The Magic Bubble Gum
By Keith Kelly
This is a story of a little boy who had five pieces of magic bubble gum. He chewed them one at a time, blew bubbles, and floated away to a different place each time. Young William had been chewing gum since he had teeth. His grandpa, me, as he referred to as his pah pah always gave him gum to chew. I always had gum in my mouth, and every time William was around, I’d give him a piece. Over the years, it went from stick gum, such as Double Mint, to bubble gum. Bubble Yum was William’s favorite. I taught him how to blow bubbles, and he became a master at it.
“Just hold it in your mouth without chewing, the flavor lasts longer.” I told him this because sometimes he would smack and pop his gum and it got on my nerves. William believed it for a while, but figured out it didn’t make any difference. William considered himself a gum expert. Grape bubble gum was his favorite. He also had his favorite brand. He knew which tasted the best, which one blew the best bubbles, and which had the longest flavor. One day we were walking through town and noticed a new store. It sold magic kits for kids. It had all sorts of cool stuff. The store carried magic top hats, magic wands, and books with magic words. As we were leaving the store, by the register William noticed the gum and candies. He spied a green packaged gum. Green was his favorite color, so of course he wanted me to buy it for him. It came wrapped in green paper with the word, “Gum,” written in yellow across the front.
“What brand of gum is this?” He asked the clerk.
“It is something new we got, it is magic gum,” the clerk said.
“Magic gum? William asked.
“Yep it sure is,” reassured the clerk.
“What does it do? William asked.
“Different things for different kids, but every piece does something different,” the man behind the counter said.
“How many pieces are in it?” William asked.
“Five”, the clerk answered.
Once outside walking home, William asked me, “Is this gum magic Pah Pah?”
“No grandson, the man was just fooling around with you,” I responded.
“Awe,” William sighed.
He already had a stick of gum in his mouth, so he put the magic gum, as the man called it, in his pocket to save for later. Once home William put his pack of gum in the kitchen drawer to save for another day. William spent the night every Tuesday evening. Wednesday morning before I woke, He crept to the kitchen on his tippy toes, pulled the drawer, and opened the pack of gum. As he opened it, he remembered the man at the store said the gum was magic. Here is how William told the story to me, believe it or not.
William put a piece in his mouth went outside to sit on the porch, and blew a huge bubble. He noticed blowing bubbles with this gum was much easier than with other gums he had chewed. He blew a medium size bubble and began floating off the ground. He soon realized that the bigger the bubble he blew the higher and further he’d float. It scared him at first, so he squeezed his eyes shut so that he couldn’t see. When he opened his eyes he found it amazing. He wanted to tell me, but was afraid I’d get upset that he woke early and was outside by himself. The bigger bubbles he blew, the further across the yard he'd float. He blew the biggest bubble he had ever blown and floated down the street.
He wanted someone to see him, but the neighbors were still inside their homes, including me. While in the air, time seemed to stop. William couldn’t remember what happened, it was like he fell asleep and lost track of time. He woke up in a soft patch of grass, in a place that he didn’t recognize. He wasn’t scared at all, not in the least. He didn't know what happened, and wondered where he was, but he wasn’t upset or scared.
William explored around this place. He walked though the grass to a clearing where he saw the strangest looking animals. They looked like dogs, but they walked and jumped like cats. They were nice. They approached him licking his hand. He played with them for a while, and they were so friendly. William grew bored, and his desire to explore the next place became strong, so he chewed a second piece of gum. When it became soft, he blew a bubble and floated over the landscape landing in another strange place. This place was what he thought of as the land of water. William had always loved water, and anything to do with water. I bought him plastic pipes and various hoses of many sizes for him to run water though. William liked to design watering systems for trees. He would connect them all over the yard and attach the water hose to the pipes to see of it would travel to the tree’s.
In this new place there were hundreds of pipes and hoses with water surging through them. They stretched out for miles. He was so excited as he took off running and jumping towards all of the pipes. He said he wished I could have seen this as well. William disconnected these pipes and hoses reconnecting them in various lengths. He re-routed them across the land. They all ended up at huge trees, and a huge garden that he watered. He remembered me saying he’d grow up to be an engineer or something dealing with washing machines, dishwashers, or even vacuum cleaners. William loved all those things. He also enjoyed to messing around with vacuum cleaners and carpet shampooers. Once I bought him a real carpet shampooer and he shampooed all the carpets in my house.
William also had a fascination with clothes washers, dryers, and dishwasher’s. Every chance he got he helped me wash dishes or do laundry. Strange for a youngster of six, but that’s what he loved. William stayed in the land of water and hoses for what seemed like days. He wanted to see what was next, so he chewed his third piece of gum, blew a huge bubble, and floated to the next land. It was a land of dishwashers, washers, dryers, carpet shampooers, and vacuum cleaners. Once again, he was so excited he could hardly contain himself. William opened every washer and dryer studying the inside. He also observed how the hoses connected in the back. He studied how the water sprayed out of the hoses on to the dishes, in the dishwashers. When he was little I’d sit him on the washer and dryer, and he’d look for hours at how the hoses connected. When I took him off the machines, he would cry and cry wanting back up on them to look at how the hoses were all connected.
William chewed his fourth piece of gum, blew a huge bubble, and floated away to the next place. This time he floated much longer than before. He fell asleep and when he woke, he was in a land of huge trees; they were so tall he couldn’t see the tops of them. He loved climbing trees and had a nice one to climb in my yard, which he would climb every time he came to visit. I’d been taking him outside to climb that tree for as long as I could remember. The trees in this land grew branches spaced just right for William’s kegs to reach. He climbed all the way to the top. He could look out and see all the lands he had visited with his magic bubble gum. The Tree’s were so close together he could swing from one to another. William felt exhausted. He climbed once again to the highest tree so he could look behind him and see the four lands he had visited. He knew the fifth and final piece of magic bubble gum would take him home. He missed everyone so he knew it was time to go. Besides, he was craving chocolate milk. He chewed his final piece of gum, blew one last huge bubble, and floated home.
“William, William, wake up, your mom will be here soon,” I told him as he woke up.
“I am so tired pah pah, I didn’t sleep at all,” he said.
“Why not grandson?” I asked.”
“Pah Pah, that gum the guy at the store gave me was magic. I blew bubbles and flew to different places all night long. I went to a land where there were strange animals and I played with them, they were so nice. It reminded me of when I play with my cats and dog. I went to the land of water and pipes, just like when you take me to the Explora Kids Museum. I also visited the land of washers and dryers and looked inside every one of them just like when we go to Lowe’s. Then I went to the land of these huge trees and climbed them just like the one in the front yard pah pah. I could swing from branch to branch like the monkey bars at the park were we go on Saturday’s. Then just like the man said at the store, the fifth piece of gum brought me back home to you pah pah,” William explained.
“That sounds like some kind of dream,” I said.
No pah pah, it was real, it wasn’t a dream.”
“WOW! It was real? I asked.
“Yes, pah pah , it's true, it happened.”
“No wonder you are so tired, you have been traveling all night long. I’ve always told you, you’d grow up to be an engineer, or design damns to hold water. Now I think you may grow up to be a writer and story teller like your pah pah,” I said.
