I've decided to write my story in an effort to convince myself and other people that what I experienced actually happened. It would be a lot easier to believe that it was all a dream, but I just can't reconcile myself to that. There are just too many things that won't add up.

I guess that I should tell you a little about my life before it all got weird. I was just an average twenty-five year old girl. I had a nice apartment that I shared with my best friend from grade school. I had a nice job in a science fiction specialty bookstore. I had a pet iguana and was between relationships. In all, I was content with the way my life was going.

My roommate Carol and I were both big WWF wrestling fans. It was a wonder that Vince McMahon didn't send us a Christmas card because we bought so much merchandise. You should have seen our cable bill. We ordered enough pay-per-views to put the bill in the triple digits.

It wasn't hard to imagine our reaction to the news that there was going to be an autograph party before the next live event in our city. We were ecstatic, but there was a problem. Carol had to work that day. She worked for a big computer company, and they weren't as flexible with her hours as my boss was.

I was going alone. But, she left a pile of her stuff for me to get signed for her, and she even let me borrow her camera. "Get me a picture of the Undertaker," she said, "Or else." On the day of the event, I packed up all the stuff to get signed and caught the bus downtown. On the bus, I got one of my famous headaches.

All my friends and family know about my headaches. They always seem to come on when something important is about to happen. Then again, I get them in haunted places too. It's a kind of talent, I guess. I inherited it from my mother's family. I hate to call it ESP, but I really can't come up with a better name either. It's just about worthless, really. Sometimes I can sense spirits or predict where a traffic accident is going to happen. It�s something I�ve never been very comfortable with.

That day, I just took a couple of Motrin. They usually knock the pain down to a dull roar. All that was left of the headache by the time I got off the bus was a lingering pain in my temples and a stiff feeling in my neck. It was something I was used to and could ignore.

As I finally stood in line to get autographs, I couldn't believe my good luck. All my favorite wrestlers were there: Steve Austin, New Age Outlaws, Undertaker, Kane and Mick Foley, to name just a few.

I dug into my backpack as I stepped up to Mick Foley. Carol wanted him to autograph her Mr. Socko she had made for the last house show we had gone to. He had on a title belt in honor of Mick winning the belt. I handed him the sock and my notebook. "Could you make the sock out to Carol and the book out to Tarah?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "Which are you?"

"Tarah," I answered. I've always disliked my name. I just don't feel like I live up to it. Tarah sounds like a southern belle. I'm not, just a redneck from Texas.

"Cool," he said, handing them back to me. "Have a nice day."

I got most of Carol's stuff signed pretty quick. I took a lot of pictures, too. I wasn't as nervous as I thought I'd be, of course I hadn't gotten to the Undertaker yet. I'd been watching him wrestle since his debut. I wasn't his biggest fan though. Carol had an absolute THING for him. I was more partial to Billy Gunn, or really, my secret favorite was Kevin Nash. The day he had left the WWF, I cried. I just couldn't work up the enthusiasm for him now that he was with WCW.

When it was my turn to see Taker, my mouth went dry. For no reason I could find, I suddenly got nervous. I guess I was just thinking about his recent return to the darkside. The whole Ministry of Darkness thing was just a little too bizarre for me. I mean, it wasn't like I was really scared of him. He was just some guy playing a part, right? I'd acted in high school. This was just theater with testosterone.

He signed my book and Carol's comic book with a smile. "Thank you," I said. "Could I get my picture taken with you?"

"I'd love to," he said in that low voice of his. Funny, I would have thought his real speaking voice would sound different.

I handed the camera to the guy in line behind me. He promised me that he could take good pictures. I just hoped he didn't ruin the whole roll.

Taker stood up and stepped around the table. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to his side. Then he muttered several strange-sounding words under his breath. I looked up at him and frowned. His eyes seemed to glow for a second and then I began to feel dizzy and spots swam before my eyes.

I put my hands to my temples and fought for consciousness, but it was a lost cause.

When I woke up, I had no idea where I was. I remembered what had happened and I sat up. I had been lying on a folding table. There was nothing else in the room except chairs. Oh, and Kane sitting in one of those chairs.

That he was sitting there struck me as kind of odd. Why would they put a famous wrestler in a room to watch some passed-out fan? I wondered if I should say anything, when he broke the silence.

"Are you OK?" he asked. His voice was hoarse and gravelly, almost painful sounding. It was obvious that he used that voice thingie on TV just for effect. He was a lot easier to understand without it.

