A Very Unhealthy Character

Prologue: Exciting New Beginning

I remember the sadness, the pain. Searing, but also cold and numbing, seeping feeling of death. I do not remember my own name, however, or what I used to do short of general knowledge and hobbies, such as books and games that I used to play in my younger years, although not all of them.

When I came to myself, I was in the dark, I could not breathe or see, and moving was tiring and weird. I was panicked for the first... six days, more than I'd like to admit. I have the impression that I was quite the calm man, but I now had the time to reconsider that for quite a while.

I noticed not too long after I came to consciousness, the soft and constant thumping, the watery nature of my surroundings, the murmurs that seemed to come from outside of my viscous home were hard to identify as English.

Of course, it didn't take me long to discover that I am now in a womb. Yes, it appears that I am going through the process known as reincarnation. I had my beliefs in it before, but this is concrete proof. Somewhat of an exciting discovery, but exceedingly boring in its current state.

After all, I didn't expect that I would be returning with the memories of my previous life. Or do I lose them upon birth? That is somewhat of an exciting thought, at least my faculties would be spared from the humiliation that would be a newborn without control of its own body, although it would be a blow to my own ego if something like that happened.

But for now, as I grow and develop inside my mother's cradle, I review the information that I inherited by myself. Strangely, I have no specific memories from my personal life aside from hobbies. For example, I certainly knew that I was married and had children, but I cannot remember my wife or how many children we had, nor their names, places or things that I did with them.

Not only that, I remember weirdly specific information about stories about my family, such as specific businesses that my forefathers invested in the sixties and fifties, striking big money. Also, pop culture from all the way to the year 2024, some movies and books and something about dungeons and weirdly, dragons.

I apparently had a fascination for magic, although it doesn't exist. Well, probably it does, since I'm now reincarnated into a baby, a clear proof of the supernatural. Maybe magic does exist, and I'm a young spirit now young in body too, it's never late. I mean, if I even remember it when I'm born, which I hope I do.

After all, I do no better than just remember more and more each passing minute. Anyway, cutting to what truly matters. Being born, what kind of experience it is? Well, to say the least, painful, blinding bright and slightly warm. After all, as I learned later from my mother, I was born during the late spring in May 20th.

Oh, and talking about her, my mother, Vanessa Crane, a lively woman with blonde hair and sky eyes, with a cute looking face. Lovely woman she is, although the baby speak and breastfeeding, without counting the diapers were quite humiliating. Oh, and I have a name. Duke Crane.

God awful name, saying it makes me think immediately of a pretentious prick. Oh, and I also have a father, a monster of a man of name Horace Crane. Father's a big man, with broad shoulders and crude, manly face and black hair and beady, intimidating eyes.

It's probably a miracle that he managed to land a woman such as my mother. And something even stranger than being reborn, is that the year is 1960, decades before my own birth in my previous life. I was extremely confused at first when I learned of the year, and considered many theories about my current situation, even the theory of the egg that got me a bit excited until I saw it for the first time.

Magic. I was confused, since I was just three months years old. Mother was taking care of me, when she pulled out a stick and waved it around to change my diapers, and they changed by themselves. Yes, magic. A bit of a unworthy way to use it, but still convenient, nonetheless.

Slowly, as I was now more frequently taken away from my crib, I saw more and more, self-washing dishes, brooms that clean the house by themselves and several other little things that made mother's days easier as father was away working somewhere a suit is needed.

They're a happy pair, mother's a nice young lady with a golden smile and warm as the sun, and dad a giant with a scary face but soft heart and even softer smile. As the months go by I'm getting attached to them. After all, they're the first touch of parental love that I've ever felt.

Well, I'll go along quickly. After all, the first years of my life were quite boring, where I practiced speech, crawling and walking. Thankfully, I managed all of it under a year. And dear, I wish I could've taken a picture of my mother's face the first time I said 'mommy'. It was such a happy face, and I felt such a wholesome feeling.

But the rest of my days is a story for another day. For now, my objective is to manage to grab my mother's wand. Onward, to new discoveries!