I am going to tell you now about something strange that’s happened to me, a something which, to be perfectly honest, is in the process of still happening to me even as I write these words.
I don’t know how many posts this story might require. Perhaps I will go on to other things and then return periodically to it, as the something strange continues to develop.
Probably I will.
I am no stranger to strange things, I assure you. Most of them I have never shared with you and still might not. Once I was held for ransom in Venezuela, and another time, in New York, my sister and I found our doppelganger – or whatever the right word for a third is – while riding on the subway.
The current strange thing is stranger than any of that, so strange in fact that I feel rather compelled to share it. Though it occurs to me now, so far into this explanation, that by its very strangeness it will be unlikely to be believed by you and by other readers, it’s still a good story.
I have never been scared off from a good story by its mere truth.
Like so many of my stories – too many of them, maybe – this story starts off with my sister, Farzana. Farzana was reading this blog, here at “Groves of Spears”, like you are. It was the post I did about migraines.
That’s when things began getting strange...