"I think so," I replied, rubbing my forehead. My headache had come back with a vengeance.

There was a knock at the door and Chyna stuck her head in. "She's awake?" she asked. Kane nodded. "I'll go get Shane, then. He'll want to asked her some questions."

I wondered if she could mean Shane McMahon. I didn't really think so. After all, what kind of questions could he want to ask me?

"Can I get you a Coke or something?" Kane asked.

"Diet, please," I answered.

Kane paused at the door. "Would you like someone to sit with you?"

I was starting to think that there was something going on that I didn't know about. "I guess."

He looked out in the hall and then back to me. "Would Test be all right with you?"

I shrugged. If I had to have a corporate baby sitter, I could do worse than Test. Carol and I call him �the rabbit�. We just think he looks like one.

Test came in and straddled one of the chairs. "Hi," he said tossing his hair back over his shoulder.

"Hi," I answered.

"So, how's it feel to be in the company of all these great wrestlers?"

I thought of a few smart-aleck comebacks, but I kept them to myself. Then, I thought, why hold back? "When they open the theme park, make sure they put the passing-out part on the tour."

He paused in his gum chewing to try and figure it out. "Uh... yeah," he said finally.

I looked up as the door opened again. This time it was Shane McMahon, followed by the Big Bossman. If this was how they treated every fan that passed out at an event, word was going to get out, and then the events were going to look like Beatles concerts: people going down left and right.

"Hi," Shane said shaking my hand, "Tarah, isn't it?" I nodded. "Good," he continued. "I have a few questions to ask you."

"I have a few of my own too," I said. Kane came back and handed me a can of soda. I opened it and took a drink. Shane gestured for me to continue.

"What happened when I passed out?" I asked.

"What do you remember from right before that?" Shane asked.

I frowned. "I can remember the Undertaker putting his arm around me for a picture and then saying something I couldn't understand. Then... nothing," I said. I left out the part about the glowing eyes. Maybe that had been red eye from the camera flash.

Shane sighed and sat down in a chair. "Right after you passed out, the Acolytes came charging up and grabbed you. They were trying to carry you off to the parking lot when Kane stopped them."

I looked at Kane. I could recall seeing him just as my vision had gone dark. "So are you saying that I almost went from fan to Creature of the Night in one day?" I asked in shock. There was no way I was buying that Taker had tried to kidnap me. No way. It was just too freaky.

Kane didn't answer, but looked at the other people in the room. I wondered if he was hesitant to speak in front of the others or what?

Shane rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I know he was after you for some specific reason, but damned if I know what it is."

Chyna came in and whispered something in Shane's ear. He nodded and then waved her away. "Tarah, I'm going to ask you some questions. Just bear with me and answer them as best you can," he said.

"OK," I said. I wasn't real sure what was going on, but for the time being, I was going to play along.

"Do you have any ties to professional wrestling?" he asked.

"No." I answered.

"Have you ever worked in a funeral home?"

"No," I said louder. This was getting weirder by the second.

"Are you in any way involved in satanic or evil religious practices?"

"Hell no," I yelled. I was starting to believe this was a put up job. "Did Carol put you up to this? Is this some kind of joke?"

"My family has been threatened and I am doing everything I can to see them remain safe. If that includes asking you crazy questions, so be it," Shane said.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right," I said, "I just don't see where this could possibly go that I could give you any answers."

"Bear with me. Taker found something about you interesting enough to risk kidnapping you in broad daylight."

I still wasn't sure I even believed that. Things like that just don't happen. Wrestlers don't just try to abduct fans. It might be a sort of stalking thing the other way around, but I still wasn't sure.

Shane went on with the questions. "Do you have any belief in the higher powers of the mind?"

"Like what?" I asked.

"ESP, telekinesis, reincarnation, affinity with the dead...� he ticked off on his fingers.

"That's far enough," I said, "I believe. As far as that goes, I guess you could call what I have an affinity with the dead."

Shane jumped to his feet and slapped the table. "I knew it," he said, "It might as well been written on her forehead." He turned to Kane. "You can sense it can't you, just like your brother could?"

I stood up before Kane had a chance to answer. "Look, this has been interesting, but I'm not sure what any of this really has to do with me being here," I said, edging to the door.

"That big dead bastard tried to kidnap you. We at Titan Sports owe you something for that if nothing else," Shane said as he gestured everyone out of the room. "I'm sure my father would like to speak with you."

Kane didn't leave with everyone else. I crossed my arms and stared at him. He stared back. "What is going on?" I asked at last.

