This is not the ‘6th Sense’; I’ll tell you up front that I’m dead.

This is the story. I hate to disappoint, but my death wasn’t particularly impressive. It was an accident, that’s all.

In a hurry that frosty morning I stepped outside and slipped on an ice patch. I didn’t even let out a gasp as my head swiftly struck the solid step and all went dark.

After just few moments I was standing atop my porch watching fat snowflakes drift out of the dark predawn sky coming to rest on my now still body. The impossible angle of my neck and retreating color in my cheeks told me all I needed to know.

Grief hit me full force when I realized that my husband, sleeping inside would find me in a few hours time. I hadn’t even said good-bye as I left for work.

I couldn’t play witness to the aftermath of my death. I fully admit that it was cowardly to run away, but what else could I do? St. Thomas seemed like the perfect sanctuary; so I ran here.

You’re the first one I’ve met. So, would you care to tell me your story?