The body

Convoluted and twisted, the body lay there, recognizable but barely.  Life was still present, as was evident by the occasional yet pained gasp for breathe.  Most who passed by gave it little consideration.  It couldn't honestly be said that they didn't see it, but time and calluses allowed for disregard to seem almost normal.

Occasionally, one or two would stop, check for a pulse and then move on.  On even lesser occasions, some would stop, speak into the ear and even lie down with it, mimicking its motion. But eventually they too would rise and move on.

But then came Gene.  He kind of appeared out of nowhere, no one knew his parents or his background, but he smiled a very large smile and shook a great handshake.  Gene lay down next to the body and began to speak.  At first, most felt awkward with Gene's words, but eventually the familiarity became trust and Gene and the body seemed as one.

Eventually, more people sat down near the body and near Gene and listened.  No one noticed, but the body had stopped making the struggled gasps, in fact it made no motion whatsoever, but Gene's great smile and warm handshake distracted the occasional question.  

The group eventually outgrew the width of the sidewalk and started to take up space on the lawn.  Chairs were brought in and a light lunch began to be served each day, around one o'clock.  Some complained about the occasional worm, maggot or pocket of mold, but most began to smile Gene's smile and warm handshake.  Sometimes, some would lie down next to the body and simply wouldn't get up.  Gene called these the faithful ones.  

Eventually, the administrators of the hospital, upon whose grass the gathering of people began to sit upon, had to call the police.  The crowd was dispersed, Gene was taken into custody and the now motionless, breathless and rotting bodies, were taken away and buried.

The hospital continued its work of helping the helpless, feeding the hungry and healing the sick.

Third gear

William turned sixteen on the following Wednesday and he highly suspected something grand.  He had been working very hard for the last two years, milking cows and scraping manure.  He had saved up as much money as a fifteen year old reasonable could and now he suspected that his father would pay for half of his car.

Wednesday came and he ran home, and there it was, a red 2000 Ford Mustang.  Rounding the corner of Chestnut and Fourth, he saw the car and let out a whoop, much to the elderly Mrs. Johnson's chagrin.  William bolted through the front door, stepping on the cat and knocking over a dining room chair as he ran to his father's study.  The keys were already in the air toward his approaching excitement and William caught them.

"I only have l one rule, besides the obvious, young man, don't go past third gear."  "Deal", William said, and hugging his father ran back out the front door. 

Dinner time came and went and the family had no word from William.  Mother was getting worried, father was getting upset and William’s sister was already planning on moving into William's room.  The phone rang around 7:30 pm and mother had it off the cradle before the first ring finished, ready to lay out her tirade on responsibility and concern for others, already internally recited one hundred times.  But unfortunately, her scowl transformed into tears, handing the phone to get husband.

The police said it appeared that the car had reached well over 120 mph when it hit the ancient oak tree on the corner of Maple and 47th.  The odd part though was that William was not in the car, in fact, no one was in the car, which was of course, an impossibility.  Cars don't drive themselves.  Search and Rescue was scouring the area but so far had found nothing.  There was no blood, no head strike on the windshield and the seat belt was still buckled.  William was gone.

The gift given by his father was the very thing that moved William into the realm of mystery and fame.  Accomplishing what no one else had.