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[WP] The gods have commissioned a very skilled but very old blacksmith to create a divine weapon for a great hero. However due to his age, he mishears and makes a frying pan and gives it to the Hero. It works out quite well. | Ganglar smiled his toothless smile, "It's perfect. I spent the better part of a month refining it."
Galihad stared quietly at the object placed on the table. "It's... not what I expected..."
It's exactly as the gods degreed. I followed their divine pan."
"Divine pan?"
"That's what they said. That's what I made."
Are you sure they didn't say Divine Plan?"
"That's what I said, divine pan."
Galihad drummed his fingers on the table. "You uh, don't have anything else I could use... right?" Ganglar shook is head, "Of course you'll never use anything else. This is perfect for your quest. No other creation matches it's might."
Hobbling to the training dummy at the corner of the room, he continued, "Come on, give it a good whack. You'll see, you'll see."
Galihad tetitively lifted the pan. "If you say so..."
Marching to the wooden dummy, he wound up a swing. Galihad spared a glance to the blacksmith, who had taken up a position behind a upturned table, with a pot as a makeshift helmet on his head. Galihad shrugged, then swung the pan.
*Shepard's Ilse*
Tom sat under the shade of his favorite tree, watching his favorite sheep, listening to the songs of his favorite birds.
"The peace and quiet of the country. No bustle, no noise, no danger." He let out a long breath, sinking a bit lower, letting his hat shade his eyes as be started to drift off to sleep.
A blinding flash lit up in the distance. Tom sat up, "What in the he-" A Shockwave uprooted his favorite tree, scattered his favorite sheep, and defeathered his favorite birds.
*The crater formally known as Ganglar's Shop*
Galihad's eyes blinked open. He sat up abruptly, gazing at the remains that had been the blacksmiths shop, the pan still in his hand.
"Me best work, see? What'd I tell you?"
Galihad turned, blinking slowly. The old blacksmith hung upside down in the splintered remains of a tree. "That'll show 'em."
Galihad looked down at the pan, still steaming, "I... would have to agree." | Along the banks of the Boyne Fionn sits and prepares camp, The bright heads of his spears point towards the heavens and his horses graze contently among the watercrests and rushes that line the mighty river.
Ferchra and Durmid have been sent on ahead to rouse Finn and let him know that the salmon has been caught, within its rosy pink flesh lies the Knowledge of man, a great gift to give to Finn he thinks, how they will sing in the great halls of Tara of the nobel deed that he has performed this day.
Taking his short sword he cuts away a swarth of rush and hawthorn and lays it on the sweet grass to prepare the fire. He lays his tinder and blows from the mighty cavern of his chest and delights as the hawthorn and rushes crack and brust into flame. Now content with his young smoky fire he sits and begins to prepare the fish.
The blade of his knife rasps and throws the silver scales of the fish across his strong forearms . What mighty armour the Formodians made from scales such as this. Content in his work his mind wanders and he thinks of the fair and lovely Sadhbh tending to her loom back in the great halls.
The mighty knife enters the belly of the fish and the entrails spill forth, he remins himself to ask Finn for any sign in the entrails, and mention of his heroic deeds written in the belly of the fish.
Work complete he takes the fillets and lays them on a bed of fresh rushes. Now to cook the Salmon! Surely this great fish and knowledge it holds should not be cooked on anything less than a mighty Hazel spit. Finn stands, and looks for a hazel from which to fashion a spit, but there is none to be seen. THen surely the flat pan that Sorcha the smith gave hime before he left. The old man with his hands as quick as the ebb of the Boyne and his skill still evident in the worksmanship of the pan, its edges singing great praise to Lug, its bottom adorned with the mighty eye of Bolrag and its inlay in the finest silver and gold from the Sperrins. What more noble device to prepare a dish for the mighty poet Finn!.
