When I was in 5th grade a friend gifted me a hardcover copy of all three Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark volumes in one book. This book quickly became my most prized possession, so I wrote my name inside the front cover just in case I ever lost it at school.

At some point I took my book with me to my dad's house for the weekend; which is in another city about an hour away from where I lived with my mom. I had left it at my dad's house that weekend and I guess I just forgot to ever bring it back home with me. Well eventually my dad moved into a new home and I figured my book mistakenly got thrown out. I was very sad about it but accepted my reality lol.

Fast forward a few years to 8th grade. I make a new friend in one of my classes and we become very close very fast. I was hanging out at his house one day and decided to look through the books on his bookshelf. I see a copy of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, the same one I had that contained all three books in one. I pull it out saying to my friend "wow I used to have a copy of this too no way!" I opened the front cover and right there at the top was my name exactly how I wrote it back in 5th grade. My friend had absolutely no recollection of where that book came from.

The day my dad had a heart attack was such a weird and wild day for me. I had weird vibes all day at school, left early and went to go home and sleep it off. I got home and napped; a few hours later I woke up and felt sick to my stomach & I had the weirdest feeling that I needed to be with my dad.

I drove almost 2.5 hours in toronto traffic for those that know, know. From Toronto to Vaughn to a hockey arena. My dad was playing happily and everything was normal. As he was walking me to the car after his game - he was staying with the guys for a drink— he told me ‘ baby girl- I don’t feel well’ and my father had never called me that before. .5 seconds later he collapsed flat; dead. 210 lbs of dead weight crashing right down on top of me- I screamed and yelled and a few people came rushing out of the arena and started CPR, and got an AED and were able to administer life saving results, with the assistance of the paramedics as well. 45 minutes later he was transferred to another hospital for 2 surgeries & survived both of those too.

I still have no idea what told me to go be with him or go to that arena, to be there, to witness? To help? To catch him before he fell? Idk but weird to me