I’ve been living on the same one-way street for six months. Today, I looked the wrong way before crossing for the second time this week. I noticed it only half-way across, dodging a blue Volkswagen.

I got home, perturbed. So–like any well-trained millennial–I asked Google:

Can you develop dyslexia in your late twenties?

To which it responded, in a multitude of condescending articles: No. Yet, as I searched further, deeper, I began to wander curiously through forums until I got sucked into one odd little chat room for people called Puddle Jumpers. At first I thought it might be some joke. The banner was gray and the text came through in ugly pinks and greens, but it was active. One post, just a day ago read “First successful jump!!!”

I clicked it.

The user: Disrexic321, wrote this:

28.7041° N, 77.1025° E – On attempt 23, made it through! I can’t stop looking at my eyes!!! So. cool!

I kept scrolling down. There were dozens of responses; mostly congratulations. Many seemed to be impressed that the person was successful on just their 23rd jump, whatever that meant. I went back to the main screen. I kept going down the page until I found a post that fit my sentiment, it read:

What the hell is this?

The responses were a bit less welcoming. A few people called for the administrators to delete the comment. But, on the second page of responses there was someone who had posted a PDF download. Curious still, I clicked it.

The Other Side of Your Child’s Face: A Study on Dyslexia

By: Dr. Rosedale-Grosse

I skimmed through, becoming more and more confused and more and more curious. From what I could understand, the Doctor posited a theory that certain puddles, when jumped in or trodden across, will flip the world and become as one would see it in a mirror. He cited studies which showed that Dyslexia was drastically less popular in drier regions of the world and that it often begins in adolescence as a result of children’s tendencies to puddle jump.

I actually laughed when I read of the Doctors experiments, leading schools of children to puddle ridden parks and then performing all manner of convoluted tests; jumping on one foot, high-fiving, swinging a bat, writing words in the air with a finger, as well as more standard tests of directional awareness.

It all seemed so absurd that I had to sit back and whistle, only to find myself looking out of the window, wondering when it might rain next.

It being St, Petersburg, I didn’t have to wonder long. An hour later I was outside. I stood over the fresh puddles, looking around for executors of judgement. Finding none, I jumped once, then again. I didn’t feel a difference but the thrill of it took me and I couldn’t stop. There was another, and another. Then, I saw a big fat one in the middle of the road.

I checked for cars, and went for it.

Author Benjamin Davis and artist Nikita Klimov created one story and one picture each day for one year. In May 2018 they published their first book, The King of FU

25 Comment on “How I Broke My Leg

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