Hey everyone! This will be my second story on fanfiction. I just wanted to throw some stuff like this and my first story out there for practice. Keep that in mind when you're reading! Also, if you like these I plan on updating every two weeks:)

P.S. This will be OC centric. I've read a few surprisingly good ones (and MANY god-awful ones) and thought I'd give my idea a shot…

Prologue –

I'd always thought that my death would be pretty dull, expected even. Cancer or disease later in life, maybe a car accident, but I never thought my death would be as outrageous as it actually was. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I sat around planning my death, I just had some general expectations.

Well, as it turns out, those expectations were pretty far off. And being electrocuted in front of hundreds of people kind of puts a damper on your high school graduation.

Here's what happened: My name had just been called and I was extremely relieved. Having a class of almost 600 seniors makes graduation a tad tedious. Nonetheless it was finally my turn and I walked on shaky legs to the stage at the front. After standing in line with my row for a good ten minutes I was finally allowed to move. Each row had to stand as their names were called and I just happened to be the very last person in my row.

We had been there, either sitting or standing, for nearly four hours. My row was the second to last to have their names called, which was the main reason why absolutely no one was paying attention.

I sighed in relief when my name was called, just a few steps more and I'd be off the stage with my diploma.

As I walked quickly to the principle's podium I wiped my sweaty palms on my gown and focused on not tripping. I don't usually get nervous for those kinds of things, but I bet anyone would worry about tripping and making a fool of themselves if they were as tired as I was. The too-big gown didn't help either.

Anyway, I was just about to grab my diploma from Mr. Philips when our assistant principle cut in front of me to hand him a new microphone. The cordless one he'd been using was giving off a weird echo, so I guess she'd thought it would be a good idea to try another. I was kind of pissed that she couldn't just wait until after I took my diploma.

She took forever trying to untangle the cord it was attached to and I tried not to let my annoyance show on my face. Uhhhh... Can't I just graduate already?

Turns out, I never would get the chance.

Just when Mr. Philips went to take the new (untangled) microphone, the lights flickered. The microphone dropped to the floor, making a loud whine as it bounced and rolled towards my feet. As the two administrators sent confused glances up to the ceiling I knelt down to pick up the microphone.

If I had reached for it with a little less speed I might have noticed the tangible buzz surrounding my hand as I reached out, but maybe not. Regardless of what might have been, I did pick up the damn thing and trust me – I regret it.

Why did I have to be such a considerate person? Why couldn't I have just grabbed my diploma and moved on?

Just as I started to straighten, with the microphone in my right hand, my muscles tensed up. I remember a strange tingling sensation shooting up my arm followed by extreme pain, then darkness. Long story short, I was electrocuted less than a meter from my high school principle. I was this close to being done with high school at last – then I keeled over. Tragic, right? Seriously. I never even had a chance to get drunk or go to any college parties.

…

When I came to again I couldn't see anything. I could feel my body, vaguely, but it felt strange. I could only move the smallest of distances and even that was a challenge. And I was exhausted, no, I was beyond exhausted. My brief moment of consciousness ended, sending me back into the darkness I had just left.

What felt like an eternity later I surfaced again. This time I remembered graduation and my thoughts were clear. Am I dead? Or just in a coma? I didn't know for sure but I had a general idea when it came to what happened. I've always been surprisingly quick on the uptake and this time was no exception. I recognized the tingle for a surge of voltage and wondered what had happened after I blacked out, or died, whatever.

For some strange reason I felt like I had died. As morbid as it was I just didn't have the same sense of self that I only just then noticed I was missing. I didn't really feel like I was a person… I felt ethereal and insubstantial, like a ghost.

Now at this point I knew that I should've been panicking, but just as I started to thrash a bit a gentle noise hummed through my ears. Even though I couldn't pick out individual sounds I immediately calmed. Without my panic to distract me I finally started to notice my surroundings.

I was floating. At least, I thought I was floating. I wasn't holding my breath or swallowing water but the sensation was there.

I still couldn't open my eyes to see where I was (if I even had eyes) but I could hear some. Everything was muffled but the hum that had calmed me was easily felt and heard. The hum sounded like someone's voice, but it was indistinct and didn't form any words I could recognize. The noise rose and fell in a soothing rhythm and soon, I was lost to darkness once more.

After that point I rotated through periods of awareness and a blank mindless state. I couldn't even dwell on my death. Every time I did I'd get upset, be comforted by the familiar noise, and fall into unconsciousness almost immediately.

It was the frustration that finally convinced me that if I was dead, I was definitely not in heaven. I also didn't think I was in hell; there was no pain and I felt relatively safe.

I'd never really thought too hard about what came after death. I wasn't religious, but I wasn't an atheist. I think on some level I believed a form of God existed, but I didn't know if my weird state of being was the normal afterlife. If it was, then that sucked because my life (death?) wasn't very stimulating.

The rotation between awareness and zombie-ness continued for what felt like an eternity. I'd breach consciousness only to lose it again. In those moments of clarity I'd pray for something, anything, to end the monotony.

It's too bad I came to regret that decision the very next time I surfaced again.

…

The last time I woke up in that dark place was a completely different experience compared to all that came before. This time nothing could soothe my panic. It felt like I was being squeezed. The hum that had grown so familiar, so safe, was high pitched and frantic. My heartbeat (huh, I have a heartbeat again?) was pounding in my ears as my own panic reached a crescendo.

The next thing I knew there was cold air around me and a blinding white light seeping through my eyelids. Something large and powerful had me in its grasp. I did the only sensible thing I could do, I screamed. I screamed and wailed in an infant-like pitch until I was placed on something soft and dry.

I stopped screaming a few moments later in an attempt to take stock of my surroundings. The problem was, I couldn't see! It was with shock and no small amount of fear that I realized I was being cleaned and dried by hands that were as big as my entire body. The giant hands wiped gunk from my face and body before wrapping me in what felt like a blanket.

With a sense of horror and disbelief I assessed my situation. Even in my less than stable mental state I had enough common sense to guess at what was going on. Was I just… Am I a… Shit, I just experienced my own birth with a conscious mind. That is so fucked up.

Once I was sufficiently clean I was placed in someone's arms. I blinked frantically in an attempt to make out the face looming above me. All I could make out was reddish-brown hair and dark blue eyes, the individual details were indiscernible. It was then that the face above me started to speak. She cooed and whispered in a soft voice and I froze in recognition.

It was the noise from the darkness, the one that made me feel safe. I was a baby and this woman, the one holding me, was my mother.

Huh, guess this isn't a memory. I had wondered if I was just re-experiencing the beginning of my life or actually being born as a new person, but the face of my new mother sealed the deal. My mom had dark brown, almost black hair and brown eyes. This woman holding me was not my mom, well, she was, just not the mom I remembered.

I didn't even cry at the realization. I was still too traumatized (from being BORN!) to do anything but stare in open mouthed shock at the woman who'd given birth to me. Even thinking it was weird! And with my mind completely overloaded I fainted, though to anyone else it probably just looked like I fell asleep.

Geez, I was definitely gonna need therapy after this.