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Easter - Evergreen Street |
I was between six and eight years of age, living on a street called "Evergreen" about two blocks from Humboldt Park. A neighbor kid, older than me, decided to play "Indian" with his new toy bow and arrow. The wooden arrow had a rubber suction-cup at the end. Problem was he had previously removed the rubber cup at the end and sharpened the end of the wooden arrow's shaft with a pocket knife. By sharpening the end it changed the diameter of the wood which made the rubber cup fit too loosely. As I approached he drew back the bow and let loose the arrow aiming for my chest. It was a weird moment because it seemed that time had suddenly slowed. I saw the arrow flying through the air which was faster than what I was seeing with my eyes and my brain conceiving it, and in midair the rubber cup fell off and the sharpened wood arrow struck me in the chest just below the collar bone. And there, much to my shock and I guess the kid's, an arrow is sticking into my chest and the weight of it (because it did not go deeply) it hung there. After removing it, and I don't remember the details whether I went up to our apartment to announce that I had been shot by an arrow and how it happened - my father came storming down to the sidewalk and by that time the kid had run home realizing the stupid thing he did, standing with his father. My father said some angry words, pointing to the superficial wound on my chest, yelling something to the effect how stupid his kid was, grabbed the bow from the shocked kid's hands and broke it into pieces. It was the end of that drama. I never held a grudge against the kid, but it seemed not long after the family wasn't there anymore.