The gold and sliver glow and Fionn judges it is time to lay the Salmon on the pan, its skin curls and crisps as the heat transforms the pinkness of the flesh into the creamy flakes of goodness. His mouth waters at the smell but he knows he cannot taste even the smallest morsal of the meat until Finn has had his champions portion.
The greasy fat splutters and dances across the pan as his chariot men return with Finn.
Greeting mighty Finn! how pleasant it is to look apon you while the spring winds rises from the south and the cattle are lowing softly in the medow!!
Well met young Fionn! it is indeed a wonder to view your fine countanance and the smell of Salmon softly apon the morning breeze.
Sit now, i tell you Fair Finn and let me bring to you the great Salmon that you have searched for, for so long, with its loins full of the knowledge of man.
Then sit i shall Fionn, for no better man could have brought such bounty to my lands.
Fionn reaches down to the fire and takes the pan, but what trechery has Sorcha wrought into the workings of the pan, for no sooner than the hands of Fionn touch the device than the fat leaps and burns his lilly white finger and as if bitten by a snake Fionn puts his finger in his mouth and sucks to soothe the pain.
Ahhhh by the light of Lug, Finn laments! what have you done Fionn!, oh mighty Fionn!.
Fionn falls to the ground as the world becomes clear to him, the knowledge of man now courses through his veins!
Oh what wickedness has Sorcha wrought with his pan!
( Finn McColl of course) credit to the original story
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[WP] The gods have commissioned a very skilled but very old blacksmith to create a divine weapon for a great hero. However due to his age, he mishears and makes a frying pan and gives it to the Hero. It works out quite well. | After your long day of pillaging and plundering, you steal off into the twilight. You are eager to escape your pursuers, sell your goods, and find a nice, hot meal and a warm bed.
You have a long road ahead of you to the nearest thieves' town, but at least it's a deserted one. You trudge underneath a fiery red sunset, already dreaming of all the things you'll do once you turn your loot for a profit. The finest clothes! Kegs of ale! A mountain of steak! The best room at the inn! Heck, maybe even that bar wench that works Saturday evenings might be convinced to go out on a date with you. Alas, you must keep the fantasies to a minimum, for it is very torturous on an empty stomach and tired feet.
It is almost nightfall when you happen across a lone wagon and a humble fire. The scent of roast game wafts out towards your nostrils, drawing you near. A shadowed figure steps out of the wagon. Ever cautious, you reach for your dagger, but the figure raises a hand as if to say, 'It's all right, I mean no harm.' With your fears at ease, you approach the campfire, and peer upon the figure.
It appears to be a regular man of no great strength, yet no weakling either. In fact, everything about him appears to be quite ordinary: not young, but not old; not handsome, but not hideous; not a pauper, but not a rich man either. In any case, he does appear to be friendly. He smiles and gestures for you to take a seat. You heave your sack of treasures to the ground and plop yourself down by the fire, letting your toes take in the heat. You observe the sizzling black pan on the fire, with herbed chunks of meat, and oh does it ever smell *so good*. The man must have noticed your longing stare and gaping mouth, for he takes a knife and skewers a piece off the frying pan, offering it to you.
You hesitate at first. What if this is some sort of ploy? Are there strings attached? As if sensing your discomfort, the man puts it in his own mouth, chewing and swallowing it in front of you. Then, he takes a second piece and makes another offer. Satisfied, you accept.
It's heaven. The warm juices ooze around in your mouth, the tender flesh flakes and melts like butter. And the taste! The notes of each herb and spice dance in your mouth. Oh, you could die happy.
Perhaps you shouldn't have thought that. Almost at once, your vision gets blurry, your limbs get heavy and weak. In a panic, you feel for your weapons, but it's like moving through mud. You get a glance at the frying pan, and on its side, you notice the arcane inscription, glowing red-hot from the flames:
*May all evildoers rue the taste of justice.*
That's when it hits you.
This is the man they call Origanum, Chef of Righteousness. | Along the banks of the Boyne Fionn sits and prepares camp, The bright heads of his spears point towards the heavens and his horses graze contently among the watercrests and rushes that line the mighty river.
