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Near Death Experience
There are times in your life when you approach the doors of death, but somehow, you cheat death, and slam the door shut before it can suck you in. These experiences are sometimes categorized as NDE’s or Near Death Experiences. There is the clinical version of NDE in which patients are either comatose or their heart stops, and in their memory, they actually begin the conscious journey from life into the world of “life after death”. The accounts of the NDE from these people generally agree on some specific aspects of the experience, and many describe a bright white light at the end of a tunnel, that imparts a mixture of confusion and joy. The true story that follows does not actually fall into the above category. It is the tale of another type of NDE. It recounts an event that brought me within an inch of that doorway. I’ve always considered it the closest I’ve come to possibly losing my life, even if some might discount it and disagree. And while it may seem banal to someone who wasn’t there, it has remained with me as an important moment on the precipice of my life, and to this day, when I think about it, each second replays in clear vivid color, and a sort of high-definition slow-motion. Cleveland, Ohio 1962: I was 8 or 9 at the time. My brothers and I were in the backyard playing with my brother Chuck’s bow and arrow (Chuck is 3 years my elder and Bobby is two years older). We were shooting at the trunk of a small plum tree, and not getting the arrow to stick very often. It was a combination of bad aim and lack of enough power to get the metal tip to pierce the smooth bark. Chuck's friend Chewey our backyard neighbor strolled into the yard, using the pass-through in the fence, between his yard and ours. Chewey was Chuck’s age, but he was taller than the rest of us, and at that stage in your life, height means authority. He watched our miserable efforts for a few tries and then with a tone of mocking confidence asked Chuck for the bow and one of the two arrows we owned. Chewey: Hey let me see that. Chuck handed him the bow and one of the two arrows we owned. Chewey strung the arrow, and with two fingers, pulled on the string several times, acting as if he were testing its power and feel. Then without warning, he suddenly pointed straight up, pulled the string back as far as it could be pulled, causing the bow to bend from the pressure from the string. His fingers released the string and shot the arrow high into the air above us. We all watched it soar upwards, and then as if in slow motion, it reached the peak of its arc, turned over, and headed straight back down towards us. Somebody yelled: HIT THE DIRT! We all scattered. I dove onto the ground, and assumed the typical bomb threat style we were taught in school during the height of the Cold War, rolled up in a ball with my legs underneath me, and covering my head with my arms. A second later, I heard a loud “phhht”. Unsure of what it was, I uncovered my head just enough to peak out in the direction of the sound. The arrow with its smooth red shaft had pierced the ground, and stood straight up, still quivering from its impact, so close to my eyes, I had to adjust my focus to see it clearly without blurriness. That second of realization was interrupted by howls of laughter by Chewey and my brothers. I soon joined in as I rolled onto my back in uncontrollable laughter. That “bomb” position may or may not have worked if my school had been unfortunate enough to be hit by Russian atomic bomb, but for Chewey’s arrow, I might as well have had a big red and black bull’s eye painted on my back. To this day, I think that’s the only reason he missed. William S. James, aka Son of William Tell |
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Site to promote Freedom Zone fz2878
www.fz2878.com
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