"My brother, the Undertaker, is building his Ministry of Darkness," he replied.

"He's really your brother?" I asked. I was sure I had read somewhere on the internet that they weren't related. Kane nodded. "What has that got to do with me?" I asked him.

"Your potential powers are staggering. Someday soon, you will be extremely powerful. You would make an irresistible addition to his minions," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Are you trying to tell me that this crap is all for real?" I asked, "That I'm important because I get goose bumps in graveyards?"

"You know that you have more talent than that," he said.

I thought about it for a second or two. Until recently, I might have been able to truthfully get away with that, but lately, things had just gotten worse. Now I could tell you things about dead people I had never known; things like eye color or the name of their horse. If that wasn't bad enough, there were these particularly pesky spirits that wanted to be my friends. I called them the rowdy Civil War boys.

"So, you mean to tell me that your brother, the Undertaker, is in fact, of the undead?" I asked. "And how about you? Shane seemed to consider you the same as him."

Before I got my answer, the door opened yet again and Kane stopped talking. Vince came in and I knew that I wouldn't get any more straight answers, if I had gotten any this far. "Good afternoon, Tarah," he said extending his hand.

It wasn't good anymore, but I took his hand and shook it. My awed fan routine had worn thin. I just wanted out of there. "Look, I won't sue anybody for passing out. I just want to go home. All the rest of this stuff is a whole lot weirder than it is on TV. Can I go or what?"

"I was hoping for a different solution to this meeting," Vince said. "It has come to my attention that you have certain skills that the Corporation has need of."

I listened carefully. If I was right, there had been a job offer in there, in Vince-speak. "Are you offering me a job?" I asked.

"You want one?" He asked with a smile.

"Doing what?" I asked right back.

"We could call it executive personal assistant. You'll travel with me and take care of paperwork and do some phone calls for me. Later, we can find your niche."

I sat back down. The offer needed some thought. I had just been offered my dream job, but something about it set off warning bells in my head. "What about the Undertaker?" I asked.

"We could get Test and Bossman to act as security for now," he answered. Vince glanced at the men in question. They both nodded.

I bit my lip. It was tempting. "I guess I could look over the contract," I said.

Vince grinned. "You see boys, I knew she'd see it our way."

In a few moments, Shane brought in the contract. They must have been typing it while I'd been getting the run around. Shane tried to be friendly and hang around, until I just waited him out. I didn't want to be rushed through the reading. He left the contract and a pen on the table and left.

I leafed through the pages and looked them over. They looked solid enough. I could even option out of the whole thing in six months if I wasn't happy. I had been sure that there would be a lot of loopholes and legalese, but that wasn't the case. I was about to sign it, when I suddenly shivered. I wasn't cold.

I went to the door and looked out to check on my Corporate protection. Both Test and Bossman were casually leaning on the wall, talking. "Was there something you wanted?" Bossman asked, his Georgia accent thick enough to walk on.

"Uh, no," I answered as I closed the door. I rubbed the back of my neck and sat back down. It was a mild reaction compared to some I've had, but after the afternoon I'd had, I was jittery. I looked around the room. I couldn't see the difference, but I could tell something had happened.

I heard a rustling noise in the ceiling. I looked at the acoustic tiles above me. Rats? Surely not.

Then, one of the tiles moved and Edge's head took its place. He was smiling down at me. Christian's joined it. They were both members of the Ministry. Taker had sent more of his minions after me. It hadn't taken him long at all to call in the second attack. I knew I had trouble. "Oh, hell," I whispered.

"You got that right, sister," Edge said as he quietly dropped down to the table.

I knew there wasn't much in the room I could use as a weapon. I drew a deep breath to yell for help and Edge slid to the floor and grabbed my arm. "Don't do it," he warned me.

Christian dropped from the ceiling and placed his bundle on the table, unrolling it. It was a body bag. "Get her in this thing and let�s get out of here," he said.

"I'm not getting in that thing," I said.

"We disagree," Edge whispered in my ear.

There was a knock at the door. "Is everything all right?" Bossman asked. "We thought we heard a noise."

Edge squeezed my arm until I thought it would break. "I'm fine," I managed to say in a high, strained voice. I was hoping they'd pick up on the tone. They didn't.

Edge eased up a little on his grip. "Now, get in the bag."

"Couldn't I just come along quietly?" I asked. I'd be a willing hostage if it kept me out of the bag.

They looked at each other and shrugged. "It beats having to drag her in the bag," Christian muttered, rolling it back up.