“Like you pah pah?” William asked.
Yep, like me grandson,” I answered.
The End
Four Seconds of Slow Motion
By Keith Kelly
I had heard of the “Oh fuck moment,” when trying to kill yourself. This was the regret one had the instant they let go. Around one percent or less had jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge and survived. That was amazing as the bridge rises two hundred and thirty feet above the bay. That did not scare me because there was no way I would be in that one percent. My life just wasn’t that fortunate. Jumpers hit the water in four seconds at eighty miles an hour shattering their ribs into their lungs. I wasn’t sacred of that either, I looked forward to it. Nothing could match the pain of living my pathetic wasteful life. When I jumped, I didn’t hang on with my hands, I just walked off of. As I predicted, I didn’t have the “Oh fuck moment,” not one bit. To tell you the truth I felt an intense adrenaline rush, because it was finally going to happen. As far back as I could remember, I knew I was going to kill myself, I just didn’t know when. Throughout my life, it was the one and only thing I looked forward to doing. People try to figure out what they want to do with their life. They look for careers, whom to marry, having kids, whatever it may be. It felt empowering knowing I didn’t have to worry over such things. I knew what I wanted to do with my life, end it. I just had to wait for that glorious day. The waiting was my issue. When the day arrived I can’t say exactly what made that day the day, I just woke on my twenty-sixth birthday, and knew It was time.
As I said I didn’t have that “Oh Fuck moment.” What happened instead was in that four seconds which seems short to most, was a lifetime for me. I am sure you have gathered by now, I was in that one percent, imagine that. I survived this jump sustaining two broken legs, which healed well. One thing I can say is its true what they say that in death your life flashes before your eyes, it sure did mine.
As my life flashed before my eyes, the first thing I remember was my body bouncing around in the womb. Of course, I didn’t remember this in my life, but as it flashed before my eyes it was clear. The turbulence so to speak was my mother hitting herself on her pregnant stomach trying to abort me. She never wanted me, I was a mistake. She told me many times in my life that she hit herself in the stomach in hopes of losing me. Neither one of us were so lucky. I never cared for her, I won’t say I hated her, but I didn’t like her either.
Before I get back to my descent from the Golden Gate Bridge, let me share a bit about my mother’s pathetic life. To begin with, she may be the only person ever that is as pathetic as I am. My mother was born depressed, and I would assume scared. Her father, my grandfather sexually abused her daily for years. He was a strange fellow, my grandmother even stranger. By the time my mother was fourteen she suffered from anorexia. She had a lot to contend with. Her mother was a basket case having several nervous breakdowns. I did not care for her either. When my mother was nine years of age, her brother blew a neighbor kids brains out. Not long after, my mother’s grandfather and brother killed themselves. This all happened mother as my mother watched. As a result, mom had anorexia, depression, and mental problems her entire life. She married my father and made him sick. He wasn’t going to leave her, so the only choice he had was to become sick enough himself to tolerate he. She is still alive. She may not be when she hears of my suicide, but oh well, it is what it is.
It is amazing how your life passes in front of your eyes. Near as I could tell, for me it was in n chronological order. I always figured it would be pieces of memories, like pieces of dreams or something, but it was so clear. My next memory was when I was six months old lying on my back in my crib. I was slapping at a mobile hanging above my head. I remember being terrified and anxiety ridden. This particular night my mother hadn't fed me all day. My little body hurt from bruises streaked across my back. I could hardly move, the only way to ignore my pain was to pr-occupy myself by slapping at the mobile.
My next memory was being sexually penetrated by a thermometer. I wasn’t sick, my mother did this to me because this was how she got off. I was one year’s old. I bled so bad, my diaper was full of coagulated blood. She threw me in my crib leaving me in blood until she had to clean me up before my dad got home. My next memory was of my dad, it didn’t last long. It was just his smiling face disappearing. He was prideful coward.
That fall, I swear happened in slow motion. Nothing had ever passed that slow for me. I must have been falling at least at sixty miles an hour. My body flipped and contorted in positions unimaginable, as the time moved so slow. My next memory was the game Space Invaders. This was popular in the seventies and eighties. A spaceship shot at invaders, but there were barricades you had to shoot through to get to the invaders. The more you shot at these barricades the more you chipped a hole through them until they were gone. Since the day I was born, life chipped at my wall until there was nothing left to chip at, and I was gone.
In nineteen seventy-two a semi truck backed up the driveway in Texas as I stood watching. I was four years old, this was my next memory that flashed before my eyes. My dad was transferred from Texas to Arkansas. I remember that moving day because my mother sat in a dark storage room with a kid name Robbie from down the street. What I saw was unbelievable, but it happened.
My next memories were faces of friends I met when I was a youngster. Playing cars, wrestling with friends, and swinging on swings flashed through my mind. I loved swings, I was a good little boy, but my environment destroyed me, I became my environment. People always told me that life is what you make it, that you can’t blame the past, for your actions. Well, if I hadn’t been sexually abused, would I be falling off of this bridge at eighty miles an hour? “I don’t think so.” I got tired of hearing all that shit about how it is what you made it. I didn’t make this shit, someone made it for me. It was all good though because in about two seconds I would never have to worry about it gain. Speaking of playing cars, I loved that as a little boy. Corvettes were always my favorite. I never got one at this point, and guessed I never would. After all, I thought it was too late. Oh by the way, if there was a hell I didn’t think I was going there for doing this. If there was a God he would forgive me, because, he understood. I knew he did.
Nothing about this scared me, staying alive in the world was what scared me. My entire life felt terrifying over one thing or another. Paying bills scared me, people scared me, being alone scared me. I scared me. The sheer anxiety of knowing I may be alone for an hour, a day, or a night was terror. The thought of something happening to my family, or if I got cancer, was too much to bear. Jumping from this bridge was much easier.
The next memory that passed before me was the first time I tried to kill myself when I was fifteen. I was being abused, which I feel was the root of me jumping from the bridge. I don’t remember feeling scared then either, I was elated, and thought I deserved to be free from life for the sacrifice I made living through it that long. Shortly after that, I was baptized in the church. My parents thought that would solve everything. What a sham. I went to church three times a week for years, we all did, my dad went his entire life and still chose not to see, but who am I to criticize, I was jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge.
When a kid, I was a shy kid in kindergarten, never wanting to play with anyone. The teacher told my parents they were concerned because I didn’t play with the other kids. Elementary school was no different I was just there. All my life I’ve been just there. I have always existed, muddling through life waiting to die. Every year BoBo the magician came to my school and put on a magic show. I looked forward to that, except I wanted him to make me disappear and never bring me back. Sad huh? Perhaps this whole situation was sad. I wasn’t looking for anyone to feel sorry for me. I knew people would judge me for this jump, but they had no idea what I went through on a day-to-day basis. Anyway, BoBo was cool, he was good at his performance. He did it all, he made rabbits disappear, he could tell jokes, he made me laugh, and I sure needed it that’s for sure. In fifth grade, I finally felt somewhat normal around the other kids as well as in my head. Normal until one Tuesday morning my mother showed up out of nowhere for parent lunch day. She was so high on pills and passed out walking down the hallway. I was so embarrassed. In sixth grade, I began acting out in a violent manner. I slapped the teacher in the face for asking me to clean up my desk. I went to juvenile for a while.
