I'm continuing on with providing yet another introduction to the third of four storylines present in my newest reader-directed story "The Gift". All versions of this story will involve a teen moving from Eastern Oregon into a fictional town called "Cherry City, Oregon". For those familiar with Oregon may realize that "Cherry City" is based closely off a real location, but I don't have to go into specifics-- just relax and enjoy the story!

As you may have noticed, the humans presented in these stories start things off by meeting a spirit; despite what you may have presumed, none of the 'furry' spirits presented are deities-- just spirits. More on that later of course, but what you will need to know is that each storyline will involve four spirits which will interact with the main character.

The main character will be further filled out by reader selection, which will be detailed in the near future.

Please be advised that any, or perhaps all of the "The Gift" stories may include adult material of a m/f, m/m, or f/f nature-- of course, that entirely depends on the paths the audience chooses.

The Gift
Intro B
copyright comidacomida 2018

Can you remember anything about your birth? I can't. What I can remember is the time I died. I know that sounds like a strange way to start a story rather than finish it, but I suppose you could say that everything about my death was strange, or the fact that I'm around to talk about it. I guess to fully explain it I should go back to the beginning... or at least far enough so it doesn't sound so... awkward.

See, after I graduated high school I had enough money saved up from summer jobs and gifts to move to Cherry City. I figured that living in a small eastern Oregon city limited my options and eighteen years of 'not a lot' needed to come to an end. The one thing I didn't consider was how expensive things would be in a big city-- I just figured it'd all be dirt cheap because how much less shipping would be involved for stores along a major interstate. It was one of a lot of lessons I ended up learning.

I didn't have any plans after moving except that I wanted to get my life started as an adult free from school, grades, and teachers. College wasn't exactly on my mind but I didn't rule it out, which was just fine since, whether I wanted to do a two year degree or a bachelors, Cherry City had a number of different places I could go. That really didn't factor into my immediate life after moving though; I wanted to get settled, get a job, and start being self sufficient. Step one had to be getting a place to live, and I found one in my price range... unfortunately it sucked.

There were some pros and cons to getting a two-bedroom-one-bathroom dump; one positive was that I was able to handle the security deposit and several months of rent without having to worry about a roommate; one negative was that the place was a dump. The house was within walking distance of the mall, tons of fast food places, and a ton of hang outs. Then again, it was a dump. It came with a fridge and a microwave and an oven and they all worked. Unfortunately, not much else in the place did-- and that included some of the lights, the heater, and, half the time, the hot water. No, it didn't have AC, but I grew up in the desert, so some 90 degree weather was nothing.

Still, the fact was that it was MY house; it wasn't my parents' place; it wasn't an apartment; it was a house, and I didn't have to listen to anyone-- other than my landlord but he didn't live there with me so he may as well not have existed. It was MY place, and I was riding high on the surge of success that came with having my own place. I blew a few more bucks on getting a TV and got a great deal on a black leather sofa, a bed, and a recliner off of Craig's List. After that, all I had left to do was get some shopping in so I could have some pots and pans and plates with utensils. Not bad for my first week.

The one downside of moving half way across the state was that I didn't have any friends, but the prospect didn't intimidate me much; I'm not exactly what you'd call an extrovert, but I never had trouble meeting people so I wasn't worried. What the downside to that was that I had to move everything myself, and that meant I had to rent a moving truck. Do you know that they don't like renting vehicles to eighteen year olds? So, short summary of THAT experience: I had to use rope to tie a black leather sofa to the top of the old station wagon my folks gave me for my sixteenth birthday, and I had to get the couch into my place all by myself.

Yes, it was as bulky as it was heavy, and yes, it took me most of an afternoon to get it thirty feet from the drive way into the living room. To be honest, though, it was worth it; I'd always wanted a black leather couch. Following that long chore I was sticky and smelly, so the obvious thing on my mind was a shower. I hadn't gotten around to buying a shower curtain so the result was going to be getting water everywhere; I cursed my luck and resolved to get it the next day, but I didn't foresee a lethal wiring problem.

A short in the wires running in the wall combined with the electrical not being up to code turned the puddle on the floor into a lethal trap, and who do you think was around to set it off? Can you imagine letting out a relaxing sigh as you finish up a nice hot shower only to set your foot on the linoleum floor of the bathroom and get a strong enough jolt to stop your heart? I wouldn't recommend it.

You know, when media discusses death they talk about a white light, or about a peaceful blackness, a celestial choir singing, and any other number of peaceful-sounding scenes, but, personally, that wasn't my experience. I remember feeling a sudden jolt, surprisingly similar to what I always envisioned being kicked by a horse would feel, and then confusion, followed by a strong sense of pain in my chest and a complete helplessness. I remember wanting to breathe but not being able to; I wanted to struggle and scream but there was no body for me to do any of that. I wanted to see what was going on, but it was just blackness. I couldn't see, I couldn't scream, and I couldn't breathe... until a breath did it for me.

Have you ever been somewhere that the air you breathe had a taste? Maybe some deep forest that had an earthy flavor or the back-of-the-throat salty tang of the sea. I'm not talking about a scent-- I mean something so much a part of where you are that every bit of it is infused with something so incredibly primal that you can't help but feel it with all your senses. That was the kind of breath that filled me; it tasted like a campfire and a spring brook-- like mushrooms and the ocean-- it tasted like a field of grain and the mist in a green valley-- more than anything else, it tasted like life.

I sat up, coughing and shivering, naked on the floor of the bathroom floor, vision blurred as I stared up at the golden-brown-colored ceiling. It took a few seconds for me to blink away the haze from my eyes and, as I did so, I strongly recalled that the ceiling was supposed to be that cheap white popcorn textured stuff. A moment later the distinct rumble of a deep voice with a rich British accent spoke quietly "Death does not come for thee today, child."

I raised a hand and held it to my head; out of nowhere a pulsing headache pushed its way through the numbness I felt, and the only response I could muster up was "Huh? I'm not a kid. I'm eighteen."

An almost feral rumble jolted me from my spot on the floor; it sounded like the snort of a horse caught off guard by a sudden move, only far more... predatory. It took a second, but as I managed to blink away the last vestiges of blurriness from my vision things became clearer-- and suddenly much more confusing. Staring down at me was the largest eagle I'd ever seen, its amber eyes focused wholly on me with a sense of surprise and confusion. The eagle's feathers parted at its neck, which was connected to the broad shoulders and tawny fur of what I could only describe as the body of a man combined with a lion.

Even stranger was that the body was covered in what looked like a shirt made out of small chain links. During my attempt to make sense out of what I was looking at the creature-- the gryphon drew back, the feathers on his neck puffing out as he pulled away, talon-like hands clenching and unclenching in the air before his beak parted, moving delicately and with purpose as he formed the words. "You... hear me? You can SEE me?"

He rose up as he pulled back, standing on leonine hind legs like a person would, and I saw that he had leather pants-- not the normal kind, but the ones you'd expect to see in some Camelot movie. With a sword at his hip and large, partially unfurled eagle wings, he made quite an impression, and I couldn't help but think that I was hallucinating. Regardless, taking in a steadying breath, I--