A Short Story from Fables of Good Will:

Since she was young, she had a passion for helping people. Once, as a child, she had volunteered her help at a soup kitchen. The parents, teachers and friends thought that it must have been simply a phase, something that she was experimenting with. This trait only grew with her as she aged. And though, now as an adult, she was engaged in many other endeavors, she still volunteered her time at the soup kitchen every Friday. One Friday, after spending time with those in the soup kitchen, she was driving home across the bridge that connected the two busy parts of the coastal city. Her eyes spotted in terror a man who was standing along the ledge of the bridge. To the water below, there was a long drop. The closer she got, the more frightened she became. She watched in horror as other cars, passed quickly by, some even honking. There was no stopping along this bridge and so as she neared the man, she slowed down the car. It was too late. He had jumped. She broke into tears and stopped the car, running out to the ledge, looking into the swirling current beneath her. The cars collecting behind her car on the bridge were honking. She was terrified. That evening when she got home, she was still crying and sobbing as she called the police. “I want to report a suicide.” The police asked her where it occurred and what happened. And after she answered, her horror grew as the police officer told her that this was common. That this sort of thing happened all of the time in the city and that there was nothing they could do. Nothing they could do? Common? She could not believe those responses. She could not accept them. And so, she went on her computer and typed in to the search engine, ‘bridge suicides in the city’. She wept with what she discovered. She never knew. On the screen, came a photo of a missing person. She recognized the person. He was a regular at the soup kitchen. She closed her computer and got out a large pack of paper and a dark pen. On the paper, she wrote in large letters a different message on each. On one, she wrote, “You’re valuable. Don’t ever forget how important you are.” And on another, “Don’t give up. Things are getting better all of the time.” Afterwards, she placed each sheet of paper into a plastic covering and drove back to the bridge. It was very late then and there was little traffic. The cars that would pass could simply go around her car. Until, on the bridge, she stopped every fifty yards and stapled the posters up on the ledges. Afterwards, she returned home and slept. She knew the posters would be torn down by the city in time. She did not care. She would continue putting up the signs if she had to. A couple of days later, she was at home watching television when the news came on. She was surprised to see that photos of her signs were being aired and the reporter was speaking to two young people who were saying how they were going to commit suicide the night earlier. That was until they came across one of these signs. The two young people started to cry. “Whoever created these signs, we just want to thank you. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts. You saved our lives. Things do get better.” She turned off the television and smiled warmly as a tear fell down her cheek.