Seventh grade enters my brain, like I said this was four seconds in slow motion. For some reason I decided to play football. What a joke, I weighed only 90 pounds. I got slammed every day by kids. I was the team fool, ridiculed, picked on, and degraded. I sat the bench all season. Many times, it would be pouring down rain, the field would be a mud hole, and we had cotton white uniforms. Mine was never muddy because I never got to play. My teammates sat covered in mud. I would get handfuls of mud and wipe it on my pants so people thought I had played in the game. Not long after that, I quit sports and began playing guitar and writing poetry and songs. At the time of my jump, I had a novel on the New York Times best-selling list. I was rich. Wonder how my books will sell after this.
I left a suicide note, for what it is worth. My girl will find it in about four hours. Right now, her life was good, that afternoon it would change forever. Did I feel selfish? You may ask. No, because my environment created me. I kissed a girl for the first time when I was in the eighth grade her name was Jesse Strickland. She was cute. The first time I had sex was at fourteen, the girl twelve. It took place in the truck of a friend of mine. Way too young to be doing that. She called me a couple of months later and told me she was pregnant. I guess she wasn’t because I never heard anything else about it. I have dreams every now and again the she actually was. I grew up way to fast, which was typical for someone raised in a dysfunctional family. Believe me, mine was as dysfunctional as one could imagine.
From sixth grade to 12 grades, I had a best friend named Eddie. I spent most of those years at his house, where his family was much more stable than mine. Those years were tolerable. Hitting the water below me wasn’t something I was looking forward to, the pain I mean. The result was what I longed for. Jumping wasn’t so bad. I enjoyed my life flashing before my eyes. As I mentioned I always wondered if it really happened.
Betty, wow! She has popped in my memory. She was my girlfriend the last two years of high school. Like most first loves, I thought she was the one I would spend the rest of my life with. Damn how stupid, now that I look back. Normal for a boy of my age, I guess. All kids deserve to be cool and stupid, it’s part of growing up. High school was boring, I found it meaningless, and it passed so slow. I learned nothing. I went to college as well learning nothing. After I graduated high school I bounced around for a couple of years, which was awesome but it got old fast. I went to college earning my degree in marriage counseling. I married for two years then divorced.
We didn’t get along well. I loved her and she was a tremendous woman, there was just something missing. There had always been something missing in my life. My problems have always been me, not the people in my life. I realize that now. Perhaps I always have. A couple years after my divorce, I met Wilma. She has been the love of my life. At the time of my jump we had been together a year. She didn’t see it coming, she would be devastated, but she was strong and would get through it. True love had been unknown to me until I met her. She had kids, that respected me, and I respected them. They won’t after they find out about this.
This fall was definitely four seconds of slow motion. How could it pass that slow, maybe there was a God slowing this time down. As much as I went to church as a youngster, I never have believed in God, nor the devil. I think there is something after this life, which was what I was soon to discover. If there was nothing, well, at least I wouldn’t know, and would be at peace, no emotional or physical pain. If there was a hell, and I was going there, I was prepared.
You may be thinking, what is this guy’s deal? He has woman that he loves, good kids, why is he doing this? Well my friends, like I said the problem was within, and I had serious ones, it was not the outside stuff. The abusive household I grew up in contributed to it, but I had allowed it to haunt me.
A dim light pierced through darkness.
“This is it?” I asked myself as it drew me closer. “Why isn’t it getting brighter, this can’t be it, can it? This is what I spent twenty-six years hearing about. I always heard the light was bright, even blinding. Peace and no pain prevails is what the Bible says, but I feel the same as before, this is it? What a disappointment. I was taken from my family for this. Oh no, what if this is the other way, but it’s not burning flames, actually comfortable. If this isn’t the bad place, even this is disappointing, because this isn’t that bad.
I hope my wife, and kids get through this.
Wait! I’m not supposed to remember them.
Sadness takes over. My heart feels like it is being
chipped from my chest by a dull chisel.
“I WANT MY FAMILY AND THEY WANT ME,” I holler.
“Where am I, what is this place?”
I remember everything good from my life, my happiness,
but I’m stuck here between the light and dark.
“Did I live wrong? What did I do to deserve this?”
I ‘m suspended like a puppet on endless strings
that disappear above me in blackness.
I’m in some sort of surreal existence.
I am stuck in my own memories.
I have now lost all feeling,
paralyzed and numb, smell and sound absent.
My existence is not of the earth, not of anything.
My mind sharp and clear,
remembering only the people I love.
I can’t remember any bad parts.
All my memories are glorious with my family.
Thoughts so intense almost as if real,
but I can’t move, I can’t get back to my family.
Physically I feel comfortable.
Mentally, I feel insane.
“Whatever you are just take me, take my memory
what are you?”
Everything goes dark around me.
I realize I will never go back.
Suspended comfortably in the darkness,
memory sharper than ever,
forever stuck in my happy memories.
Wait! I know what this is
it becomes clear.
It’s what I have heard about for twenty -six years,
HELL.
My suicide attempt was twenty-four years ago. I am now fifty, and my life is fantastic. I am with the same woman, as then, she stood by my side. My Grandson is ten years old, and most days, people in my life never think about that horrible day. Truth is, most days, I don’t either. I was in a coma for three days when I woke with both legs broken, as well as a few ribs. Why God chose for me to live is anybody’s guess. I don’t question him about it, I just thank him. I can’t say I saw a bright light, or God, or Jesus. I didn’t see any of those things that you hear about. Floating in darkness remembering the good in my life, I suspect was a dream. Everyone in the room said before I woke up, I was kicking and shuffling around in the bed. I don’t even know if I believe people see these things in death, maybe they do, maybe I did, I will never know. I will say this though. When I woke, I was a true believer, and I knew everything I had always heard about the Bible was accurate. I can’t explain it, but it was something I felt, and still do.
I changed my life that day, and have lived it ever since. I don’t go around saying praise Jesus, or God loves, or any of that. I never speak at random about going to church, or what a person should or should not do. I go to church three days a week, pray, and I live by the word, but as I said, I’m not one to go around talking to others about it. I am a motivational speaker trying to help a person live better lives that is all. What I try to do is remind people to believe that what they are doing here on earth counts for something.
After my recovery, I found a church, and began studying the Bible. I read as much as I could. I found myself a therapist and I began a lifetime of hard, but beneficial rewarding work. I will not bore you with every detail of my recovery. Instead, I will attempt to give you hope and strength through the highlight of my work. As I said, I found a good therapist who was compassionate, but tough. She called me on my stinking thinking, but coddled me when I needed it. She began my therapy by taking me all the way back to the womb of my m mother. My mother hitting herself in the stomach trying to abort me was where my trauma began. My therapist showed me how to not blame, nor use my parent’s or anyone else as an excuse to act in negative ways. If I do they continue to win, and I give them my power. I have worked on this issue for the last twenty-four years.