Edge let go of my arm. I stepped closer to the table and picked up the pen. I signed the contract. If I was going to be kidnapped, I wanted to be able to hold Vince accountable. The contract stated I would be provided adequate security. It hadn't been adequate at all.

"What's that?" Edge asked.

"Nothing," I replied.

"Whatever," he muttered as he pulled himself back up through the ceiling. "Boost her up," he told Christian.

Christian pushed me up and then climbed up behind me. After he replaced the tile, the three of us crawled along a heating duct. There were so many twists and turns, I lost all sense of direction. They could have led me back to the same room I had come from, and I wouldn't have known it.

At last, Edge removed a vent cover and crawled through it. Then, he reached back and dragged me out. I was in a lowly lit room. Where, I couldn't have said, but I would bet it was underground, because there were no windows, and it just had that feel to it.

We weren't alone. It appeared the whole Ministry was there. The Undertaker was seated in his throne with Gangrel sitting at his feet like a pet. There was an Acolyte on either side. Midian and Viscera in the corner and Paul Bearer was reading a book at a desk. An imposing bunch by any standards.

"Once again, you are within my grasp and this time, you will be brought to darkness," Taker said, resting his hand on Gangrel's head.

I took a step back and was stopped by Edge and Christian. I knew my chances for escape weren't good. I had about two: no way and no how. Somehow, I knew that aerobics at the local gym had not prepared me for this.

"Clothe her properly and prepare her for the ritual," Taker ordered.

Ritual? That didn't sound like anything I wanted to participate in. As Edge pulled me into an inner room, I saw Gangrel taking his chalice off a table. I sure hoped I wasn't donating blood for this ritual.

In the other room, Edge pushed me behind an old fashioned dressing screen and handed me a dress box. "Put this on," he told me.

I opened the box and pulled out the long, flowing red chiffon dress. It looked like something out of a bad vampire movie. I laughed. "I'm not wearing this."

Edge smiled. "You don't understand. You will. You can either put it on, or the Acolytes will hold you down while I put it on you," he said.

"I'll put it on," I said, my eyes going wide. I didn't want anyone, much less this rabble, doing that.

�Pity," he sighed, "I would have enjoyed it more the other way."

It was just beginning to sink in that all this was really happening. This wasn't some put-on job. This crap was for real. The cameras just caught what really went on around here. I wondered what Hard Copy could do with a story like that. Vince thought he had trouble now?

My hands shook as I took off my clothes and put on the dress. The dress was as hideous as I thought it would be, but it fit. I looked over the top of the dressing screen. "Hey, do I get shoes too?" I asked. If I had to wear the dress, it seemed like a waste to wear my Nikes with it.

Edge tossed me the matching red slippers. I put them on. They were tight, but close to my size. I had to wonder how they had managed that.

I was shaking, not out of cold, or fear, but out of shock. I was just in a situation so surreal, that I couldn't deal with it. My mind was picking up on the oddest things to focus on instead of focusing on what was really bugging it. I was a prisoner of the Lord of Darkness, and all the nice safe escapism Carol and I had enjoyed was as real as a heart attack. My sense of reality was in mortal danger.

Edge peered over the screen. "You're done. Quit stalling. It never pays to keep the Undertaker waiting." He pushed me back into the first room.

Taker looked me over. He nodded his approval and then pushed back the sleeve of his robe and looked at his watch. "It's time."

Taker opened his robe, and Edge pushed me forward into it. Taker wrapped it around me. My heart leapt to my throat and stopped beating for a second. I felt like I was suffocating, but hey, what a way to go. He was warm and smelled really good. Yep, reality was history. I was to the point that I couldn't get any more freaked out. So I guess my brain just decide to go with it.

I was positive that's what had happened when Taker unwrapped the robe. I could swear we hadn't moved an inch, but we weren't where we had started. Teleportation? I couldn't say.

I stepped away from Taker, and Gangrel handed me his chalice. I took it and just looked at it. I was still trying to process where I was. I heard Taker's entrance music. Taker pushed aside a curtain to our left and I could see the filled arena beyond it. I was back stage at Sunday Night Heat.

The Acolytes grabbed me by the shoulders and steered me out through the curtain. I stumbled and tried to keep from spilling the glass of stuff. There was a spotlight in my eyes, but I could hear the crowd reacting around us.

Taker took a microphone from Paul Bearer and started talking. I didn't hear any of what he was saying. I was looking around.

