Things could have been different

This week's Sunday scribblings prompt is "who else might I have been"....I kind of veered a bit off that path with this story but oh well, hope you enjoy it anyways.

Things could have been different if only they had listened. Come with me if you will to a place that I have no doubt exists. I have no proof, other than to say that I have been there. Well kind of at least.....

Where is this place you ask? I can't say that I know. I got the impression that it is probably tucked away in some small town in the mountains of North Carolina or in the hills of Tennessee. It struck me as some sort of School at first, though in hindsight a camp may be a better way of describing it. Call it what you will it is a place where people gather or are sent because they failed to listen.

I am not surprised that you haven't heard of it at all. I hadn't either until recently. Maybe our Government keeps it hidden like Area 51, or the numerous space ships that they cover up. Maybe they don't want its existence to be known. Whether they do this out of embarrassment, or to protect us from our own fears, I do not know. Perhaps they do so in order to protect its occupants. Like I said, I do not know and it was not made clear to me. At first I was kind of annoyed with myself for not asking, but then again I suspect I wouldn't have gotten an answer anyways. Who knows, perhaps the existence of such a place is just a rumor, or a figment of my overactive imagination. I can't rule out those possibilities, but I really don't think so.

My name is Eric Evans. I first heard about this type of thing as a kid and I have no doubt you have as well. Chances are you were either sitting around a camp fire or huddled up with a group of your peers at a slumber party when you did. At that time, believing in such things was common place, but as one grows older one tends to learn better. With age comes the realization that the boogey man and his friends are nothing more than urban legend. I know the story I am going to tell you sounds far fetched. I know you will think me crazy or wonder how much I have had to drink tonight. For that I can't say that I blame you, but I for one now believe.

I was visited in a dream a few weeks ago. Go ahead, you can laugh, and roll your eyes all you want. Hell, I am rolling them as I type this. His name was Jeremiah, and while I remember the dream quite clearly, I either never saw what he looked like, or my mind refuses to recall. He carried me on a tour of this place. I say 'carried' and that isn't quite right. However, I didn't feel like we were walking either. It was as if we were somehow floating just inches above the ground. I don't know how else to explain it. I could feel my legs working and yet I couldn't feel my feet coming into contact with the ground.

Anyways he beckoned to me and said simply " I will make you a believer."

"what is that?" I asked my host.

"that is wing A."



In wing A, of this school I now know exists somewhere I see a group of mostly normal looking young men. They all look different in their own ways. Some of them have beards. Some mustaches and some are clean shaven. There are those with short hair, blonde hair, black hair, crew cuts, a few sporting the Mr. Clean look and even some of them sporting mullets(hey I said MOSTLY normal).

Some of them were skinny, some fat, some tall, some short, some with six pack abdomens and some with the whole damn keg. All of them however had one thing in common that I couldn't quite put my finger on at first. Then it dawned on me, not one of them stands a bit over 4 feet tall.

"where are we? what are they doing here? What is this place?" I asked, my mind racing with questions.

"Things could have been different, if only they had listened" was his only reply.

The tour continued on to wing B.
Wing B, was full of absolutely stunning looking women that ranged in age from 18 to 50. Some of them are blonde or Brunette haired. Some have brown eyes, blue eyes, or even green. They each had perfect smiles, size 4 waists, and perky breasts that made the male in me happy to be on this trip.

"wow they are beautiful!"

"yes, yes they are but not not one of them will ever go on a single date again."

"What!?" "But,,,,,,but...."

"things could have been different if only they had listened but they didn't. They didn't believe"....

"what, are they doing here?"


"Their parents probably thought they were just shy at first. They urged them to go meet boys instead of the opposite problem that most parents face. Then they probably figured that she was just gay that was why she showed no interest in them. They were totally supportive and they loved her anyways. Being gay however, was not the problem either. These girls all have a secret. A secret they have kept hidden from everyone and always will. Between the petite waists, immaculate smiles, and 34 d's they could indeed have any man they wanted you would think. However you would be wrong and all of them know it without a doubt in their minds."

"why? what is wrong with them?" I asked.

"Things could have been different if only they had listened,but they refused to believe." was his only response.