I found a 12-step emotions anonymous group and began going to those meetings. I surrounded myself with healthy people, and take advantage of their support. Within a short time, I learned it was ok to ask for help, and I let my pride and ego go. I surrendered, and turned everything over to God. He is the main factor behind all this. He makes everything possible.
What I would like to talk about now is positivity my life after the jump, and how good living can be. The suicide attempt was a blessing in my life. It paved the avenue to where I am today. Five years after the jump, I wrote and essay, about what I told you when coming out of the coma. Being in a place where I could remember the good times in my life, but couldn’t get it back.
It was an essay titled, “Is this it?” It published and launched my career as a motivational speaker. Shortly after the essay published, a pastor in Savannah Georgia read it, and wanted to meet with me. This man, also helped me to turn my life over, because of him, I am even stronger in the word today.
Today, I am a successful motivational speaker, and I love life. Little did I know many years ago what I thought would end my life started it. By the way, I got my corvette.
The End
The Forest Room
By Keith Kelly
Lying on my back on a sunny day, I looked up through the thick trees as the sun peered through. It was perfect, the tree limbs clothed in leaves shielded the sun just enough not to blind me. It didn’t hurt my eyes at all. The tree branches cut the sun in sections creating rays that burst forth over the roof the woods. Noticing the rays of the sun, I began to wonder how far they could reach. Just because I couldn’t see their light anymore, did that mean they stopped? The woods were so thick at this particular place, that was like a room in the woods that I was a guest in. It seemed as if it were my own little room where I was safe and sound from the outside world. The sun rays were the only view I had to the outside of this room.
I spied two birds and I was sure they spied me as well. They may have wondered what I was doing in their room. I wondered what they were thinking of me having been there. Who knew maybe they liked me there, or perhaps they didn’t even notice. They were chirping so I made up my own conversation between them.
“Who is that human down there?” The first bird asked.
“I don’t know,” the second bird answered. “Should we go down and check things out?”
“Not yet, let’s see what he does first,” the first bird said.
“Humans are strange,” the second bird said.
“How so? The first bird asked.
“Well, they come to the woods for fun, just to look around. We are here to find food and reproduce, that is all we live for. Human’s think that is strange huh?” The second bird asked.
“I imagine so,” the first bird answered.
I laughed to myself as I dreamed up their conversation. I supposed they were communicating in their own way, all creatures do. Nature was something I always loved. I would rather be outside unless it raining or snowing. When I was a kid, I used to look up at the clouds forever. I would see shapes of animals and people. I even saw George Washington once. The warmth of the sun as it found me under the thick canvas of overgrown trees gave me peace and reminded me of looking to the clouds when a kid.
The forest voice I find peaceful and relaxing. I like to close my eyes and listen to the sounds that surround me. Birds chirp near and far. I hear an airplane fly over, and a gnat buzzing in my ear, all while a squirrel scurries through the leaves. I hear myself breathe the breath of life, and think about how wonderful it is. Although complicated at times, it ss a wonderful experience. Do animals know what life is? Do they know they are alive? I have always wondered if they do. Of course, many people are alive but not living. They muddle through life seeking happiness from outside things instead of inside themselves never to find it. That’s why I feel like nature is so important. It’s a connection to my spirit. I love my forest room, the little birds above talking, and all the sounds of this wonderful life.
The End
Stressed Simon
By Keith Kelly
“Where is Simon, my patient? He was just here in his bed,” the nurse said to the orderly.
“Maybe the bathroom,” the orderly responded.
“No, I checked in there,” the nurse answered.
Simon had been down at the gift shop looking for something to buy his wife. He was the person in the hospital, but he was the one buying gifts. He found nothing of interest so he bought a pen and a couple of pencils. He figured he could write a letter or draw to pass the time. He also bought a bottle of water to take back up to his room. Simon grew tired of lying in bed, and waiting for the doctor so he took a walk around the hospital. He had been at the hospital for a day and a half. He got admitted for a possible heart attack which was a mystery, because he always watched what he ate, and maintained a healthy lifestyle. He didn't see how he could improve his lifestyle any more, it seemed perfect. He never even splurged on sweets.
The doctor supposed to come that afternoon to read the EKG machine results. While he waited, he decided to take a walk by the emergency room, and the place was off the chain. Nurses were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were sticking needles in people’s arms and butts; it was definitely a busy day for them. There was a belligerent drunken guy throwing bedpans at the nurses. They were doing their best to maintain the guy, but he was rude and drunk. You can’t ever win an argument with a drunk, Simon thought. There were pillows and piles of blankets scattered all over the emergency room. Nurses were giving patient’s medication left and right. Speaking of, Simon knew he would have to be on medication the rest of his life, which he was not looking forward to.
He couldn't understand why this happened, he wasn’t stressed, and there had been no history of heart problems in his family. The fact of a possible heart attack shocked him. All he could do was scratch his chin, and shake his head at this situation. Maybe if he increased his exercise it would strengthen his heart. Maybe he was exercising too much, he had no clue, but was anxious to talk with the doctor. Simon wondered by the cafeteria thinking he should start eating whatever he wanted. After all, he took care of himself and still had a heart attack. He began to worry about taking medication and began obsessing over increasing his exercise regime.
He went back to his room to make a few phone calls to his office. He had concerns over maybe losing a client, which meant a huge loss in money. He began to feel anxious when talking with his secretary, and in the back of his head what ifs were eating at him. What if he lost this account, what if he lost money? He began to worry even more, and then became anxious that the doctor had not been in. He couldn’t sit still and continuously eyed the door waiting for the doctor. He just knew this delay was because the results of his heart were much worse than the doctor first thought. Simon began to prepare himself for open heart surgery. Tomorrow he had a lunch scheduled with his banker and broker to discuss his latest investment, which he would miss because of surgery. He hoped to get his car washed, and buy a new suit before he met with them. Also, he needed a manicure, and he needed to talk to his daughter about her loser boyfriend. It was beginning to get warm outside and he needed to have his swamp cooler serviced. He didn’t have time to be in the hospital for open heart surgery. Time was too precious; he had way too much to do and no time to get it done.
Another thing he needed to do was order a cake for his wife’s birthday. She would be disappointed without a cake, because he had always gotten her a cake.
A pain had been bothering him in his side that he wanted to ask the doctor about. Simon felt sure it was his liver or maybe his gallbladder. According to the internet he had all the symptoms. So not only did he have a heart attack, he was also having an acute gall bladder attack or liver failure. He lay in bed with his head spinning at the thoughts of having so much to do. Simon made up irrational thoughts in his head, but to him was valid. Simon couldn’t breathe and felt light headed. He convinced himself he would have to have open-heart surgery, and he hadn’t t even seen the doctor yet. The doctor came in and told him he suffered only an anxiety attack, and that he appeared to be an over anxious person. A worrier of sorts making up health conditions in his head that were not real. The doctor recommended that Simon find a therapist. He told Simon that if he didn’t change this lifestyle of anxiety and stress that he would have a heart attack.
“But doctor, my life is calm, and slow, I never have a care or worry in the world. How could I have had an anxiety attack? I never let anything bother me.” Simon said.