Ferchra and Durmid have been sent on ahead to rouse Finn and let him know that the salmon has been caught, within its rosy pink flesh lies the Knowledge of man, a great gift to give to Finn he thinks, how they will sing in the great halls of Tara of the nobel deed that he has performed this day.
Taking his short sword he cuts away a swarth of rush and hawthorn and lays it on the sweet grass to prepare the fire. He lays his tinder and blows from the mighty cavern of his chest and delights as the hawthorn and rushes crack and brust into flame. Now content with his young smoky fire he sits and begins to prepare the fish.
The blade of his knife rasps and throws the silver scales of the fish across his strong forearms . What mighty armour the Formodians made from scales such as this. Content in his work his mind wanders and he thinks of the fair and lovely Sadhbh tending to her loom back in the great halls.
The mighty knife enters the belly of the fish and the entrails spill forth, he remins himself to ask Finn for any sign in the entrails, and mention of his heroic deeds written in the belly of the fish.
Work complete he takes the fillets and lays them on a bed of fresh rushes. Now to cook the Salmon! Surely this great fish and knowledge it holds should not be cooked on anything less than a mighty Hazel spit. Finn stands, and looks for a hazel from which to fashion a spit, but there is none to be seen. THen surely the flat pan that Sorcha the smith gave hime before he left. The old man with his hands as quick as the ebb of the Boyne and his skill still evident in the worksmanship of the pan, its edges singing great praise to Lug, its bottom adorned with the mighty eye of Bolrag and its inlay in the finest silver and gold from the Sperrins. What more noble device to prepare a dish for the mighty poet Finn!.
The gold and sliver glow and Fionn judges it is time to lay the Salmon on the pan, its skin curls and crisps as the heat transforms the pinkness of the flesh into the creamy flakes of goodness. His mouth waters at the smell but he knows he cannot taste even the smallest morsal of the meat until Finn has had his champions portion.
The greasy fat splutters and dances across the pan as his chariot men return with Finn.
Greeting mighty Finn! how pleasant it is to look apon you while the spring winds rises from the south and the cattle are lowing softly in the medow!!
Well met young Fionn! it is indeed a wonder to view your fine countanance and the smell of Salmon softly apon the morning breeze.
Sit now, i tell you Fair Finn and let me bring to you the great Salmon that you have searched for, for so long, with its loins full of the knowledge of man.
Then sit i shall Fionn, for no better man could have brought such bounty to my lands.
Fionn reaches down to the fire and takes the pan, but what trechery has Sorcha wrought into the workings of the pan, for no sooner than the hands of Fionn touch the device than the fat leaps and burns his lilly white finger and as if bitten by a snake Fionn puts his finger in his mouth and sucks to soothe the pain.
Ahhhh by the light of Lug, Finn laments! what have you done Fionn!, oh mighty Fionn!.
Fionn falls to the ground as the world becomes clear to him, the knowledge of man now courses through his veins!
Oh what wickedness has Sorcha wrought with his pan!
( Finn McColl of course) credit to the original story
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[WP] The gods have commissioned a very skilled but very old blacksmith to create a divine weapon for a great hero. However due to his age, he mishears and makes a frying pan and gives it to the Hero. It works out quite well. | Ganglar smiled his toothless smile, "It's perfect. I spent the better part of a month refining it."
Galihad stared quietly at the object placed on the table. "It's... not what I expected..."
It's exactly as the gods degreed. I followed their divine pan."
"Divine pan?"
"That's what they said. That's what I made."
Are you sure they didn't say Divine Plan?"
"That's what I said, divine pan."
Galihad drummed his fingers on the table. "You uh, don't have anything else I could use... right?" Ganglar shook is head, "Of course you'll never use anything else. This is perfect for your quest. No other creation matches it's might."
Hobbling to the training dummy at the corner of the room, he continued, "Come on, give it a good whack. You'll see, you'll see."
Galihad tetitively lifted the pan. "If you say so..."
