Have you ever been told a story that haunted you long after it was told? Not the kind of story with ghosts and witches but the kind of story that just left you….wondering…thinking if you’d ever find out what happened?
My dad had a lot of things happen to him throughout his life. We often wondered how he got to be the age that he is, well and alive. He got into several accidents… he was in a bike accident causing him to fall into a bush of thorns, he was in a horrible car accident where he hit a cow. The most memorable thing for me was when he dove into a empty pool head first. No he isn’t stupid… he had just assumed the pool would have water in it. He and his friends always asked permission to use the pool but that day he was asking permission and running toward it at the same time. He wasn’t looking straight ahead.. he was looking at the man who let them use it so by the time he turned it was too late. He only ended up with a few scrapes on his forearms and I think a broken wrist. I know! Someone clearly wants him to live for a long time.
So as the story goes my dad was on business in Norway and was in a club in Edinburgh. He decided to leave the club because everyone around him was drunk and he has never been much of a drinker so he went out for a walk. I think he was heading back to where he was staying when he stumbled upon a fellow Spaniard (lets call him Pablo) who asked him what he was doing. My dad told him he was heading back home but Pablo convinced him to go back to the club. Pablo said he had some friends that he wanted my dad to meet but once they got back to the club they wouldn’t let my dad back in. My dad was told he had to pay an entrance fee even though he already had his wrist stamped from when he went in the first time. When my dad refused that’s when the shit hit the fan. Pablo stepped in to defend my father and the doorman brought out his goons. The doorman punched my dad and my dad fell to the floor bleeding. Pablo pulled out a knife from his pocket and put himself in between my dad and the goons and told my dad to get a taxi and he would soon follow. My dad didn’t want to leave him but Pablo insisted so my dad got into a taxi but he had the driver go around and around the same block with no luck. My dad never saw Pablo again and often wonders what happened to him. He is also riddled with guilt but there was nothing he could have done, he even tried contacting the Spanish Embassy but no one could help him.
I know my dad considers Pablo to be his guardian angel… at least for that night.
So why do some stories haunt us more than any scary story we’ve heard? Is it because there was nothing that could be done?