The End
By Keith Kelly
This is a story of a little boy who had five pieces of magic bubble gum. He chewed them one at a time, blew bubbles, and floated away to a different place each time. Young William had been chewing gum since he had teeth. His grandpa, me, as he referred to as his pah pah always gave him gum to chew. I always had gum in my mouth, and every time William was around, I’d give him a piece. Over the years, it went from stick gum, such as Double Mint, to bubble gum. Bubble Yum was William’s favorite. I taught him how to blow bubbles, and he became a master at it.
“Just hold it in your mouth without chewing, the flavor lasts longer.” I told him this because sometimes he would smack and pop his gum and it got on my nerves. William believed it for a while, but figured out it didn’t make any difference. William considered himself a gum expert. Grape bubble gum was his favorite. He also had his favorite brand. He knew which tasted the best, which one blew the best bubbles, and which had the longest flavor. One day we were walking through town and noticed a new store. It sold magic kits for kids. It had all sorts of cool stuff. The store carried magic top hats, magic wands, and books with magic words. As we were leaving the store, by the register William noticed the gum and candies. He spied a green packaged gum. Green was his favorite color, so of course he wanted me to buy it for him. It came wrapped in green paper with the word, “Gum,” written in yellow across the front.
“What brand of gum is this?” He asked the clerk.
“It is something new we got, it is magic gum,” the clerk said.
“Magic gum? William asked.
“Yep it sure is,” reassured the clerk.
“What does it do? William asked.
“Different things for different kids, but every piece does something different,” the man behind the counter said.
“How many pieces are in it?” William asked.
“Five”, the clerk answered.
Once outside walking home, William asked me, “Is this gum magic Pah Pah?”
“No grandson, the man was just fooling around with you,” I responded.
“Awe,” William sighed.
He already had a stick of gum in his mouth, so he put the magic gum, as the man called it, in his pocket to save for later. Once home William put his pack of gum in the kitchen drawer to save for another day. William spent the night every Tuesday evening. Wednesday morning before I woke, He crept to the kitchen on his tippy toes, pulled the drawer, and opened the pack of gum. As he opened it, he remembered the man at the store said the gum was magic. Here is how William told the story to me, believe it or not.
William put a piece in his mouth went outside to sit on the porch, and blew a huge bubble. He noticed blowing bubbles with this gum was much easier than with other gums he had chewed. He blew a medium size bubble and began floating off the ground. He soon realized that the bigger the bubble he blew the higher and further he’d float. It scared him at first, so he squeezed his eyes shut so that he couldn’t see. When he opened his eyes he found it amazing. He wanted to tell me, but was afraid I’d get upset that he woke early and was outside by himself. The bigger bubbles he blew, the further across the yard he'd float. He blew the biggest bubble he had ever blown and floated down the street.
He wanted someone to see him, but the neighbors were still inside their homes, including me. While in the air, time seemed to stop. William couldn’t remember what happened, it was like he fell asleep and lost track of time. He woke up in a soft patch of grass, in a place that he didn’t recognize. He wasn’t scared at all, not in the least. He didn't know what happened, and wondered where he was, but he wasn’t upset or scared.
William explored around this place. He walked though the grass to a clearing where he saw the strangest looking animals. They looked like dogs, but they walked and jumped like cats. They were nice. They approached him licking his hand. He played with them for a while, and they were so friendly. William grew bored, and his desire to explore the next place became strong, so he chewed a second piece of gum. When it became soft, he blew a bubble and floated over the landscape landing in another strange place. This place was what he thought of as the land of water. William had always loved water, and anything to do with water. I bought him plastic pipes and various hoses of many sizes for him to run water though. William liked to design watering systems for trees. He would connect them all over the yard and attach the water hose to the pipes to see of it would travel to the tree’s.
In this new place there were hundreds of pipes and hoses with water surging through them. They stretched out for miles. He was so excited as he took off running and jumping towards all of the pipes. He said he wished I could have seen this as well. William disconnected these pipes and hoses reconnecting them in various lengths. He re-routed them across the land. They all ended up at huge trees, and a huge garden that he watered. He remembered me saying he’d grow up to be an engineer or something dealing with washing machines, dishwashers, or even vacuum cleaners. William loved all those things. He also enjoyed to messing around with vacuum cleaners and carpet shampooers. Once I bought him a real carpet shampooer and he shampooed all the carpets in my house.
William also had a fascination with clothes washers, dryers, and dishwasher’s. Every chance he got he helped me wash dishes or do laundry. Strange for a youngster of six, but that’s what he loved. William stayed in the land of water and hoses for what seemed like days. He wanted to see what was next, so he chewed his third piece of gum, blew a huge bubble, and floated to the next land. It was a land of dishwashers, washers, dryers, carpet shampooers, and vacuum cleaners. Once again, he was so excited he could hardly contain himself. William opened every washer and dryer studying the inside. He also observed how the hoses connected in the back. He studied how the water sprayed out of the hoses on to the dishes, in the dishwashers. When he was little I’d sit him on the washer and dryer, and he’d look for hours at how the hoses connected. When I took him off the machines, he would cry and cry wanting back up on them to look at how the hoses were all connected.
William chewed his fourth piece of gum, blew a huge bubble, and floated away to the next place. This time he floated much longer than before. He fell asleep and when he woke, he was in a land of huge trees; they were so tall he couldn’t see the tops of them. He loved climbing trees and had a nice one to climb in my yard, which he would climb every time he came to visit. I’d been taking him outside to climb that tree for as long as I could remember. The trees in this land grew branches spaced just right for William’s kegs to reach. He climbed all the way to the top. He could look out and see all the lands he had visited with his magic bubble gum. The Tree’s were so close together he could swing from one to another. William felt exhausted. He climbed once again to the highest tree so he could look behind him and see the four lands he had visited. He knew the fifth and final piece of magic bubble gum would take him home. He missed everyone so he knew it was time to go. Besides, he was craving chocolate milk. He chewed his final piece of gum, blew one last huge bubble, and floated home.
“William, William, wake up, your mom will be here soon,” I told him as he woke up.
“I am so tired pah pah, I didn’t sleep at all,” he said.
“Why not grandson?” I asked.”
“Pah Pah, that gum the guy at the store gave me was magic. I blew bubbles and flew to different places all night long. I went to a land where there were strange animals and I played with them, they were so nice. It reminded me of when I play with my cats and dog. I went to the land of water and pipes, just like when you take me to the Explora Kids Museum. I also visited the land of washers and dryers and looked inside every one of them just like when we go to Lowe’s. Then I went to the land of these huge trees and climbed them just like the one in the front yard pah pah. I could swing from branch to branch like the monkey bars at the park were we go on Saturday’s. Then just like the man said at the store, the fifth piece of gum brought me back home to you pah pah,” William explained.
“That sounds like some kind of dream,” I said.
No pah pah, it was real, it wasn’t a dream.”
“WOW! It was real? I asked.
“Yes, pah pah , it's true, it happened.”
“No wonder you are so tired, you have been traveling all night long. I’ve always told you, you’d grow up to be an engineer, or design damns to hold water. Now I think you may grow up to be a writer and story teller like your pah pah,” I said.