Marching to the wooden dummy, he wound up a swing. Galihad spared a glance to the blacksmith, who had taken up a position behind a upturned table, with a pot as a makeshift helmet on his head. Galihad shrugged, then swung the pan.
*Shepard's Ilse*
Tom sat under the shade of his favorite tree, watching his favorite sheep, listening to the songs of his favorite birds.
"The peace and quiet of the country. No bustle, no noise, no danger." He let out a long breath, sinking a bit lower, letting his hat shade his eyes as be started to drift off to sleep.
A blinding flash lit up in the distance. Tom sat up, "What in the he-" A Shockwave uprooted his favorite tree, scattered his favorite sheep, and defeathered his favorite birds.
*The crater formally known as Ganglar's Shop*
Galihad's eyes blinked open. He sat up abruptly, gazing at the remains that had been the blacksmiths shop, the pan still in his hand.
"Me best work, see? What'd I tell you?"
Galihad turned, blinking slowly. The old blacksmith hung upside down in the splintered remains of a tree. "That'll show 'em."
Galihad looked down at the pan, still steaming, "I... would have to agree." | The gods looked upon the potential hero and they knew he had a destiny before him. They saw him fighting against the demonic scourge plaguing the land, but none could see if he would be victorious. As was there way, they bickered over who would take the boy as their champion, knowing full well whoever did would have full bragging rights should he succeed.
After a fortnight, the arguments had settled and it was decided that they would all have him as a communal champion, but they would all also have the option of backing away if they so desired. They ordered the greatest blacksmith in the land to construct his greatest weapon and then ordered the greatest enchanter to bestow the greatest enchantments to it. But disaster struck. The blacksmith had gone almost deaf from his years of work and did not fully hear the divine order. In his attempt to follow the command, he made a frying pan. The enchanter was confused, but didn't want to make the gods angry, so he placed intricate enchantments onto the pan and presented his work.
The gods were furious. The enchantments irrevocably bound the pan to the potential hero, meaning that there would be no way for him to simply get a different weapon that would be of the intended power. The deities began arguing who was to blame.
The first one to leave was the god of war. He walked away from the group's chambers stating simply that without a weapon, there would be no chance. The others pondered their options a moment, before following suit. The potential hero watched the gods leave and he felt abandoned. They had turned their backs on him.
But then he heard a small voice in his mind. It said, "Do not fear, little one. Not all the gods have left you yet. I am a god forgotten, and it has been years since any have spoken my name. I was once the god of hunting and cooking and I watched over your people while they lived in huts and tribes rather than buildings and cities. I helped them fight to survive and it seems rather fitting to come to their aid once more." |
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[WP]: A doctor from the year 2217 gets thrown back in time to 2016. She tries to make the best of it, but the world of the past is grim, the people are savage, and the medical practices are downright medieval. | Dr. Charlotte Hargreaves woke up, baffled as to what happened. The last thing she remembered was a flash of light and the feeling she was getting pulled. She looked around and saw the world was very different from the one she knew.
She approached a news stand and looked at the paper; which she found to be odd. Newspapers haven't been in circulation for centuries. The date: November 12, 2016. A plethora of complex emotions flooded her. Fear, anxiety but for the most part curiosity. Being a doctor from 201 years in the future can bode well for the people of New York. She thought of all the advancements made in the medical field and how, with just the tools in her bag, she can save numerous lives.
"Can you please direct me to the nearest hospital?" she asked the clerk and he pointed up the street.
"It's just down the road."
She graciously smiled as she went on her way. Upon her arrival she witnessed things that she had never seen. The emergency room was loud and hectic. People we're screaming, nurses running and family members crying. In 2217 most ailments could be cured with a few drops or a quick injection. Even serious injuries weren't a big deal due to the progress of pain medication. Knowing that she couldn't perform procedures legally without a license she informed the people of the waiting room, "I may be able to help. Please meet me at the park just out side."
