Off the Wings of a Child
By: Lee E. Shilo
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Lee E. Shilo
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Introduction
In my countless years, I have recounted and entertained people with a multitude of strange and sometimes embellished, bizarre stories from my life. Now, as I look back, in the twilight of my years, I find most of it hilarious, interesting, and at the very least, astonishing that I have even survived this long. There have been more than a few requests for me to write a book about my many exploits, and mishaps. I have finally decided to humor them by actually doing it. Every word written is true. Though fabrication is a writers stock and trade, even I could not make this stuff up. For entertainments sake, I have chosen only the most interesting segments of my life and have endeavored to put a humorous spin to each one. So, without any further a-do, here are but a few stories from off the imaginary wings of my childhood flight of fancies, and fantasies.
New Westminster, BC
In chronological order:
Age Five (5)
This is the earliest age at which I can recall easily from my memory. We lived in an up-down duplex, at the top of a very long, skinny stairway, that was I am sure, way to steep for the city bylaw ordinance. My height was about three (3) feet tall at that age, and I could barely reach the doorknob at the top of this perilous incline. I was always very small for my age, so small in fact, that my mother feared that I was going to grow up as a Little Person. After a long, tough climb to the top, I would stand on my tip-toes just to reach only half of the doorknob. Most times, I would have to jump up and dangle in the air, to turn the doorknob in order to open the door. One time I missed and fell backwards, tumbling down the long stairs.
I cannot remember the journey itself, nor the pain of bouncing off each and every step on the long fall down. I do however, remember waking up at the bottom of the stairs, quite ruffled and in pain, but otherwise completely fine. That was the first and last time I missed the doorknob! This was the age that I did a lot of things that I shouldn't have, and tried never to repeat them. Luckily for me my mother graduated with double honors of both Psychiatric and Registered Nurse. She was home that evening. I was playing on the top of the bunk-bed in my bedroom, with a very long plastic pickle stabber I had absconded from the kitchen, in the form of a mini-sword. Imagining my prey not far from me, I crawled on my stomach, inching towards it. My sword was ready and sticking straight up in the air, as I grasped it firmly in my fist. One slip was all it took. Down went my head, and up went the pickle stabber, straight into my mouth. Blood began squirted with every word I spoke, while screaming at my mother incoherently.