October 5, 2009

• Innocent

  Regrets, regrets, regret. Most of the time, the regret that haunts you for a lifetime starts with childish stupidity.

  When Marty's parents warned us about a bear sighting in the area, all sorts of crazy scenarios ran through our heads like endless commercials. Bored boys, meet adventure involving dangerous animals. Hello, Trouble.

  We, as brave and noble citizens, had a responsibility to protect our humble town from bears and other such threats. We oh-so-cleverly designed a trap for the bear at the park, where it would mostly likely hunt for small animals.

  “Let’s dig a hole and cover it with something so that the bear will fall in once it steps on it,” I suggested.

  Marty agreed but added, “Ok, but we have to make sure that only something really heavy will fall in so that nobody accidentally falls in.”

  It seemed like a foolproof idea, so we set our heroic little hearts on it. Every day after school, we rushed to the park and dug at our selected spot. With some tools borrowed from my dad’s garage and plenty of treehouse building experience, we managed to dig a hole as deep as I was tall in just under a month. It wasn’t easy by any means, but we dreamt of glory and recognition as town heroes.

  To cover the hole, we piled on layers of cardboard until we could walk across without breaking through. Now all we had to do was wait for the bear. Day after day, our anticipation of the catch drew us to the park like kids to ice cream trucks—only to find no ice cream.

  Two weeks after we finished our trap, we made another routine check-up of our trap with unsurprising results.

  “What are we doing wrong?” I asked in frustration.

  “Maybe we gotta lure the bear over,” Marty said.

  “Yeah, good idea! Let’s get some bait.”

  We figured that dog food wouldn’t spoil as quickly and should smell tasty to a bear. Within a couple of days, the pile of dog food we placed next to the trap disappeared. We immediately replaced the bait and anxiously awaited further developments, but to our befuddlement, the bait kept disappearing without a bear appearing.

  “I know! The cardboard must be too thick!” I said, “Let’s make it thinner so that the bear will definitely fall through.”

  Both frustrated and curious, we decided to stake out the trap site this time. We met up at the site after dinner and settled into a hidden spot in the bushes with the intention of staying all night if we had to.

  Evening strollers ambled by once in a while, not paying any attention to us or to the trap, but a large dog suddenly approached the trap. The dog must have sniffed out the bait and wanted to have a munch. Marty jumped out from our hiding place and ran towards the dog yelling, “Shoo dog! Shoo!” I was about to help him protect our trap when I saw a little girl with a large woman come from behind. They saw Marty struggling to pull the dog away and hurried over.

  I got up just in time to see the woman disappear from view and hear the little girl scream. I ran up to them and saw a pregnant woman lying unconscious at the bottom of our hole. The little girl continued screaming while we stood frozen for a couple of seconds before Marty came to his senses.

  “Dave, hurry and go get help! I’ll stay and try to do what I can for the mother and the girl. Hurry!”

  I sprinted as fast as I could through the park and shouted to the adults, “Help! Help! Somebody, please help!”

  Luckily, a doctor taking a walk in the park heard me, so I quickly led him to the hurt woman, but it was too late. The woman had a miscarriage. The paramedics arrived shortly after and the doctor told the little girl her mother was going to be alright, but she was inconsolable.

  She screamed, “You killed my mommy! You killed my mommy!” pointing with fear and hatred at Marty. I cried, wanting more than anything to defend him, but all I did was cry. I did not speak. They had no reason not to accept the accusation and share the little girl's hatred towards Marty.

  I was never a bad person. Today, I am a respectable obstetrician...but how I hate myself.

  
  If you read it, please critique it! Thanks =)

  • 10:33 pm
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