Folks were skeptical. She didn't look like a local but the genuine concern led people to investigate. Her first visitor, a tall young black man, limped up to her. "I was playing basketball. I think it's my ankle."
"Let me take a look," she said eagerly. She pulled out a sterilized syringe, drew a small amount of liquid into it and said, "this should help."
The young man was worried but all of her equipment looked legit. He allowed the injection. 30 seconds later he felt no pain. He watched as the swelling went down and the normal color returned. Astonished, he jumped up. "What's in that thing?!"
"This stuff? It's nothing but an aspirin and aloe compound. 100% natural. Can you tell more people? I can't stay for long and I want to help as many people as possible."
The young man agreed and ran to the ER. Shortly a small group of people came. The first with a rash covering most of his back. She disinfected the area and applied a cream that showed immediate results.
The 2nd was an older woman who was bald from chemo therapy. She explained that she suffered from breast cancer and has been getting increasingly worse. "Breast cancer?" Charlotte thought. "Cancer has been extinct for years." She rummaged through her bag and found a prescription bottle with 8 pills.
"Take this. 1 now and 1 before you go to sleep every night." The woman took the bottle and with a little bit of water, swallowed the pill.
"Are you sure this will work?" the woman asked clearly concerned, but desperate for an alternative.
"Yes. Do not go to chemo anymore. You'll be fine."
The third was a family. A young white couple with a child that looked to be no older than four. The child was in pain and holding his ears. "We think it's an ear infection," said the husband as he handed Dr. Hargreaves the child. She comforted her, bounced her back and forth until she put 2 drops of liquid in her ear. Slowly the crying stopped, the little girl wiped her eyes and relaxed to try to sleep. Charlotte handed her back to the parents.
By this time a small crowd started to form. "Who are you?"
She declined to answer, "Just a good Samaritan trying to help those in need." As she said this more people came. Each illness different from the last. Each patient shocked by the results.
Charlotte spent hours there. People were insatiable. The crowd began to get wild. Pushing, shoving. Despite her pleas, they couldn't be calmed. She explained that her supplies are running low. This caused more mayhem as some wanted to be the last patient. She tried to leave. The mob grabbed at her. She tried to pull away. The desperation turned to anger. "WHY WON'T YOU HELP US!"
"I've done all I can!" Someone tried to grabbed her bag. At this point she is terrified. Surrounded by an angry mob with very few people trying to protect her. See saw any opening and ran as fast as her legs could move. She could hear the crowd but would not look back. She almost excited the park when they caught up to her. She was pushed to the ground. She begged, "Please! I don't have enough!" as she tried to crawl. Hands grabbing at her bag, arms and legs. Then....
A blinding white light flashed. When she opened her eyes she saw the young black man she helped first. "Where are we?"
"2217. We're back."
"We're?" she ask perplexed.
"Yes."
"Who are you?"
"Don't ask questions. Get rested. We are leaving again tomorrow."
"I can't go back there. Those people almost killed me!"
"We have to. There is a virus that has mutated over the passed 200 years. We have patient 0, but we haven't made progress."
"You have patient 0?"
At that point the a little girl walked in and said, "My ear hurts."
| Imagine that you're some divine doctor, and you get sent back to 201 years before you get your doctorate. Those slippery colleagues of mine, they thought I was too stuck up. My slang words weren't divine enough for them, and they thought it laughable to send me back to this era. Here I was, 2016, and I was going to use my mannerisms to make these sandwiches crumble! At first they didn't accept that I was divine, either. They overused the words "literally" and "cool", possibly as part of their slang. That didn't stop me, however, from implementing the technologies of our "lit" future, as they'd called it. Being great as I was, I implemented all future technologies into this small, divine world of Earth. The people were no longer sick or in pain, for I stopped that slippery suffering. Who knew a springy medical student such as I could fix the past this easily?
