When did life become so unwanted? A young boy sat on a park bench in the middle of December pondering just that. He had seen so many people come and go up to that point that he was almost used to it. Nowadays, death seemed inevitable. He no longer had to cry at funerals. To him, they were just get-together's with a coffin or an urn involved. Of the many who had died, few had died of "natural" causes. Sure, only seven were suicides, only three homicides, but many were due to lung disease, HIV, and other killers that could have been easily prevented. The boy got up from his bench, and began walking to a local tailor. He needed a new black suit.
Each year as the boy grew, more of his close friends and relatives took their lives. And each year, he bought a new black suit. One day the boy saw a flyer on a bulletin board for a CPR class. Having nothing better to do, he signed up for the class.
At first, CPR was simply a badge of honor for him. He had a little card from the American Red Cross to keep in his wallet that said that he was certified to perform CPR for one year. But, one day the boy found his way in front of a television set as many young boys do. He flipped through a few channels, then landed on a movie channel that promised lots of explosions. He watched, and was soon engrossed in it. Explosion after explosion occured, never phasing him. And suddenly, his honor seemed greater.
On screen, a small girl lay motionless. Suddenly, the main macho man of the film ran up to her, and began the preparations for CPR. Soon enough, the little girl could move. She would live.
Those thoughts rang out in the boy's mind. Because he was young, he
could shake them away. He turned off the TV, and began a little trip to the center of town. About halfway, near the city limits, he began to get very tired. He noticed a small, wooden box at the opening of an alleyway, and decided to have a seat, and rest his tired legs and feet. As soon as he leaned against the nearest wall, a sound that he
recognized from the movies filled his ears. Gunshots had been fired, and judging from the screaming, someone had been hit.
Being young, the boy was curious. He ran to the area that the noises had come from, barely noticing the shooting pain that now ran up his legs. When he arrived, he saw blood first, and the running gunman second. He watched closely as the man got into a car and drove off, taking special note of the license plate as it said, "I2COOL4U". He always took note of specialty plates.
Realizing the situation, namely that he saw no one else around, the boy ran to a nearby pay phone and called 911. He reported the street names, and the situation, and was asked to wait near the scene of the crime to help the officials find it. Having nothing better to do, per usual, the boy agreed. He returned to the blood and gore, somewhat fascinated. Once he arrived, he looked at the 3 victims. A child, and what seemed to be her mother and grandmother. The girl stood out from the others, and made him feel sorrow for the first time in a long while.
She lay on her side clutching the hand of her "grandmother". She lay
motionless, so like the girl in the movie he had seen. She was the only one of the three who had not been hit by gunfire. The boy decided to see if his CPR training had been worth it. He checked the girl's breathing. When he couldn't feel a breath after five seconds, he began rescue breathing. Then he checked the breathing, and the pulse. There wasn't even a faint trace of either, so the boy began CPR.
The girl's heart finally began to beat anew, and she began breathing on her own. The boy was a bit scared, and his legs were still sore, so he sat down and began to do the one thing that always made him happy. He began to sing a song, making it up as he went along. Today's version was about a frog on a lilypad. He stopped singing when he heard sirens in the distance. He ran to the end of the alleyway and showed the cops who had arrived where to go.
Hours later, the boy finished giving his statement to the police. They told him he could go, so he began to walk home. A voice called out to him. "Wait a moment. I need to give you a message."
He turned around, and was given a piece of paper, obviously torn from a notebook. Written on the paper were words he would cherish forever.
The boy began to think again as he walked home. He could save lives, and with music he could make sad people feel better. When he finally walked into his home, he was greeted to many hugs, and cries of, "Where were you? I was worried sick!", and "I'm so glad you're all right!" The boy apoligized profusely, and told of the day's events. His mother seemed so proud.
Years later, that young boy has grown into a young man. He is looked up to, and is well known as "Taylor Hanson". He makes the music he loves to make, and in doing so, he saves lives, and makes people feel "bunches better". Few people have died since that day, at least ones close to him, but the few that did affected him. He cried now. It let out the pain. It was a game that he wished he had learned how to play a lot sooner. The crying game.
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As stated by Nora Sutton, "Thank you for saving my life, and
thank you for singing. It made me feel bunches better."