WP DP…CHANGE is not always good

I had blocked this out and I had not noticed I had stopped thinking back to that day and the ones that followed…

that day changed my life until I resolved to get my old life back…because after this, old was good…

but now that you’ve mentioned it, damn it, it’s come back…

I’ll treat it as a memory and nothing more…

I was walking down the street on my way to a class. I did this twice a week. It was Mexico City. A city like other big cities, millions of people walking even running in opposite directions all at the same time, I mostly strolled not having identified still the cracks in the pavement where I could easily trip, so I strolled looking ahead and looking down, being careful at every step I took, I had already fallen and hurt my ankle once…

That day did not feel any different, really, it’s not like they say, “there was something in the air…” or “I woke up feeling something indescribable…” none of this… same old, same old… walking down MY street because that was the only street I knew and walked on feeling confident, with a sense of ownership of the pavement I walked on… thinking and praying and reviewing my days to come, looking up and then looking down… a paper airplane hit my shoe… wow, such timing…I could never hit my foot with a paper airplane even if I was sitting still, in fact, I think I don’t know how to make a paper airplane, I thought as I picked it up…

I noticed some harsh scribbles on it, I have always been wary of reading others’ stuff, but, SHIT, I opened it, DAMN IT, I f&*^ing opened it and read, “voltea para abajo” look down… is what it said, that was all, so I looked down, innocent enough, right? WRONG… there I saw a young man about 18, my age, he looked scruffy, quite dirty, his blood-shot eyes looking straight at me… oh shit! I thought, he just put his finger to his mouth signalling me to keep quiet and he said through a crack in the class, “me tienen secuestrado, vuelve maÑana, no digas nada por favor!” I am being held for ransom, please come back tomorrow and don’t tell anyone! …I stood there and saw him one more millisecond and he disappeared into the darkness of that damn basement…

I had never felt curious as to what could be behind those small windows so close to the sidewalk, I’d ask myself how the people or whoever used that space managed when it rained, surely the water cascaded in…

I had no class the next day and had no real reason to go by that street… I am not a curious person when I feel finding the answer might get me in trouble, so 98% of me told me to avoid my common route to class, to find another way there, that this man would make another paper plane and have another perfectly timed collision with another foot, the foot of someone who can do something for him, someone who won’t have an over-active mind and make up a zillion things that can go wrong, someone who will know what to do and how to be of help, because honestly I could really f&*& this up for him and for me…

Why did I look down?

The next 24 hours, because time started when I saw him and ended when I was supposed to be back at that exact point, went by slowly, though in retrospect, it went by too quickly, I didn’t have a chance to make a plan… I didn’t go… yeah, I didn’t goooooo… and stayed in my room feeding my guilt and fear with terrible thoughts…

I woke up, 48 hours had passed, I needed to go to my class… would I find another route? Shit, this was MY street, the only street I “owned” in this whole city… maybe he won’t be waiting anymore… maybe someone else has helped him by now… or maybe he is waiting for me… God, did you put me there? Am I meant to help him? You know my life is in your hands, so you made this happen and now it is mine to live through and see this come to an end…

The next day, I took my customary route to class, yeah, I went back… and yes, those blood-shot eyes were there… oh how I hoped they wouldn’t be… I made it as if I had dropped some stuff from my school bag and kneeled right in front of the cracked glass, “volviste, nadie ha vuelto, estoy por saber donde tienen a mi hermano, vuelve cuando puedas, ayudame!” you came back, no one has come back, I am about to find out where they have my brother, come back when you can, help me!…I stood up and walked away with his words echoing in my mind…

My next class was in four days…

Four days were enough for me to drive myself crazy with this…

It seems I got home and fell asleep, my mom says they had to wake me up and feed me, they ultimately had to take me to the hospital…

I’d open my eyes but made no eye contact with anyone…

They say tears would stream down my face constantly and that I had this worried expression on my face…

My best friend stayed with me by my hospital bed, talking to me, reminding me of our many laughs, she says she stopped her rambling when she heard me mumble, “Dios mio, ayudalo…yo no puedo, por favor Tu ayudalo” God help him… I can’t do it, please help him… she felt scared but she gathered all her courage and started gently asking me questions as if she was God, this is the only funny moment in all this, I am glad I can laugh about it, leave it to my bestie, “A quien quieres que ayude hija mia” who do you want me to help my child? “al chavo del subterráneo, camino a mi clase, acuerdate” the boy living in the basement, on my route to class, you remember him… “Que le sucede?” what is wrong with him? “esta secuestrado, ayudalo” he is being held against his will, help him…

…the questions stopped, she ran to my parents who were outside talking with the doctors and said, completely out of breath and almost hyperventilating, “Ya se que tiene!” I know what’s going on… “esta hablando de un chavo secuestrado…” she’s talking about a young man… and she told them all I had said…

My dad took care of the rest…

That is it, I don’t know anymore, I have no idea who the guy was… I don’t know if he was set free… my dad is OK, though I worry…

I don’t want to talk about this anymore…

this is a completely fictional story that popped in my mind when I read the Daily Prompt: 

Walking down the street, you encounter a folded piece of paper on the sidewalk. You pick it up and read it and immediately, your life has changed. Describe this experience.

Hope you enjoy it…hugs people🙂

Yikes, I got caught in the story, my heart is still racing… having lived in Mexico City twice and receiving that horrible call… this kind of came naturally

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16 responses to “WP DP…CHANGE is not always good

  1. thank you Stu! The thing is, the story was taking me into ugly terrain and I was having this uncontrollable reaction, my heart was pounding and my hands were shaking a bit, so I just cut it short, though I had the whole story in my mind… So weird, I got caught in the plot and since it is something that happens so often in my country, well, it got emotional:/

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  6. I’m sorry there is no ending… the thing is that in reality these cases rarely have a positive outcome, so I stopped before I got into the ugly details of our terribly faulty judicial system because that is the way the rest of the story was going… however, since the main character was hospitalized she knows little about what came next, so I could very well continue with it, right?! jajajaaaa… I need to check some typos:/ Thanks Belinda, with these encouraging words I just might continue… big hug

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