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I tried to add the element of future slang and the ignorance of a college student within the writing, I hope you enjoyed it! |
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[WP] A Kidnapper and his victim genuinely end up falling in love. They always knew this day would eventually come: "Mommy, Daddy, how did you guys meet?" | "Mommy, Daddy, how did you guys meet?"
I smiled and met Cheryl's eyes. She gave me a panicked look mixed in with a mischevious stare. And so I averted my gaze back to the newspaper on my lap and let her handle this.
"Well, Tommy, it's a long story and I'm not sure if we could finish it all before bedtime."
No fair.
Tommy pouted. "But Mum, I only have to go to sleep at seven-thirty and it's ten am now."
I smiled. Thank God I taught the kid the time.
"Well," Cheryl continued, "alright. But the short version, okay hun?"
Tommy nodded.
"Your Dad and I met while dancing."
A nightclub bathroom to be exact.
"And your father bought me a delicious juice that was my favorite of all."
Gin and tonic with a dash of roofies.
"He took my breath away, your old papa."
Literally.
"And the next thing I knew, he swooped me up in his arms and stole my heart."
It was actually the right kidney that I stole.
"Wow. . ." Tommy drawled. "And then you were in love forever?"
"Why, of course, sweetheart. Your Dad was such a charmer."
Turns out she was planning on donating her kidney anyway. In fact, she saw me slip the pills in her drink before taking it too -she wanted to be kidnapped. Apparently, there wasn't an easier way to find certain love. And I couldn't leave after doing all that, unless I killed her of course.
I took a sip of coffee.
"Why don't you go and play outside now, my love?" Cheryl said.
Tommy scuttled outside with a big grin on his face. "Eggs?" Cheryl asked.
I looked after Tommy, screaming: *please help me. . .* on the inside. But when I turned back to Cheryl, I gave her a loving smile. "Whatever you decide to make for me will be great, my love."
| *“Well son, it was complicated”*
“You see, mommy & daddy were both forced together by daddy’s job, to travel from city to city with only each other for company. Even though we were not on social talking terms with one another, we grew bored and eventually started opening up, first about general stuff like weather, the fuel I had left, the bruises on her arms, etc & then it graduated to more serious conversations like she wanted to visit her family, but the nature of my work could never allow that.”
“We eventually agreed on indirect contact with both our families & during those calls we grew closer to each other due to our similar predicament. Eventually I, with much reluctance, fell for her and she for me. We married in a small ceremony with a few witnesses, no family though. And yes we did send some pictures of our wedding home, but nothing after that.”
My son thought for a second and asked “What kind of job did you have daddy that never let you both settle till today?”
I rolled down the RVs window and let some air in. The time had come. He was starting to ask the right questions & I had to do it.
“Daddy was a bad man when he met mommy & he was sent to kidnap her child”
“You mean I have an elder brother…or sister?”
“No” I replied calmly as I put the bag over his head.
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*Thanks for reading :)* |
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[WP] You run an agency of time travelers who are dispatched to break the hearts of famous singers through out their lives and inspire their timeless music. | It all started with Kennedy. Sure he'd sung about heartbreak before, but you never really heard it in his voice until Larry here took that shot from the grassy knoll. It always surprises people when I tell them this, but nothing puts some colour in a man's voice like the grief of a nation.
Vietnam was next. That took a bit more effort from all of us but how else could we have got a white man to sing rock and roll like that. We didn't start that war but we sure did our best to keep it going when we saw the effect it was having on his voice.
Richard was the masterstroke.We'd always called him tricky dicky since he started with us but his early attempts had failed. It's not hard to see how you go from Viva Las Vegas to Promised Land via Watergate. Destroy a man's trust in his leader and you soon hear that soul.
Priscilla was next. Our Yoko Mk 2. Luckily, she didn't suffer from a rogue agent attack like poor Yoko, but by God I never saw him love a woman like her and she made him sincere.
Do I feel any guilt over how it all ended? Not at all. I'm proud that I introduced him to those doctors, those dealers, that chef. In art you have to go to extremes. Turn the knob to 11. How else can we give the people what they want?
