Little White Lies (A Question)

It was Christmas time. The young lad was strolling down the street of the small town with his mum. They turned left under the awning of the pharmacy, leaving two hockey stick shaped paths behind them in the thin dusting of snow.

The young lad pushed the bar across the door with both hands but it did not move until his mum added her strength to it.

As the door swung open a bell jingled overhead. The shopkeeper looked up and gave a smile of greeting. The boy knew what he wanted to purchase so he left his mum’s side in search of the item.

Meanwhile on the highway, Seargant Barnes of the Ontario Provincial Police was responding to a call. He was just south of town when the call came in. A boy had been hit by a vehicle traveling at a high rate of speed. That’s all the dispatcher knew, along with the boys location. Barnes turned on the sirens and headed into town. The engine srceamed louder and higher as Barnes pressed the pedal to the floor and headed north on Bedford Street.

The boy paid for his purchase and the shopkeeper put it into a brown paper bag. It was an Old Spice gift set. The cologne was packaged in a special ivory coloured bottle embossed with a China blue sailing ship.

Mum and the lad walked to the front of the store and exited, the overhead bell jingling once again. The door squeaked closed behind them and they started dropping fresh footprint impressions in the deepening snow as they headed for the traffic lights.

Barnes was picking up speed. It was more dangerous now, with this weather system coming in, but he didn’t know how long the car accident victim had. He was the only cop on duty in the area and had the best chance of anyone to get to him in time. Through the squall of falling snow, he could see the town’s only stop light in the distance. He gripped the wheel tight and continued in that direction.

The lad and his mum approached the intersection. The green street sign above looked festive with a topping of snow that hung over the edge in places. Bedford Street, the sign said.

The lad stepped to within a couple feet of the sidewalk. The pedestrian signal showed a pulsing red hand, but the traffic light in the lad’s direction was still green.

The mum was a few steps behind. She had her head down in her purse, checking her shopping list. She popped up in time to see her boy nearing the traffic light. She closed the distance and reached for his hand.

The lad saw his mom in his peripheral and pulled his hand away. The lad took a step into the street, as his mom’s arm snapped out and grabbed his hand, like the tongue of a frog catching a fly.

She pointed at the now solid red hand on the pedestrian light standard. In a stern voice she spoke.

“That hand,” she lied, “Means that you’re supposed to hold an adult’s hand.”

The child tried to take another step into the street but the mom gripped firm. It was at that moment Sergeant Barnes’ police cruiser blew through the intersection missing the boy by inches.

“Holy shit,” thought Barnes, “I nearly hit that kid.”

He grabbed the radio and requested an update on the condition of the hit and run victim.

Dispatch came over the radio, “Sergeant, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Question: Have you ever been told a lie to keep you safe?

21 thoughts on “Little White Lies (A Question)

  1. This is really well written.
    And yes, my childhood consisted of many lies aimed at keeping me safe. Iā€™m not sure they did, but I know why they did it.
    Personally, I told my kids the truth about everything

    Liked by 1 person

      1. We do the Santa thing too, but I always feel a little bad about it because my kids are so inquisitive. So it’s not that I’m telling just one lie, but everytime they ask a question about it, it’s another lie…

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s