The spring I turned ten I started collecting stuff. Some stuff was given to me. Some stuff I thought was cool and other stuff I thought I might use someday. For instance, I had what was once the wooden handle of a hammer. The broken end could be sharpen to a point and used to kill vampires in the event of an attack. In a pinch you could use it to stab a werewolf in the foot, at least that would give you time to get away (I was still on the lookout for a silver bullet.) When mid-summer rolled around, I had almost two shoe boxes full of stuff. Gum wrappers, feathers, sticks, seriously misspelled notes, rocks, and do dads of all kinds. After a morning of playing with my friends, I headed home to empty my pockets to make room for what the afternoon might bring. I went straight to my room, bent down next to my bed, extended my arm under to get one of the boxes. I felt nothing... so I take a look.... my shoe boxes are gone! gone. gone. gone. As in n...