Paradox
đď¸ July 27, 2020 đ 6 min read
I wrote this back in 2010, back in high school. This relates to a concept that I can make better sense of these days and is a lot closer to my heart. I have edited only ever-so-slightly, for style. However, the original text and feeling is very much intact.
Bear in mind this is Grade 10 Jess stuff.
Excitement was nearing, but it came contrary to my expectations.
I climbed into Dadâs old grey sedan, closing the door abruptly. Fat droplets of rain drilled into our windows with such force that I thought they would penetrate the glass. We slowly began our descent down the road. Bolts of electricity shot down from the sky.
âFaster,â I urged him. âIâm really late.â
It was Jackâs annual Halloween Hide and Seek Bash. He held it every year at the Holley House, a mansion dating back to the 50s that was rumoured to be haunted. It was a knockout last year, and the anticipation surrounding todayâs party was pretty crazy. Mother Nature definitely played to our advantage today; it was dark, misty and the thunderstorm set the frightening mood. As the ride progressed, the weather worsened as well. Our rusty car would occasionally slide a bit, swerving on to the next lane.
I glanced at the digital clock flashing on the dashboard of the car. It read 10:17. Iâm over an hour late. The opening festivities were already over by now.
âHurry,â I told him. My father pressed the acceleration pedal.
The Holley House was quite far from my house in the suburbs; probably a thirty minute drive on a good day. My father tried to initiate some light conversation, but talking wasnât on my mind. We were not so close, but he was a good father. More recently, I noticed him trying to talk and get to know me a little more - maybe because I was a little older now. Bored, I turned on the radio. An energetic pop song was playing.
âShortcuts, shortcuts. Living on the fast lane. Getting there is half the-â
The music fizzled to a stop. Then the sound of static filled my ears. But the few lines of the song were already enough for me. A plan bubbled in my mind.
âHow about that shortcut down Manor Creek?â
My dad didnât answer.
âItâs a bit dangerous⌠especially at this time of night.â
I persisted, and after a while, he reluctantly agreed. Manor Creek was really fast. It would probably save me fifteen minutes.
Jenny would be there. Perhaps if I didnât take so long preparing myself in the mirror to impress her tonight, we wouldnât be late. Maybe it is my fault. She told me that she wanted to break up with me yesterday and wished that I would die. She was overreacting like she usually does, but I feel like I can fix things tonight. I flipped down the vanity mirror in the front and wrinkled my forehead. I look fine, I suppose. Maybe I was too generous on the hair wax, but you couldnât tell in this light. My hair looks better parted to the â
Suddenly, the car rocked. I could feel myself being plummeted off my seat and almost crashing into the dashboard. The seatbelt jerked me back and the airbags in the car went off. The car slid⌠The car slid into the creek, dragging chunks of rock, soil, and branches down with it. I could feel the car flipping over; I held on to my seat with an iron grip.
Please donât let me die today. I really donât want to die today. How selfish was I? Just all-consumed with getting to a party. And now weâre 20 feet in the air, falling. Heading straight for the rocks. Iâm going to die. And Dad too, because of me. At least Jenny got her wish.
I closed my eyes. Perhaps if I never opened them, I wouldnât even know that I died. I clenched my teeth, preparing for the collision. When we hit the ground, the car crumpled under the force we fell at. The window shattered and shards of glass pierced my skin.
I think Iâm dead. But, Iâm still thinking. I canât manage to open my eyesâŚ
Ken Robinson and his son were driving on a late Halloween night through the infamous Manor Creek. Ken was pronounced dead on the scene, while his son, Arthur was rushed to the hospital for immediate medical attention.
The nurse hated working here. It was too stressful, all the time. She constantly felt she was on the verge of burning out. She inspected his heart rate, her fingers trembling. She was a new transfer to the emergency department, and still felt oozy at the sight of blood. Arthurâs heart rate was a bit slow but perhaps there was hope. She needed to move fast.
She pushed him hastily into the emergency room. She locked eyes with the doctor who stood agape at the door frame, frozen. She looked to the ground hesitantly.
The doctor was hard to read to her, a little stern and always seemed to wear a disapproving, cold look. But this time, it appeared to be a little more serious. Maybe she detected a hint of emotion. Did she do something wrong?
âAre you alright, Doctor?â
Life stopped momentarily.
âI canât operate on him.â
The doctor tried to keep a cool demeanor, but struggled to choke out the words.
âWhy not?â
âThis is my son.â
A cold, uncomfortable silence sheathed the operating room.
Dr. Lisa Robinson attended the funeral, clutching a bouquet of red flowers, tears streaming down her face. No one expected the swift turn of events.
Maybe you noticed something about this story that felt odd or confusing to you. Maybe you didn't.
Whatever your reaction was, the intention behind writing out this story is to indulge this famous riddle, or âparadoxâ of sorts. When I first read the riddle, I had a similar reaction to what this article here outlines. I was surprised (maybe disappointed) in my response, maybe you were with yours as well.
Itâs important to acknowledge these unconscious biases and work towards minimizing them. Itâs difficult, but we can all do better.