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.

A short story from Fables of Good Will

A man was walking down the street one day. It was a small, quiet town. He was caught up in his thoughts as he kicked a few pebbles beneath his feet. When he passed the little well by the village gate, he began to hear a gentle whimper. The nearer he got, the whimper grew into a cry and the cry, into a yell. He came close to the well and looking down into its depths, he could not see anything. When he raised his voice, calling into the well, the response came immediately. It was a weakened yelp. The man could not see. A dog? A calf? He quickly rushed back to the town and gathered a number of others who could help. And quickly gathering some supplies, a ladder, a basket and a rope, they rushed back to the well. The man called back and received a response. The response this time was weak and even more frightened than it had been. The group gathered around the well could hear the splashing of the water as the animal struggled. Slowly, then and cautiously, the man, aided by the others, lowered the basket, which they had hastily but efficiently tied to the rope. When the rope on the basket stopped descending, they heard an excited cry and suddenly, it grew taut. The group, quickly lifted the rope to the top of the well. What they saw when the basket came in sight surprised them. It was a child! He was panting and crying now. When the basket had been completely hoisted out of the well, the group placed it on the ground. The child, no more than five years old had clearly been terrified. When he surveyed the group, he burst out in tears and held out his arms. The man lifted him up and held him, stroking the back of his head. That moment, the group started to hear other shouts. This time from the village. After a couple of minutes, a woman came running up the hill to the group. She saw her child and rushed to the man who handed him to her. She didn’t know what had happened. The group collected their tools and dispersed. The man stood at the well for a moment, watching the mother as she carried the child down the hill. The child was weeping still but through his tears and over his mother’s shoulder, he looked up to the man, standing on the hill and smiled warmly to him.

This is the first short story in my collection of short stories called Fables of Good Will.