“Like you pah pah?” William asked.
Yep, like me grandson,” I answered.
The End
Four Seconds of Slow Motion
By Keith Kelly
I had heard of the “Oh fuck moment,” when trying to kill yourself. This was the regret one had the instant they let go. Around one percent or less had jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge and survived. That was amazing as the bridge rises two hundred and thirty feet above the bay. That did not scare me because there was no way I would be in that one percent. My life just wasn’t that fortunate. Jumpers hit the water in four seconds at eighty miles an hour shattering their ribs into their lungs. I wasn’t sacred of that either, I looked forward to it. Nothing could match the pain of living my pathetic wasteful life. When I jumped, I didn’t hang on with my hands, I just walked off of. As I predicted, I didn’t have the “Oh fuck moment,” not one bit. To tell you the truth I felt an intense adrenaline rush, because it was finally going to happen. As far back as I could remember, I knew I was going to kill myself, I just didn’t know when. Throughout my life, it was the one and only thing I looked forward to doing. People try to figure out what they want to do with their life. They look for careers, whom to marry, having kids, whatever it may be. It felt empowering knowing I didn’t have to worry over such things. I knew what I wanted to do with my life, end it. I just had to wait for that glorious day. The waiting was my issue. When the day arrived I can’t say exactly what made that day the day, I just woke on my twenty-sixth birthday, and knew It was time.
As I said I didn’t have that “Oh Fuck moment.” What happened instead was in that four seconds which seems short to most, was a lifetime for me. I am sure you have gathered by now, I was in that one percent, imagine that. I survived this jump sustaining two broken legs, which healed well. One thing I can say is its true what they say that in death your life flashes before your eyes, it sure did mine.
As my life flashed before my eyes, the first thing I remember was my body bouncing around in the womb. Of course, I didn’t remember this in my life, but as it flashed before my eyes it was clear. The turbulence so to speak was my mother hitting herself on her pregnant stomach trying to abort me. She never wanted me, I was a mistake. She told me many times in my life that she hit herself in the stomach in hopes of losing me. Neither one of us were so lucky. I never cared for her, I won’t say I hated her, but I didn’t like her either.
Before I get back to my descent from the Golden Gate Bridge, let me share a bit about my mother’s pathetic life. To begin with, she may be the only person ever that is as pathetic as I am. My mother was born depressed, and I would assume scared. Her father, my grandfather sexually abused her daily for years. He was a strange fellow, my grandmother even stranger. By the time my mother was fourteen she suffered from anorexia. She had a lot to contend with. Her mother was a basket case having several nervous breakdowns. I did not care for her either. When my mother was nine years of age, her brother blew a neighbor kids brains out. Not long after, my mother’s grandfather and brother killed themselves. This all happened mother as my mother watched. As a result, mom had anorexia, depression, and mental problems her entire life. She married my father and made him sick. He wasn’t going to leave her, so the only choice he had was to become sick enough himself to tolerate he. She is still alive. She may not be when she hears of my suicide, but oh well, it is what it is.
It is amazing how your life passes in front of your eyes. Near as I could tell, for me it was in n chronological order. I always figured it would be pieces of memories, like pieces of dreams or something, but it was so clear. My next memory was when I was six months old lying on my back in my crib. I was slapping at a mobile hanging above my head. I remember being terrified and anxiety ridden. This particular night my mother hadn't fed me all day. My little body hurt from bruises streaked across my back. I could hardly move, the only way to ignore my pain was to pr-occupy myself by slapping at the mobile.
My next memory was being sexually penetrated by a thermometer. I wasn’t sick, my mother did this to me because this was how she got off. I was one year’s old. I bled so bad, my diaper was full of coagulated blood. She threw me in my crib leaving me in blood until she had to clean me up before my dad got home. My next memory was of my dad, it didn’t last long. It was just his smiling face disappearing. He was prideful coward.
That fall, I swear happened in slow motion. Nothing had ever passed that slow for me. I must have been falling at least at sixty miles an hour. My body flipped and contorted in positions unimaginable, as the time moved so slow. My next memory was the game Space Invaders. This was popular in the seventies and eighties. A spaceship shot at invaders, but there were barricades you had to shoot through to get to the invaders. The more you shot at these barricades the more you chipped a hole through them until they were gone. Since the day I was born, life chipped at my wall until there was nothing left to chip at, and I was gone.
In nineteen seventy-two a semi truck backed up the driveway in Texas as I stood watching. I was four years old, this was my next memory that flashed before my eyes. My dad was transferred from Texas to Arkansas. I remember that moving day because my mother sat in a dark storage room with a kid name Robbie from down the street. What I saw was unbelievable, but it happened.
My next memories were faces of friends I met when I was a youngster. Playing cars, wrestling with friends, and swinging on swings flashed through my mind. I loved swings, I was a good little boy, but my environment destroyed me, I became my environment. People always told me that life is what you make it, that you can’t blame the past, for your actions. Well, if I hadn’t been sexually abused, would I be falling off of this bridge at eighty miles an hour? “I don’t think so.” I got tired of hearing all that shit about how it is what you made it. I didn’t make this shit, someone made it for me. It was all good though because in about two seconds I would never have to worry about it gain. Speaking of playing cars, I loved that as a little boy. Corvettes were always my favorite. I never got one at this point, and guessed I never would. After all, I thought it was too late. Oh by the way, if there was a hell I didn’t think I was going there for doing this. If there was a God he would forgive me, because, he understood. I knew he did.
Nothing about this scared me, staying alive in the world was what scared me. My entire life felt terrifying over one thing or another. Paying bills scared me, people scared me, being alone scared me. I scared me. The sheer anxiety of knowing I may be alone for an hour, a day, or a night was terror. The thought of something happening to my family, or if I got cancer, was too much to bear. Jumping from this bridge was much easier.
The next memory that passed before me was the first time I tried to kill myself when I was fifteen. I was being abused, which I feel was the root of me jumping from the bridge. I don’t remember feeling scared then either, I was elated, and thought I deserved to be free from life for the sacrifice I made living through it that long. Shortly after that, I was baptized in the church. My parents thought that would solve everything. What a sham. I went to church three times a week for years, we all did, my dad went his entire life and still chose not to see, but who am I to criticize, I was jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge.
When a kid, I was a shy kid in kindergarten, never wanting to play with anyone. The teacher told my parents they were concerned because I didn’t play with the other kids. Elementary school was no different I was just there. All my life I’ve been just there. I have always existed, muddling through life waiting to die. Every year BoBo the magician came to my school and put on a magic show. I looked forward to that, except I wanted him to make me disappear and never bring me back. Sad huh? Perhaps this whole situation was sad. I wasn’t looking for anyone to feel sorry for me. I knew people would judge me for this jump, but they had no idea what I went through on a day-to-day basis. Anyway, BoBo was cool, he was good at his performance. He did it all, he made rabbits disappear, he could tell jokes, he made me laugh, and I sure needed it that’s for sure. In fifth grade, I finally felt somewhat normal around the other kids as well as in my head. Normal until one Tuesday morning my mother showed up out of nowhere for parent lunch day. She was so high on pills and passed out walking down the hallway. I was so embarrassed. In sixth grade, I began acting out in a violent manner. I slapped the teacher in the face for asking me to clean up my desk. I went to juvenile for a while.
