I can think of at least one time in my life that I definitely should have died but didn’t.
A group of us were driving home from a birthday party. On the drive home I hit something in the road that blew out my tire. I lost control of the car and started to spin out. The car spun across the median and into oncomming trafic in a slide. The last thing I remembered was seeing the headlights of a car I was about to hit. Everything got very bright and It sounded like something hit my car. Then we were all on the other side of the road. When the police were making the report it turned out that I actually broke my side view mirror on the other cars fendor. We missed getting killed by <------------------> that much
Openfist
The hate I bear thee can afford No better term than this,–thou art a villain.
How’s this for lucky: I met and fell in love with the most incredible woman in the world right here on this message board! You might consider that Divine Intervention though. You know what they say, “Cecil works in mysterious ways…”
Just make yourself comfy while I shoot nuclear particles into your heart.
As a kid, I was playing around in a dry creek bed. I bent down to pick up a stick, and the stick (which turned out to be a nicely-camoflaged cottonmouth water moccasin) took a strike at me. I scaled the 6-foot bank of that creek in about 0.72 seconds! Don’t know if the snakebite would have killed me, but it might have, since I was just a little feller at the time.
I was in a card game once. The guy across from me won the hand. As he reached over to rake in the winnings I grabbed his hands and twisted one of them showing an ace in his sleeve. I acccused him of being a cheatin bastard and he drew on me. Lucky for me I was faster and lived to play another game on another day.
We have had various “close to death” threads, but I figured I could throw out a story about my great uncle Wahoo. Granted, Wahoo is now insane, an alcoholic, and whereabouts unknown, but it is still a pretty good story. He and my grandfather grew up on a decent sized farm in Kansas, mid-1920’s.
They were fortunate to have a few oil wells on property. When the well was dry and the horse removed, my grandpa and Wahoo would take a match, throw it in the pit and watch the flames shoot up for a couple of seconds before the oil burned off.
However, Wahoo once threw a match in and nothing happened. He decided to look down into the hole (in an Elmer Fudd moment) at the same time, the match connected with the oil. At this point they apparently had Wahoo flambe. No serious burns, but no eyebrows for a couple of months either.
We went right out there and refused to do accoustical versions of the electrical songs that we had refused to record in the first place.
Spoke, I had a very similar thing happen to me when I was 11. I was climbing back up from the creek behind our house when I realized I was looking into the eyes of a coiled snake. I don’t know if I really heard the sound of a rattle, or if I imagined it, but to anyone watching, it would have looked as if I beamed off the hill to the other side of the brook.
Sorry to waste bandwidth to essentially tell the same story over, but I was struck by the similarity.
“His eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard,
I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”
In my youth, on one of my earliest jobs, I was loading brush onto a truck, from a pile of dead trees that had been bulldozed off the roadway in what is now Reston VA. I happen to be allergic to bee stings, and such. I was pulling on a branch, when it snagged on something. I pulled harder, and ripped a black faced hornet’s nest in half, about three feet from my face.
I got stung once. My coworkers report that I teleported to a bank about fifty feet away, and ran through the bushes out of sight about the time they all started to get stung. I ended up in the hospital, unconscious, for an hour or so from the one sting. No one else was affected as much, although the guy closest to me got stung three times.
I have slow reflexes, very little coordination, and can’t run well at all. Like they said, I teleported.
Tris
Imagine my signature begins five spaces to the right of center.
Well, to make a long story short, when i was in second grade i almost got killed. I walked to a friend’s house after school one day (she was older and used to baby sit me until my parents came home), and was hanging out in the backyard with her and some friends. I noticed the lightning/cloud formations/sky changing color/etc, and begged them to go inside with me. So, all we went inside, and up to a guest bedroom, and (for whatever reason) looked out the window. Lightning instantly hit a huge tree, which fell over on some power lines, both of which fell on the exact spot we had been standing 10 seconds earlier. Yikes!
“Through twilight, darkness and moonrise
My scarlet tears will run
As stolen blood and whispered love
Of fantasies undone”
One night we threw some asshole gangbangers out of our bar.
This was in my college student/bouncer days.
Later that night, I was working the door, and was standing outside, leaning against the brick wall. I heard some gunshots and felt a sting on my face. It made me jump, and I looked around. My friends came running out and one of them told me that my face was bleeding.
I looked at the wall where I was leaning, and not two inches from my head, there was a chip in the brick where the bullet hit. The chunks of brick had cut my face.
There was also a bullet hole on the other side of me, in one of the wooden panels we had over a broken window.
I couldn’t help but think that
“I should be fuckin’ dead, my friend.”
I hope that never happens again
Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.
