it the way you like it” he said.

George held his next comment to himself. “No, I'm not going to ask him if he's crazy. Wouldn't tell me if he was. Probably don't know it anyway.” he thought.

When both had prepared their coffee to their liking, George decided to break the silence.

“Jason, how long have you believed in ghosts?”

“Wow,” thought Jason, “talk about hitting me between the eyes.”

“How long, George,” he replied, “about twenty-five minutes for sure!”

“Seriously” George said, “Have you believed in them all your life, or has your experiences in the house started it?”

He knew his answer might make him appear to be crazy, but this was no time to lie. He’d have to take his chances with George believing the truth.

“George, like most kids, monster movies scared me to death. Still, I’d watch them because I liked being scared. Sounds strange I know, but a lot of kids are that way” Jason said and paused, taking a drink of

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