Seventh grade enters my brain, like I said this was four seconds in slow motion. For some reason I decided to play football. What a joke, I weighed only 90 pounds. I got slammed every day by kids. I was the team fool, ridiculed, picked on, and degraded. I sat the bench all season. Many times, it would be pouring down rain, the field would be a mud hole, and we had cotton white uniforms. Mine was never muddy because I never got to play. My teammates sat covered in mud. I would get handfuls of mud and wipe it on my pants so people thought I had played in the game. Not long after that, I quit sports and began playing guitar and writing poetry and songs. At the time of my jump, I had a novel on the New York Times best-selling list. I was rich. Wonder how my books will sell after this.
I left a suicide note, for what it is worth. My girl will find it in about four hours. Right now, her life was good, that afternoon it would change forever. Did I feel selfish? You may ask. No, because my environment created me. I kissed a girl for the first time when I was in the eighth grade her name was Jesse Strickland. She was cute. The first time I had sex was at fourteen, the girl twelve. It took place in the truck of a friend of mine. Way too young to be doing that. She called me a couple of months later and told me she was pregnant. I guess she wasn’t because I never heard anything else about it. I have dreams every now and again the she actually was. I grew up way to fast, which was typical for someone raised in a dysfunctional family. Believe me, mine was as dysfunctional as one could imagine.
From sixth grade to 12 grades, I had a best friend named Eddie. I spent most of those years at his house, where his family was much more stable than mine. Those years were tolerable. Hitting the water below me wasn’t something I was looking forward to, the pain I mean. The result was what I longed for. Jumping wasn’t so bad. I enjoyed my life flashing before my eyes. As I mentioned I always wondered if it really happened.
Betty, wow! She has popped in my memory. She was my girlfriend the last two years of high school. Like most first loves, I thought she was the one I would spend the rest of my life with. Damn how stupid, now that I look back. Normal for a boy of my age, I guess. All kids deserve to be cool and stupid, it’s part of growing up. High school was boring, I found it meaningless, and it passed so slow. I learned nothing. I went to college as well learning nothing. After I graduated high school I bounced around for a couple of years, which was awesome but it got old fast. I went to college earning my degree in marriage counseling. I married for two years then divorced.
We didn’t get along well. I loved her and she was a tremendous woman, there was just something missing. There had always been something missing in my life. My problems have always been me, not the people in my life. I realize that now. Perhaps I always have. A couple years after my divorce, I met Wilma. She has been the love of my life. At the time of my jump we had been together a year. She didn’t see it coming, she would be devastated, but she was strong and would get through it. True love had been unknown to me until I met her. She had kids, that respected me, and I respected them. They won’t after they find out about this.
This fall was definitely four seconds of slow motion. How could it pass that slow, maybe there was a God slowing this time down. As much as I went to church as a youngster, I never have believed in God, nor the devil. I think there is something after this life, which was what I was soon to discover. If there was nothing, well, at least I wouldn’t know, and would be at peace, no emotional or physical pain. If there was a hell, and I was going there, I was prepared.
You may be thinking, what is this guy’s deal? He has woman that he loves, good kids, why is he doing this? Well my friends, like I said the problem was within, and I had serious ones, it was not the outside stuff. The abusive household I grew up in contributed to it, but I had allowed it to haunt me.
A dim light pierced through darkness.
“This is it?” I asked myself as it drew me closer. “Why isn’t it getting brighter, this can’t be it, can it? This is what I spent twenty-six years hearing about. I always heard the light was bright, even blinding. Peace and no pain prevails is what the Bible says, but I feel the same as before, this is it? What a disappointment. I was taken from my family for this. Oh no, what if this is the other way, but it’s not burning flames, actually comfortable. If this isn’t the bad place, even this is disappointing, because this isn’t that bad.
I hope my wife, and kids get through this.
Wait! I’m not supposed to remember them.
Sadness takes over. My heart feels like it is being
chipped from my chest by a dull chisel.
“I WANT MY FAMILY AND THEY WANT ME,” I holler.
“Where am I, what is this place?”
I remember everything good from my life, my happiness,
but I’m stuck here between the light and dark.
“Did I live wrong? What did I do to deserve this?”
I ‘m suspended like a puppet on endless strings
that disappear above me in blackness.
I’m in some sort of surreal existence.
I am stuck in my own memories.
I have now lost all feeling,
paralyzed and numb, smell and sound absent.
My existence is not of the earth, not of anything.
My mind sharp and clear,
remembering only the people I love.
I can’t remember any bad parts.
All my memories are glorious with my family.
Thoughts so intense almost as if real,
but I can’t move, I can’t get back to my family.
Physically I feel comfortable.
Mentally, I feel insane.
“Whatever you are just take me, take my memory
what are you?”
Everything goes dark around me.
I realize I will never go back.
Suspended comfortably in the darkness,
memory sharper than ever,
forever stuck in my happy memories.
Wait! I know what this is
it becomes clear.
It’s what I have heard about for twenty -six years,
HELL.
My suicide attempt was twenty-four years ago. I am now fifty, and my life is fantastic. I am with the same woman, as then, she stood by my side. My Grandson is ten years old, and most days, people in my life never think about that horrible day. Truth is, most days, I don’t either. I was in a coma for three days when I woke with both legs broken, as well as a few ribs. Why God chose for me to live is anybody’s guess. I don’t question him about it, I just thank him. I can’t say I saw a bright light, or God, or Jesus. I didn’t see any of those things that you hear about. Floating in darkness remembering the good in my life, I suspect was a dream. Everyone in the room said before I woke up, I was kicking and shuffling around in the bed. I don’t even know if I believe people see these things in death, maybe they do, maybe I did, I will never know. I will say this though. When I woke, I was a true believer, and I knew everything I had always heard about the Bible was accurate. I can’t explain it, but it was something I felt, and still do.
I changed my life that day, and have lived it ever since. I don’t go around saying praise Jesus, or God loves, or any of that. I never speak at random about going to church, or what a person should or should not do. I go to church three days a week, pray, and I live by the word, but as I said, I’m not one to go around talking to others about it. I am a motivational speaker trying to help a person live better lives that is all. What I try to do is remind people to believe that what they are doing here on earth counts for something.
After my recovery, I found a church, and began studying the Bible. I read as much as I could. I found myself a therapist and I began a lifetime of hard, but beneficial rewarding work. I will not bore you with every detail of my recovery. Instead, I will attempt to give you hope and strength through the highlight of my work. As I said, I found a good therapist who was compassionate, but tough. She called me on my stinking thinking, but coddled me when I needed it. She began my therapy by taking me all the way back to the womb of my m mother. My mother hitting herself in the stomach trying to abort me was where my trauma began. My therapist showed me how to not blame, nor use my parent’s or anyone else as an excuse to act in negative ways. If I do they continue to win, and I give them my power. I have worked on this issue for the last twenty-four years.
