Inquisitive: Part 1
By Hassan Izzo
I was always inquisitive. Most kids are, I guess. The difference was that my inquisitiveness knew no bounds. I suppose the best and simplest way to demonstrate this would be to provide some examples of this inquisitiveness. I will provide three.
When I was eleven I was hit by a car on my way to school. This happened because I’d purposely stepped off the pavement and into the path of the car. I don’t remember much of the impact but I ended up lying on my back, staring up at the sky. It was clear that I was uninjured or at the very least, not severely. I had suffered a vast number and variety of injuries during my childhood and therefore knew my body incredibly well. I also knew that seeing as I was OK, it was best to get away as quickly as possible. I jumped up and sprinted off with my best friend Kevin beside me, leaving behind a whole host of open-mouthed onlookers – including the driver of the car that hit me – shouting after me and asking if I was OK. (Notes: All of the sentences started with “I” so I adjusted it a bit to make it sound better.)
Arriving at school shortly after, I went to the back of the playground and swung my schoolbag off my shoulders. “This is a pretty good back protector,” I said to Kevin, who was looking at me with the same look of awe he always did after one of my escapades. At the time, I’d stepped into the road as if I were going to cross to the other side but in the few seconds I had before the car collided with me, I’d instinctively turned my back to it. I began to check each and every limb in turn.
“How did it feel?” asked Kevin.
“Fine, didn’t feel a thing,” I replied as I rolled my trousers up to check my legs. I was making sure that my immediate diagnosis after the impact had been correct. It was; nothing was hurt, nothing was broken.
“How fast do you think he was going? I reckon it was like 50 or 60 miles an hour.”
I rolled my eyes. “Pretty sure I’d be dead or injured, if that was true. It was more like 15 or 20, I think.”
“Wanna do it again? Without the bag, maybe with a car going faster?”
I shrugged. “Nah, done it now.”
As soon as my dad had finished building it and I had stood in it, I knew I wanted to jump from it. I’m talking about my tree house, which will be the scene for my second example of inquisitiveness.
“How far down you think it is?” asked Kevin as he stood behind me. I stood at the edge of the tree house looking down on the soft grass that lay below.
“Ten, twenty feet I bet.”
I was sure Kevin couldn’t be right with those numbers. “Maybe,” I replied. “You sure you wanna do it?” he asked with excitement in his voice.
In my head I saw myself hitting the ground, falling into a roll, and coming out of it unscathed which was a rare thing to think before – unique in fact. I took a deep breath. “Right, I’m gonna do it then.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I leapt out and for a few seconds it felt how I thought it would: exhilarating. I remember having a big smile on my face before realizing I was in no-way prepared to hit the ground as I had wanted to. I fell with most of my weight on my right ankle and it snapped instantly with such a clean, satisfying sound that at once I understood the term ‘snapped like a twig’ was beautifully apt. At this point, I looked down and saw my foot bent at a horrific angle with bone sticking out in a haphazard way. Weirdly, there didn’t seem to be any blood at first; I remember just seeing sheer white bone.
Like any other writer, Hassan Antonio Izzo is happiest when he is sat at his desk putting words down on paper; whether it be updating his blog, working on a short story, script, poetry, journalism, or wrestling with his first novel. If anything stands a chance of getting him away from his desk, a few drinks with friends would stand a good one. His biggest claim to fame is that Quentin Tarantino loved his Mr T t-shirt when he met him; which was pretty cool.
A proud South Londoner, you can follow on Twitter @Hassanizzo86