Wild-born

 

Introduction

 

When I was young, I often woke up screaming in the middle of the night, but it didn’t bother me too much as long as I woke up on my bed as opposed to hovering near the ceiling, which could sometimes happen. On those occasions, I usually hit the floor the moment I woke, which was at least as painful as it was embarrassing. Still, as I reflect upon those turbulent years, I must conclude that sleep-hovering was probably the least of my problems.

Before going any further, I should warn you that the story you have in your hands is not a happy one. This may seem pretty obvious, but it is not fun to be lost, scared or injured, and it is never entertaining when someone you love dies. Nor is this a story about courage and noble deeds, for this is the real-life account of many things that I wish had never happened.

If this were a fairytale, it would involve a prince or great warrior. Or perhaps someone who starts off as a nobody but rises to greatness through heroic deeds. In real life, you start off as nobody and usually you end that way too. You do what you can, and what you have to, but no one is destined to live or die, and your fate is determined not so much by courage or brains as it is by sheer dumb luck—or lack thereof.

For the record, there are no ghosts, goblins, witches or vampires in our world, but that doesn’t mean there are no real monsters out there. I sometimes wonder if people make up fantastical demons to avoid having to face the real ones living among us every day. There is no great battle between good and evil either. Good is whichever side you think you are on, and evil is whichever side you are fighting, or running from. I am not, nor have I ever met, a true hero.

My experiences have taught me much that I would have lived happier being wholly ignorant of, but nevertheless I have chosen to share my past with you in the firm belief that you would be better off in the know.

Because it could happen to you too.

However, if you would rather dream about wish-granting fairies, noble dragon slayers and other such nonsense, now is the time to put this book back on its shelf.

Still reading? In that case, let me introduce myself.

My name is Adrian. For your own safety as much as for mine, I’m not going to tell you my real full name. I will completely change many of the other names. Let’s say that my name is Adrian Howell. I was named Adrian by a distant, part-Italian relative, and the reason behind that is a story in itself that has absolutely nothing to do with this one, so I’m not going to go into it. And no, I won’t tell you why I chose “Howell” as my family name for this story. Otherwise, it would be too easy to find me.

I am older and arguably wiser than I was when I lived the events you are about to read. I had a family once, and was young and naive enough to believe that things would always be the way they were. Take this from someone who has been there: Your whole life can change in the blink of an eye, and change again in the next blink. Even end.

And speaking of change…

I don’t want to alter many parts of my story because that feels too much like lying. Instead, often I’ll just leave certain information out. Not just people’s names, but places too. I know that can be annoying to you, but if it were entirely up to me, I would tell you every little detail. Unfortunately, truth is dangerous. There are just too many people who could get hurt, including you.

Anyway, here is most of my story from the start…