I found a 12-step emotions anonymous group and began going to those meetings. I surrounded myself with healthy people, and take advantage of their support. Within a short time, I learned it was ok to ask for help, and I let my pride and ego go. I surrendered, and turned everything over to God. He is the main factor behind all this. He makes everything possible.
What I would like to talk about now is positivity my life after the jump, and how good living can be. The suicide attempt was a blessing in my life. It paved the avenue to where I am today. Five years after the jump, I wrote and essay, about what I told you when coming out of the coma. Being in a place where I could remember the good times in my life, but couldn’t get it back.
It was an essay titled, “Is this it?” It published and launched my career as a motivational speaker. Shortly after the essay published, a pastor in Savannah Georgia read it, and wanted to meet with me. This man, also helped me to turn my life over, because of him, I am even stronger in the word today.
Today, I am a successful motivational speaker, and I love life. Little did I know many years ago what I thought would end my life started it. By the way, I got my corvette.
The End
The Forest Room
By Keith Kelly
Lying on my back on a sunny day, I looked up through the thick trees as the sun peered through. It was perfect, the tree limbs clothed in leaves shielded the sun just enough not to blind me. It didn’t hurt my eyes at all. The tree branches cut the sun in sections creating rays that burst forth over the roof the woods. Noticing the rays of the sun, I began to wonder how far they could reach. Just because I couldn’t see their light anymore, did that mean they stopped? The woods were so thick at this particular place, that was like a room in the woods that I was a guest in. It seemed as if it were my own little room where I was safe and sound from the outside world. The sun rays were the only view I had to the outside of this room.
I spied two birds and I was sure they spied me as well. They may have wondered what I was doing in their room. I wondered what they were thinking of me having been there. Who knew maybe they liked me there, or perhaps they didn’t even notice. They were chirping so I made up my own conversation between them.
“Who is that human down there?” The first bird asked.
“I don’t know,” the second bird answered. “Should we go down and check things out?”
“Not yet, let’s see what he does first,” the first bird said.
“Humans are strange,” the second bird said.
“How so? The first bird asked.
“Well, they come to the woods for fun, just to look around. We are here to find food and reproduce, that is all we live for. Human’s think that is strange huh?” The second bird asked.
“I imagine so,” the first bird answered.
I laughed to myself as I dreamed up their conversation. I supposed they were communicating in their own way, all creatures do. Nature was something I always loved. I would rather be outside unless it raining or snowing. When I was a kid, I used to look up at the clouds forever. I would see shapes of animals and people. I even saw George Washington once. The warmth of the sun as it found me under the thick canvas of overgrown trees gave me peace and reminded me of looking to the clouds when a kid.
The forest voice I find peaceful and relaxing. I like to close my eyes and listen to the sounds that surround me. Birds chirp near and far. I hear an airplane fly over, and a gnat buzzing in my ear, all while a squirrel scurries through the leaves. I hear myself breathe the breath of life, and think about how wonderful it is. Although complicated at times, it ss a wonderful experience. Do animals know what life is? Do they know they are alive? I have always wondered if they do. Of course, many people are alive but not living. They muddle through life seeking happiness from outside things instead of inside themselves never to find it. That’s why I feel like nature is so important. It’s a connection to my spirit. I love my forest room, the little birds above talking, and all the sounds of this wonderful life.
The End
Stressed Simon
By Keith Kelly
“Where is Simon, my patient? He was just here in his bed,” the nurse said to the orderly.
“Maybe the bathroom,” the orderly responded.
“No, I checked in there,” the nurse answered.
Simon had been down at the gift shop looking for something to buy his wife. He was the person in the hospital, but he was the one buying gifts. He found nothing of interest so he bought a pen and a couple of pencils. He figured he could write a letter or draw to pass the time. He also bought a bottle of water to take back up to his room. Simon grew tired of lying in bed, and waiting for the doctor so he took a walk around the hospital. He had been at the hospital for a day and a half. He got admitted for a possible heart attack which was a mystery, because he always watched what he ate, and maintained a healthy lifestyle. He didn't see how he could improve his lifestyle any more, it seemed perfect. He never even splurged on sweets.
The doctor supposed to come that afternoon to read the EKG machine results. While he waited, he decided to take a walk by the emergency room, and the place was off the chain. Nurses were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were sticking needles in people’s arms and butts; it was definitely a busy day for them. There was a belligerent drunken guy throwing bedpans at the nurses. They were doing their best to maintain the guy, but he was rude and drunk. You can’t ever win an argument with a drunk, Simon thought. There were pillows and piles of blankets scattered all over the emergency room. Nurses were giving patient’s medication left and right. Speaking of, Simon knew he would have to be on medication the rest of his life, which he was not looking forward to.
He couldn't understand why this happened, he wasn’t stressed, and there had been no history of heart problems in his family. The fact of a possible heart attack shocked him. All he could do was scratch his chin, and shake his head at this situation. Maybe if he increased his exercise it would strengthen his heart. Maybe he was exercising too much, he had no clue, but was anxious to talk with the doctor. Simon wondered by the cafeteria thinking he should start eating whatever he wanted. After all, he took care of himself and still had a heart attack. He began to worry about taking medication and began obsessing over increasing his exercise regime.
He went back to his room to make a few phone calls to his office. He had concerns over maybe losing a client, which meant a huge loss in money. He began to feel anxious when talking with his secretary, and in the back of his head what ifs were eating at him. What if he lost this account, what if he lost money? He began to worry even more, and then became anxious that the doctor had not been in. He couldn’t sit still and continuously eyed the door waiting for the doctor. He just knew this delay was because the results of his heart were much worse than the doctor first thought. Simon began to prepare himself for open heart surgery. Tomorrow he had a lunch scheduled with his banker and broker to discuss his latest investment, which he would miss because of surgery. He hoped to get his car washed, and buy a new suit before he met with them. Also, he needed a manicure, and he needed to talk to his daughter about her loser boyfriend. It was beginning to get warm outside and he needed to have his swamp cooler serviced. He didn’t have time to be in the hospital for open heart surgery. Time was too precious; he had way too much to do and no time to get it done.
Another thing he needed to do was order a cake for his wife’s birthday. She would be disappointed without a cake, because he had always gotten her a cake.
A pain had been bothering him in his side that he wanted to ask the doctor about. Simon felt sure it was his liver or maybe his gallbladder. According to the internet he had all the symptoms. So not only did he have a heart attack, he was also having an acute gall bladder attack or liver failure. He lay in bed with his head spinning at the thoughts of having so much to do. Simon made up irrational thoughts in his head, but to him was valid. Simon couldn’t breathe and felt light headed. He convinced himself he would have to have open-heart surgery, and he hadn’t t even seen the doctor yet. The doctor came in and told him he suffered only an anxiety attack, and that he appeared to be an over anxious person. A worrier of sorts making up health conditions in his head that were not real. The doctor recommended that Simon find a therapist. He told Simon that if he didn’t change this lifestyle of anxiety and stress that he would have a heart attack.
“But doctor, my life is calm, and slow, I never have a care or worry in the world. How could I have had an anxiety attack? I never let anything bother me.” Simon said.
The End