TEQUILA: A VERY SHORT STORY

A very short story about the weight of being a witness. Inspired by a real event from my past and a painting by F. Scott Hess.

Warning: This story contains themes of trauma and a tragic accident involving a child.

TEQUILA

Tom often looks back and painfully evokes the feelings he imagines invaded the child's mind as the fire relentlessly pushed her onto the balcony – the bewilderment, the fear, the agony – and inevitably ends up wondering if there was something he could have done to save her.

The rational part of his brain is aware that there was nothing he could have done to prevent the terrible outcome – unless, perhaps, he were Superman or knew where to find and how to operate a time machine.

But he was just a guy drinking by the hotel pool with his dog. Tequila barked the alarm. The little Chihuahua was the one who noticed something was wrong – unfortunately, not in time for any human to do anything about it.

When Tom, fighting through his booze-induced haze, finally realized there was a child on a balcony up on the fifth floor, the end of that story had already been written.

It was not Tom's fault the hotel fire alarm system had malfunctioned. It was not his fault the little girl's parents had left her alone in the room that evening while they gambled away their money at a nearby casino.

It was not Tom's fault – everyone seems to know it and insists on telling him so – but he has stopped trying to reason with the vortex inside.

In his mind, the girl keeps jumping.

Tom didn't know a child could do such a thing.

He could never have imagined that the sound of a small body hitting concrete slabs would make the world stop – his world, at least, empty as it was – and now he can't restart it.

There's not enough tequila in the universe for that.

The little dog seems to understand.

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Thank you for reading 

TEQUILA: A VERY SHORT STORY.

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ORIGIN STORY

Almost 20 years ago, when I was still living in a big city, I heard something that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.

It was a sunny day, and I was at the computer in my study – on the seventh floor of a modern building – writing some story; I can’t remember what it was. Suddenly there was a noise… a thud. Something heavy hitting the pavement. Even before the screams, I felt that something terrible had happened.

I didn’t see the body. My flat was high up on the seventh floor and a row of trees mercifully hid the site of the tragedy. But the eeriness of that sound… it sticks with you. You know instinctively that it was not a book falling to the ground.

Later that day, I was told what had occurred: a woman had fallen from the fifth floor of the building on the opposite side of the street. There were other details, but I will not share them; they don’t belong to me or to the story.

Several years after that tragedy, I came across a painting by F. Scott Hess and this story just appeared in my mind. So I guess "Tequila" is also my way of dealing with what I heard that day and will never forget.

This story has been published before, including on Amazon, and now it’s here on the blog. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it.

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Photo: Canva

Painting: F. Scott Hess