This is a piece I wrote a few weeks a go for my creative writing in quarintine class. I’m calling it a flash fiction for now, but I might elaborate on it eventually.
I used to know what a cherry blossom, in full bloom, in the middle of spring, looked like. I used to love the fireworks on the Fourth of July. Now I only hear the cannons and the screaming children. I used to be able to walk unaided. To run. I used to know what was right in front of my face, without taking a moment to smell it, to reach out my hand and feel its texture.
Now all I see is darkness. Not the darkness I used to love: with stars dancing and campfires cooking. This darkness is blank. Empty. Hopeless.
I know that giving up my sight was supposedly for the best. That it was donated to some poor clone without senses. I know that there are many others out there, who gave up their senses. Some gave touch, some smell, others gave their hearing, or their taste. I had the misfortune to be called upon when the Master’s children wanted sight.
Somehow, I know that I will never be glad for the loss of my sight. I will never be content with this life, I’ve been given, knowing that there was a better one before. Knowing that I had a choice. If my sight had been lost in an accident, or if I was born without it, or if my eyes were infected somehow and grew blind, it would be alright, I suppose. I would come to terms with it. But I can’t. I can’t accept that my sight is now in the Master’s children’s eyes. And the memory of a life with color pains me. I see the lost images in my mind’s eye and know that I can never regain them. I can never get my sight back. The thought brings tears to my eyes.
So, I am going back to the Master’s tower. To give the children my memories. Because I cannot stand to remember everything I have given up.
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Until next time! <3
Micaiah says
This was so good, Elizabeth Anne! <3
I tagged you for the Mystery Blogger Award on my blog, here's the link: https://notebooksandnovels.com/2020/04/17/the-mystery-blogger-award/