The Silly Girl and A Story That Lingered

In my school days, the English teachers used to select good short stories, print them in A4 sheets of paper and hand them to us for reading. We got assignments along with it – questions to test our comprehension of the stories.

I loved reading these curated short stories. They were little windows of opportunity for me to escape the tedium of school. One teacher chose stories particularly well so I always looked forward to them. I wish I remember who she was.

One story stood out.

I must have been 12 years old that year. As usual, the teachers gave us a bunch of stories to read, and one of them was about this kid who nearly got hit by a car crossing the road on his way to school.

Following his close shave, he had the weirdest day in school. Everyone was giving him the cold shoulder and acting like he wasn’t there.

I don’t remember what happened next. Did he leave and go to the park to play? Maybe he got home and everyone was crying? Whatever it was, and I’m sorry for forgetting, he realized that he didn’t have a close shave that morning. The car hit him and he died.

He pinched himself then, it didn’t hurt, and that’s how he knew he died.

It was really a simple story with a common premise, but to a 12-year-old it was relatively new. This was also a year before The Sixth Sense. (I don’t have to do a spoiler alert for a 21-year-old movie, do I?) Without a synopsis and any expectation of the story, I did not see the “twist” coming. I wasn’t particularly fond of it either. Nevertheless, the story stuck, and it planted a superstition in me.

For years after that, after I crossed a road, I pinched myself.

You know, one can never be too certain that one hasn’t died from a traffic accident. Heh, go ahead and judge me. :p

It’s not that I believed the story, but I entertained the idea of “what if it does happen?” In my defense, I was young and impressionable.

I thought it’s worthy to note that I wasn’t worried about getting hit by a car since I look before I cross, but I was concerned about that slim possibility that I got hit and died and didn’t know it. I can’t figure that part out.

If I have to come up with an explanation, I’ll have to say it’s a primal instinct to want to know your vital status. Like if I died, I want to know about it! It just seems sad and weird to not know. I imagine it’ll be like turning up at a school you enjoyed going to after you’ve been expelled. There’s a feeling of intrusion about it. After all, you no longer belong there.

Fortunately, these days, I suspect that when one dies, it’s like going into a dreamless sleep. So I’ll be okay.

I still do that once in a while – pinch myself after I cross a particularly busy road. But these days it’s for old time’s sake, almost like an old habit.

These days, it’s an action that reminds me of the innocence of childhood, and the power of a well-told story to linger in our minds. It still amuses me. 🙂

Is there a story you came across in your life that lingered in your mind? Tell it in the comments, please!