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asked her on a date. And that Honey Fritz Fitzgerald had asked my great grandmother to married him before went on to successfully married John Kennedy's grandmother. 
All of which could be true.
          “Well, he was” She assured me.
          I do remembered, when I was six, talking to a stocky, blond boy outside along the street about our excitement about the new T V series Batman. Was that him?
     
          I had vacationed in New England in Two thousand and four.   I took a side trip to Wayland.
          The trees were so much thicker than when I lived there. I stopped at the green two story house.
          This is the house I lived in,” I told my wife of fifteen years. “My memories are sort distorted on everything.”
          “You were only seven.” she said to me.
          “I lived here from age six to nine, “I clarified to her.
          I drove to Happy Hollow School.    I asked the clerk about the murder.
          “I don't really know about any murder. The last teacher who was teaching in the mid-sixties retired last spring.  She moved away.”
          I went to the police station.  No one who worked there during the time of the murder still worked there. One police officer thought the boy was Mark Dupree.  I looked on the internet and through death records of that era and there was no Mark Dupree.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
                                                            Chapter Ten
     
         My cells lived amongst trees and creatures. Death came to them and I was born.
     
          I cut across my subdivision on top of the barren hill top.  It was the hill top that I sledded down in winter. I was confronted by two boys my age, eight, and a twelve year old that had mental retardation.
          “Do you want play King of the hill, retard!” Timmy addressed me.
          “No.” I replied to them.   At that the three pelted me with rocks. All of sudden, I put my hand to my head and my hand was filled with blood, I screamed and ran to my house, the green one. I ran to my mother. Blood was pouring down my face.   I could not see anything.
          “What happened?”  My mother asked me.
          “Timmy, Mike and Steve just wanted to throw rocks at me.” My Mom took me to the hospital.  I had seventeen stitches.
          Two days later Timmy's mother showed with a lot of gifts and Timmy. “I'm so sorry what Timmy and those other boys did,” She cried and hugged me.
          “I'm sorry,” apologized Tim with a beat red face.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
                                                           Chapter Eleven
     
    A point-like particle's motion may be described by drawing a graph of its position (in one or two dimensions of space) against time. The resulting picture depicts the world line of the particle (its 'history') in space-time. By analogy, a similar graph depicting the progress of a string as time passes by can be obtained; the string (a one-dimensional object — a small line — by itself) will trace out a surface (a two-dimensional manifold), known as the world sheet. The different string modes (representing different particles, such as photon or graviton) are surface waves on this manifold. Hey like string theory--yeah
     
     
     
             After the Wayland Police Station, I found myself in the hotel room. I fell in a trance that took me to a parallel universe. In this universe my mind said I was Frank Einstein.
          I appeared in front of Happy Hollow School.  The cars were from the sixties and so were the clothes. Everything looked Bigger.
                    
          “Hey, ain't that his friend.” Danny declared; glancing