TRUE STORY:
Monday after school last week, I decided to go for a bike ride. I rode to the park by my house, an extensive one with a nice bike trail. I was out alone, so I knew to be careful. Avoid biking behind the hill where no one could see me. Pay attention to creepy looking men. Notice if someone is following me. Keep my phone in my pocket. After all, this was the day after Halloween. I saw too many horror films that weekend, including Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. The terrified mode remained in me, especially because SVU is so realistic! So I’m at the park, biking around, enjoying the crisp cool air. I parked my bike at the bottom of the stairs climbing up the hill, and I jogged up. I stood at the top of the hill and stared off into the horizon, taking in the beauties around me. The forest, the noisy highway, the visible roofs from the neighborhoods, my old middle school. Then I saw a middle-aged man wearing a black shirt and sunglasses walking up the hill, and we made eye contact. So I ran down the hill and continued biking. One more lap and I’m going home, I decided. As I was riding by the pond around a soccer field, my attention turned to a dark bundle on the grass, about 20 feet away. My vision isn’t very good and I wasn’t wearing my glasses, so I had a difficult time making out what I was seeing. As I slowly rode past, I thought I saw feet and a face peeping out from a thick black coat. The length was that of a toddler lying down with his knees bent. And the object stood perfectly still. I continued biking, putting together thoughts of what I had just observed. Why would a little boy be lying down on the grass alone? There were other people walking around the park, so I thought that there was probably nothing wrong. But as I headed home, a question hit me hard: What if it’s actually a dead kid?! I felt as though I was witnessing what is always witnessed in SVU, but without the camera and set in the background. This was reality, and I noticed all the creepy men walking around the park earlier. I considered turning around to check out the object, but then I thought, if that’s actually a murdered child, I would be scarred for life with fear. I don’t need to do anything; there are other people to take care of these things. But as I rode up my driveway, morals took over me. If my child was lost and possibly killed, I would want to get as much information as I could. I would want witnesses. So I walked into my house and explained what I saw to my mom and brother Avi. I asked Avi to bike back to the park with me to check it out, because I felt safer there with my brother. And two heads work better than one. When he finished his sandwich, we left the house, with my mom’s last words of, “if it’s actually a dead kid, don’t touch him!” She said it so casually, too. Off we went, with much nervousness and anxiety. I pictured myself calling the police, getting interviewed, being thanked for my help, and becoming a hero. I would have been the talk of the school, a local celebrity. I would go back to school the next day as a new person, telling everyone my crazy experience. I would be on the news, describing in great detail what happened. Finally, I reached the spot where I saw the clump. It was no longer there. The field was the same as it had always been. Avi and I biked the entire park, looking for signs of murder. Nothing. No blood, strange footprints, strange hairs. I returned home in great disappointment.
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