Something you learn in this job is that there are never any unexpected consequences. If we get things wrong, well we're time travellers. We get to retake the test. | "Don't you think she has enough songs already?" Said Bernard, the co-CEO of *Love Sings INC*. This man was frustrated, head sweaty and his heavy face was on fire from this 2 hour-long company meeting.
"I think you forgot our policy and company saying, Bernard!" Stated the CEO and headmaster, Ms. Lueson. Her brown bobbed haircut bounced above her shoulders while she stood straight and perfectly in her form-fitting business pantsuit. "Remember our quote? *'Some say the world runs on love, which is true, and love makes money. The world runs on money!'*" She shouted the quote with pride, looking around the boardroom and across the long spruce wood table that had everyone sitting at.
"I still think we should change our motto..." Muttered Jane from the Heartbreaker Dispatch. Lueson did nothing but shake her head and put on a smile.
"I know Taylor has an abundance of heartbreak songs, but what is one more to hurt? She'll fall in love with practically any person we send to her, and any song she releases will most likely reach the charts for a minimum amount of time!"
A bald older man who sat the exact opposite end of the long table nodded his head and raised his hand, gathering the attention of everyone in the room. "I agree, I think we can pump out a few more love-songs and we might be able to get her another award show nomination." Lueson clapped her hands together and smirked, raising her eyebrow as she eyed the people in presence.
"Okay, so all in favor of another Taylor Swift song?" About 75% of the formal dressed people in the room raised their hands, showing their approval of sending out another heartbreaker agent to generate love-songs.
"Alright, now lets talk about what heartbreaker to send out," Lueson started, sitting back down in her swirly padded office chair. "Jane, what employees could we possibly dispatch? I want this song to talk about a different type of man that's not been talk about in her past songs."
Jane bit her lip and her eyes wavered around, considering how hard it'd been to think up another guy that could be different for Taylor Swift. "Well, he's no Harry Styles but I was thinking we could send an actor out? One of my actors maybe, and that could possibly raise the chance of Taylor writing a song about maybe a liar.. Cause he's so good at acting?" Jane questioned, even she was unsure.
The room stayed silent, as people wrote down notes and shifted through paper. Or others just sat there awkwardly, waiting for the decision to be made by Lueson.
The CEO tapped her finger on her chin, nodding at the idea and looked around the room. Eyebrows curling in confusion at the lack of opinions and enthusiasm. "Why is no one clapping? That's a great idea Jane!"
After being told to, everyone in the meeting room clapped as many 'yes' and 'good ideas' clashed around in speech. Lueson smiled and stood up once more.
"Then it is settled, Jane you may choose one of your actors from the heartbreaker department to dispatch out to Taylor. I expect this to take 6 to 7 months until we see Taylor write another song. Good meeting everyone!"
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[WP] You run an agency of time travelers who are dispatched to break the hearts of famous singers through out their lives and inspire their timeless music. | Twenty three years. Almost two and a half decades I'd been sitting at this desk, day in and day out. A half eaten cake sat on the corner of it now, a boring commemoration of so much time spent in this spot.
Time. What was it? I sat with a disinterested stare on my face, mouth slightly agape as I pondered this. Of all the department's in the Division of Time Alteration and Management, I thought that the Department of Musical Direction would be one of the more exciting ones. But after twenty three long years, the days had just blurred together.
The early days were more exciting, sure. Fresh out of college with degrees in music history and chronomanipulation, I thought I'd be changing the world on the daily. Which, in a way, I guess I did. And I suppose it was a better gig than the guys over in the Department of Conflict. Every time they had to start a war, those guys looked *haggard*.
I was so deep in thought I hadn't noticed the young lady enter my office. I hurriedly wiped a bit of drool away and straightened up. She pretended not to notice, which was good of her. I swiped through some files and motioned her to sit down.
"Good afternoon", I said, mustering up every bit of enthusiasm I could.