"listen to what? believe what?"

Ignoring me the tour continued. He led me along a path to wing C of this little school that I have no doubt exists somewhere out there. Wing C, I see, is not filled with super models but instead is full of people that look fairly normal. However, they all appear to be walking around with the weight of the world on their shoulders. There is no laughter. There are no smiles, no small talk or even facial expressions other than pain. On three separate occasions people passed by us looking skyward, and muttering something about begging their mothers forgiveness. All of them looked as if they were either currently crying, or at least had been.

"what is wrong with them?" I asked knowing I would get no answer.

"They are riddled with guilt, They did not listen, They"

"did not believe" I finished for him "yeah yeah I get it, believe what?"



We moved on to wing D. By now I was not surprised to see that wing D was once again filled with mostly normal looking people. Unlike other wings this one was coed. Once again there were people of all ages, women, men, old, young you name it wing D had it. What did they all have in common? They were all blind as a bat.

"Things could have been different if they had only listened, but they didn't." came his now tiresome saying.

"Listen to what?" I screamed in exasperation.

"this is ridiculous, if you are going to talk in riddles then just take me back!"

Smiling at me as if I had a choice in the matter Jeremiah led me along a path into the woods. The woods were covered in a fog more dense than any I had ever encountered. However, the trail he led me upon seemed to be as clear as could be. It was as if the fog was parting before us like the Red sea. A few minutes later we reached a small clearing where several people were gathered around a blazing fire. Some of them I recognized from the many wings we visited that day. Putting his arm around my shoulder he urged me to take a seat on one of the logs placed around the fire burning there. It was an intense blaze that burned with the fury of hell, and yet I could not feel one bit of heat coming from it.

As I watched, one of the young men from wing A, stood up and approached the fire. As he tossed on a piece of wood, sparks shot into the sky like a million little fire flies taking flight. I watched these sparks and soon saw a picture begin to appear. A younger version of this young man shook in terror at the trouble he was in. His mother stood over him, holding a pack of camel cigarettes and shaking a finger in his face. "Don't you know these things will stunt your growth!" she was saying and tossed the pack of cigarettes into the trash can. As the picture faded Joe Camel said "Things could have been different if only they had listened. If only they believed."

Next came one of the beautiful young women from wing B. She among all the others in fact was the one that had really caught my eye. She reached out and poked at the fire with a stick, sending another spray of fire flies into the night. This time, I saw her as she was years ago. I saw what I can only guess was her father holding up a glass of Jack Daniels, gulping it down, and wincing as he slammed the glass back down on the table. With a shake of his head and a hearty belch he declared "whewwww that stuff will put hair on your chest!" The picture then changed to a slightly older version of her looking around as if in fear of being caught. She winces and puts the bottle of Jack Daniels back into the liquor cabinet quickly. I looked over to Jeremiah,

"you mean?"

"yes, more hair than Big foot" he said shaking his head.

As she passed by me from the fire she looked at me and said "I didn't believe".

This procession went on for I don't know how long. There were people who had been warned,

"don't swallow your gum or it will stick to your ribs."

A girl sporting dark sunglasses passed by saying "don't sit too close to the television, or you will go blind". She was arm in arm with a young man tapping a cane back and forth in front of them. He tossed a playboy at my feet. "here, I won't be needing that anymore" was all he had to say.

"step on a crack, break your mothers back" warned one of the miserable young girls from Wing D through tears of remorse.

When it finally ended, they all stood in unison and headed back towards the woods.

"things could have been different if only we had listened, but we didn't" they all chanted as they entered the woods. I watched them disappear and saw the fog close around them like a stage curtain.

"we didn't believe" the trees themselves seemed to say.


There IS a place like this. Of this I have no doubt because there simply must be. A place where people who didn't listen go to suffer the consequences and get along as best they can. Think me crazy if you like or consider it a dream if it makes you sleep better at night. Call them urban legends, or old wives tales if you dare. Go ahead, you can even laugh about it if the urge strikes you. I won't take offense. I for one however, choose to believe because I have been there.

Well, sort of......

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tags:Sunday Scribblings,silly,writing,urban legends,bartender,