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The Boy Who Could Feel

Once there was a little boy.

He had a special gift.

He could feel things that others could not feel. He could feel changes in the weather before anyone else could.

One day he felt a storm coming. A terrible, destructive storm. He tried to warn others. He didn't know just when it would come, but he was sure it was coming.

When he first felt the storm coming, he told his mother. She didn't listen to him. She said, "Don't exaggerate. Stop making things up. Don't scare people. Stop worrying."

So for days he kept silent.

But his feelings kept shouting out to him. His feelings and instinct as a social animal and a member of the group kept telling him to warn others.

So he tried telling his father. His father did not take him seriously either. He told him to run along and play with his friends because his father was busy and had more imporant things to do.

He felt hurt when his mother didn't take him seriously. He felt more pain when he discovered he and his feelings were not even important to his father.

He tried to tell his friends. Most of them just laughed at him and said, "Look at the sky? Do you see any clouds? Does it look like a storm to you?" "Ha ha," they all laughed.

He felt mocked and more pain.

At school he tried to tell a teacher. He tried to explain to her how much it hurt that no one was taking him seriously. He tried to explain how afraid he was and how sure he was that a terrible storm was coming that would kill many people.

But the teacher just sent him to the school psychologist. The school psychologist pretended to listen, but called his parents.

His mother said, "Oh, don't pay any attention to him. He likes to make things up. He just does that for attention. Everything is fine."

When he got home, his parents were upset with him. They said, "Why did you say those things to the school pscyhologist? Now she thinks we have a crazy family. Don't bother her again with your foolishness. She has more important things to do with her time. There are people with real problems who need her help. She doesn't have time for you. Don't be so selfiish in trying to get some attention from her. We don't want to hear any more nonsense about a terrible storm coming. Now go to your room."

So the boy went to his room. He layed there alone on his bed. He felt painfully confused. He was always told that he should talk to his parents. He was always told, "If you have a problem, if something is bothering you, tell an adult."

And he believed that for a long time. He believed his teachers and the adults at the school were there to help him.

But he tried talking to people. He really tried. But each time he tried to talk to someone, he felt worse.

He learned they didn't take him and his feelings seriously.

This hurt. It hurt so much.

He cried that night.

He cried until he fell asleep.

This happened many nights. Too many to count.

He tried talking to everyone he knew in the small town. No one, not one single person took him seriously.

The pain of feeling what he felt and knowing what he knew grew with each passing day.

He tried talking to everyone he knew in the small town. No one, not one single person took him seriously.

But later, just as the boy predicted, the storm did come. It killed many people and destroyed the small town.

But the boy was not there to see it arrive.

Why do you think he was not there?

S. Hein
June 4, 2011
Sydney, Australia

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