Short Story

The Swing of Death

“I’m stuck” I cried out.

  “What do you mean your stuck” exclaimed my mom in a worried tone. 

“I’m stuck, I cant get out!”

 My mom quickly got up from the bench she had been sitting on near by and hurried over.  She attempted to pull me out of the swing that looked much like a diaper with two holes for your legs, but I wouldn’t move.  My fat, or husky frame, as my mom liked to call it, had me wedged in the swing tighter than the finest sailors knot.  Her multiple attempts to try and pull me out were to no avail. 

“My God you are stuck, don’t worry sweetie we are going to get you out, let me just call your father real quick” stated my Mom in her nursing tone of voice. 

The weather was perfect, if God vacationed down to earth this would surely be the day he had picked.  The sun sat happily in the sky, without a cloud in sight.  It would have been a hot day if it weren’t for the cool refreshing breeze that seemed to come every time your body prepared to produce a drop of sweat. .  I had been nagging my mom since I had awoken that morning to bring me to Sunrise park, a park near my house that we had been to many times.  It was paradise on earth as far as my eight-year-old mind was considered.  With its dirt trails that brought you deep into the exciting wilderness, ponds filled with pumpkin fish that were a thrill to catch, but taking them off the hook was sure leave you with  a tiny cut on your hand, and a beautiful playground filled with multicolored slides, swings and other climbing contraptions.  The perfect place for my imaginative eight year old mind and body to run free, free of the rules of school, family and life.  I would pretend I was Robinson Crusoe navigating my way through the jungle one moment and the next a captain of a mighty schooner steering my boat through the rough seas.

 I didn’t have any problem getting in the swing.  My mom lifted me off the ground and put me in the swing and as I gleefully started to kick my legs in a new motion I had learned as “pumping”.  It was great, I didn’t have to rely on anyone pushing me and plus I could go as high as I wanted too.  I wasn’t over the age limit for the swing either, the sign for the playground specified no one over the age of ten was allowed in the swings.  “Lift your hands up like your reaching towards the sky” my Dad instructed.  I did as he asked as his strong hands grasped my hips and pulled as hard as he could.  Nothing.  He tried again this time in a bouncing motion, alternating hard pulls with side to side pulls.  Still nothing, I was seriously stuck in there.  “Jesus” he groaned “your really in there good”.  “Mommy I’m scared” my imagination started to take hold of me as I pictured myself stuck in the swing for the rest of my life, growing old in the swing having to have my parents bring me food and water just to survive.  “Don’t worry sweetie, we are going to get you out” my mom confidently stated.  “Call the fire department” my dad directed.  My mom walked over to her purse and went to dial the number on her phone while my dad stayed close and attempted to comfort me.

  Luckily no one else was in the playground to witness this embarrassing series of events that had transpired, well not yet anyways.  “Yes hello, no there is no fire sir I was just calling you to ask for your help as my son is stuck in a swing” my mom explained to a very confused fire dispatcher.  “Well mam we have never had a call like this before but I will be sure to send a unit right over” the dispatcher stated.  “Your location is Sunrise park, correct?”  “Yes sir, thank you very much for your help” my mom hung up the phone and informed us that a unit would be arriving shortly.  I had been stuck in the swing for nearly an hour now and my hips started to hurt as the plastic sides of the swing dug deep into my sides.

Within five minutes, not one, but two police cruisers came flying up the hill, sirens and lights blaring.  Two police officers stepped out of their cars and made their way towards the playground.  After some short conversation with my parents describing what had happened they both attempted to pull me out.  I didn’t move an inch.  My eight year old mind was struggling to fight back the tears, if the police man who could fix everything couldn’t get me out who could?  The police officers and my parents went off to the side and I overheard them discussing various solutions to getting me out of this mess.  I heard ideas ranging from KY jelly to an ax.  Now that really scared me, the thought of a forceful swing of an ax taking off one of my limbs.

             A couple minutes after the police had arrived a black Chevy Tahoe with green sirens came flying up the hill.  Out of it stepped two volunteer fire fighters dressed in regular civilian clothes.  As if they didn’t believe that everyone else there had tried to pull me out they too put their strength to the test and took turns trying to yank me out of the swing.  I felt like Excalibur with all kinds of strangers putting their hands on me and trying their luck to break me free.  I wish I could say they had some kind of magic powers and I magically slid free from the swing and into the waiting arms of my worried mother.  However, this was not the case.  They had the same luck as everyone else who had tried to pull me out earlier, nothing.  One of the volunteer fireman reached for his radio and called in further backup.  Insert one of those how many people does it take to screw in a light bulb jokes, except this was no joke I was truly stuck and so far no one had a solution to this problem.

Another set of sirens pierced the air as the long red fire truck came screaming up the hill.  Same routine, two men got out of the truck tried to pull me out, wasn’t happening.  This had developed into quite the scene.  All the emergency vehicles were parked next to each other transforming the peaceful parking lot into what looked like the scene of a horrific accident.  All that was missing was the caution tape.  They finally reached a verdict the swing needed to be cut.  The fireman went to their truck and came out with a tool that looked like oversized hedge cutters.  I squeezed my moms hand as the plastic swing broke apart and I placed my feet on the heavenly ground below.  Oh it felt good to be free, I thought to myself.  The cheers filled the air rivaled those of a hostage situation being resolved.  Smiles flashed across everyone’s faces as I jumped into the waiting arms of my mother.  Needless to say I stayed away from swings for the rest of my childhood years and still to this day have yet to go on one, even the ones that don’t look like diapers.