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The First Time-Personal Narrative

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“The last time I died wasn’t so bad. No, not at all. I was warm, in my bed with tea, surrounded by people that knew me and loved me. I was wealthy, that’s always a good thing. I just sort of…slipped away.” Brian was fairly certain he had already gone over all of this with Dr. Kurtz, more than once, and all of it should have been in Brian’s regression therapy file so the irritation came through in his voice despite his trying to cover it up so as not to come off as rude. “No, tell me about the first time. The first one you remember and work your way up to the present.” Dr. Kurtz said in that voice of his that was so welcoming even outside of the hypnotist’s chair. “Well, the first time was nowhere near as comforting as the last time. The …show more content…

I was a woman then and childbirth was not as safe as it is in today’s sterile environments. I went hard that night, beside the fire with nuns beside me, but I was able to successfully bring forth the life that I was meant to before collapsing and never regaining consciousness. At least, until I was once again male. And French. Oh that was something. Paris in the 18th century was magnificent, you really ought to have seen it. Perhaps you did. For that matter, perhaps it was you who stuck the knife between my ribs and watched as I fell into the Seine, face down and floating away, changing the color of the water around …show more content…

God, was she pretty, even if she was a bit of a dunce. She was 22, brunette, small scar from a childhood accident that I think gave her face character but she hated it, abhorred it, even. Either way, 22 was the last year she would see. When some landlord threw her and her family out of the cottage in which they were living, she went to beg for work from people in town. There she found only that human beings care very little for their neighbors whilst pretending to be good Christians. One of the men at the tavern where she offered to wait tables…well, let’s just say he got a little too friendly in a very unwelcoming way. Finding herself with child, unwed, and homeless, this beauty with the small scar, formerly with plenty of dignity, snuck in to the tavern where she begged for work, went to the room upstairs, and hanged herself. “When we got to that one, Dr. Kurtz, my throat was sore for a week and there wasn’t enough water in the universe to quench my thirst. Poor, girl. You know, it’s hard enough living in this world with some of the people around us, but to remember the cruelty and injustices of centuries past with such clarity, it kind of brings it all home, I must

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