Lords

I open my eyes and see a woman. She has long, curly, bright red hair, and cute freckles all over her face. Apparently, I'm in her arms and she looks very worried. As I glance around I can barely make out a muscular man and several children, and another guy that's dressed in an army medic uniform. How do I know this? Well, I've been an army medic before, and I know they don't wear white robes, like the ones in hospitals, but instead have practical clothing and a red cross somewhere on them, for others to see clearly. Also, it seems that I'm a newborn baby and this is my birth. As I look around more, I see that I'm in a small, dark bedroom of sorts, with light only coming from the windows, opened wide at the moment. The doctor also seems to be worried, as he looks at me.

"I 'aven't seen a baby come out 'is ma' breathin' but not cryin'. I'm telling ya', somehin's off."

Oh, did I scare them, because babies are supposed to cry on birth and I didn't? Ok, let's put on a show for these folks. I start wailing at the top of my lungs, and only tone it down a notch, when I see the relieved face of the woman – apparently my mother now – and the doctor sighing and smiling a bit.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout, ya' know? Newbown' should'a wailin' all propa' like that. Now 'dis is healthy'n'all, ya' know."

"Aye, bro, seems like da' lil' wanka'll keep us up propa' at nights. Not 'dat we're not used to it by now, wit' 'da five lil' bastards we already 'ave."

"Oy, Fraser, shut'ya yappin' an' git outta 'ere! Da' lil' lad'll need some rest, and he can't git 'dat wit' ya' wailin' aroun'."

"Aye, Fraser, Moira's got a point 'der. Let's leave'em to rest an' 'ave a drink, 'dis be causes fo' celebratin' ya' know!"

"Oh, 'ta hell wit' both'a'yous. I could really take a drink right abouts now though, so let's get 'ta it. Oy, kids, scram, 'da lot'a'you, your new bro needs ta' rest and yer' ma' as well!"

"Thank you, Owen, fer' everythin'. NOW GIT'!"

As everyone escapes from the room where my infuriated mother gave birth to me, I start to ponder. Where the hell did I get born? What's with the Scottish accent? Am I in the Scottish countryside or something? This would be so funny, if I wouldn't have to actually live my life amongst these people – they seem like the crazy country folk I really can't stand. What's even going on? How do I have these thoughts, and even know about Scottish people? I was… reincarnated… with memories? My mind is aching at the flood of memories about past lives and reincarnation and… something more… Ark. Ow, I need to make sense of this, I need to filter out useful memories and not have them pop up at random. Oh, there, a method to just that. This is way better. Damn, I'm exhausted from all this crying.

"There, there, honey. You can stop crying now, they're gone. I can see that you understand what we're saying, even though it's quite unbelievable."

I stop crying and apparently I'm having an astonished expression on my face, since my mother chuckles as she continues.

"Well, aren't you a special little guy? I wonder if it's some natural genius stuck in there, or this autism thing I've been hearing about? Well, you'll be able to tell me when you're older. Oh, I can see that you're surprised that I speak differently. Well, I was born here in the village, but went to university in Edinburgh, and got a master's degree in physics. Then, as I visited home, I met Fraser from the neighboring village. What can I say, we fell in love. I moved home and now I'm fixing their damn tractors and radios, while the rest of the world is burning. Not that they'd ever care."

Now this is pleasantly surprising. She can speak properly and seems like a nice, smart woman. Everything I could ever have dreamed of for a mother. With her words pacifying my racing thoughts, I fall asleep with a slight smile on my face.