The Brood was standing off to my right on the stage. Taker was to my immediate right. Bearer was skulking around behind Taker. Midian and Viscera were on the far side of them. I still had an Acolyte on either shoulder. Bradshaw left, and Farooq right.

Far down in the ring, I could see the Corporate team. I tried to pull away. If I could get down there to them I would be safe. Bradshaw and Farooq tightened their grips on my shoulders. I wasn't going anywhere unless I was willing to leave my arms there.

I wondered what had happened when Bossman and Test had discovered I was missing. Judging by the look Vince was giving them, it hadn't been pretty. I bet no one had ever disappeared out of a locked room on them before. Hey, I wouldn't have thought of it either.

Taker pulled the cup out of my hands. He almost had to pry my fingers off it. Nerves. He held it up over his head and began to speak in Tongues. I really wished I had heard what he had said. I was getting the feeling that it might have been important.

"Tonight she will be mine bound by blood, Vince, and you couldn't stop it," he said, lapsing back into English.

I struggled a lot harder this time. I kicked Farooq in the shin and bit Bradshaw's hand on my shoulder. I tasted blood, but I didn't care. If I was going to be sacrificed to the Ministry of darkness on national TV, the least I could do was go down fighting.

The Acolytes had their hands full trying to get me still again. I could hear them both cussing under their breath. They had been trying to be at least a little gentle, but that was over. Then again, I had drawn blood, at least on Bradshaw.

They finally got me held still. Bradshaw had his arms wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my sides and Farooq had my legs. Taker put the cup to my mouth. "Drink it," he commanded me.

"No," someone in the ring yelled. Taker hesitated.

I thought it sounded a lot like Kane without his voice thingie. That was a good bet, considering how everyone in the ring was looking at him. He fumbled at his belt for it and then took the microphone from Vince. Then, in his altered voice he said slowly, "Undertaker, I challenge you to a match for the girl."

I looked back at Taker hopefully. It was a chance, at least. As a good little wrestling fan, I knew their win/loss record. The odds were still heavily against me, but with luck, Kane might kick butt.

Taker shook his head. "Little brother, when will you learn? I can beat you whenever I feel like it."

"Then do it tonight, for the girl," Kane replied.

Vince pulled the microphone away from Kane. It looked like he was trying to find a way to put a spin on this he could use. "Undertaker, if you agree to the match, I'll make it no DQ and no count outs."

"Fine, Vince, you can have your match, but make no mistake. I agree only to teach you all that you will submit to my darkness. In time you will all have your turn, but she will be the first," Taker replied. I must admit, he sounded pretty confident. It made me wonder if he was right.

Taker's music once again filled the arena and the lights went out. I stumbled, and was picked up and thrown over someone's shoulder. "Stash her somewhere until the match," Taker told whoever was carrying me.

I was tossed in a broom closet and the door locked behind me. I stood there in the dark for a few minutes before a thought occurred to me. I felt around until I found a crate to stand on and then felt for the ceiling above me. It was sloped concrete. Drat, they had found a storage closet under a stairway. Just my luck. The only way through that ceiling was a jackhammer. So I spent my time sitting on the crate in the dark. It gave me some needed time to think.

Up until that day, I had been convinced that wrestling was fake. You know, a very physical soap opera for rednecks. At that moment, I wasn't sure what it really was. The WWF was a lot more bizarre than anyone gave it credit for. I couldn't say what was real and what was just for show. So far, everything that I thought was fake had proved to be the real deal. I just hoped I would be around long enough to get the real score.

The door opened and Gangrel grinned down at me, showing off his fangs. "Time to go," he said, "Your presence has been requested at ringside."

Wonderful, I thought. I was going to be on national TV again, and I still had no idea what was going on. I just hoped one of those idiot commentators didn't get the bright idea to ask me any questions. If they did, I would screw up royally, I was sure.

Gangrel ushered me to the announce table at ringside. He held a chair for me, and then bowed and sauntered back up the ramp. Everything he did was an exuberant combination of courtly manners and mockery. He really looked as if he enjoyed his work.

Michael Cole handed me a head set. I took it reluctantly. So much for my wish. It looked as if I would be answering questions after all. I just hoped my mouth wouldn't get me into too much trouble.

"Here's our guest for the match, Tarah, the lady of the hour," Cole said. "How does it feel to be this close to being lost to the Ministry of Darkness?"

I frowned as a fresh fan reached over the security barrier and pulled my hair. "Let's just say I'm rooting for Team Corporate tonight."

"Vince claimed that you had just been hired as his personal assistant. Is this correct?" he asked.

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