She smiled and nodded politely. I looked over her file. It was so standard and, well, boring. Typically catch and release, resulting in one hit that would be forgotten almost immediately. For some reason, upper management thought it of import though, so I went through the same script I'd read countless times before.
The young lady jotted a couple notes and got up to go. I'd basically already forgotten her by the time she'd crossed to the door. Then I heard a faint *pop* and she'd vanished. My muddied thoughts couldn't process it. A second later, blue lights flashed and a low pitch blared over the intercom.
This wasn't a fire drill, or a bomb threat, or anything I'd ever seen before. A moment later a man I'd never seen before bursted through my door and was shouting something about how I was an idiot. I vaguely noticed a Department of Chronoalignment badge affixed to his blazer. He swiped my tablet off of my desk and frantically tapped.
It turns out, I'd overlooked part of the young woman's assignment. In my boredom, I missed a crucial instruction and messed up a whole timeline. I spent the rest of the day giving information to DoCa agents and watching them send people back to try and fix my mistake. Over the course of the day I found out that the one hit wonder's song would inspire a world leader of some importance and screwing with that had some serious repercussions.
DoCa managed to minimize the damage though. The song topped the charts, the leader got instated, and mostly all was well. I asked around the office about the young lady but no one seemed to know who I was talking about.
Cut to a week later and I have a new desk, and a massive pay cut. My new badge read "Division of Minor Interruptions" and as I stared at my assignment (Place canine fecal matter at specified coordinates) I opened a new tab. And started typing-
"Full disclosure this happened a week ago but TIFU by erasing a person from existence and now I send poo through time". | "Don't you think she has enough songs already?" Said Bernard, the co-CEO of *Love Sings INC*. This man was frustrated, head sweaty and his heavy face was on fire from this 2 hour-long company meeting.
"I think you forgot our policy and company saying, Bernard!" Stated the CEO and headmaster, Ms. Lueson. Her brown bobbed haircut bounced above her shoulders while she stood straight and perfectly in her form-fitting business pantsuit. "Remember our quote? *'Some say the world runs on love, which is true, and love makes money. The world runs on money!'*" She shouted the quote with pride, looking around the boardroom and across the long spruce wood table that had everyone sitting at.
"I still think we should change our motto..." Muttered Jane from the Heartbreaker Dispatch. Lueson did nothing but shake her head and put on a smile.
"I know Taylor has an abundance of heartbreak songs, but what is one more to hurt? She'll fall in love with practically any person we send to her, and any song she releases will most likely reach the charts for a minimum amount of time!"
A bald older man who sat the exact opposite end of the long table nodded his head and raised his hand, gathering the attention of everyone in the room. "I agree, I think we can pump out a few more love-songs and we might be able to get her another award show nomination." Lueson clapped her hands together and smirked, raising her eyebrow as she eyed the people in presence.
"Okay, so all in favor of another Taylor Swift song?" About 75% of the formal dressed people in the room raised their hands, showing their approval of sending out another heartbreaker agent to generate love-songs.
"Alright, now lets talk about what heartbreaker to send out," Lueson started, sitting back down in her swirly padded office chair. "Jane, what employees could we possibly dispatch? I want this song to talk about a different type of man that's not been talk about in her past songs."
Jane bit her lip and her eyes wavered around, considering how hard it'd been to think up another guy that could be different for Taylor Swift. "Well, he's no Harry Styles but I was thinking we could send an actor out? One of my actors maybe, and that could possibly raise the chance of Taylor writing a song about maybe a liar.. Cause he's so good at acting?" Jane questioned, even she was unsure.
The room stayed silent, as people wrote down notes and shifted through paper. Or others just sat there awkwardly, waiting for the decision to be made by Lueson.
The CEO tapped her finger on her chin, nodding at the idea and looked around the room. Eyebrows curling in confusion at the lack of opinions and enthusiasm. "Why is no one clapping? That's a great idea Jane!"
After being told to, everyone in the meeting room clapped as many 'yes' and 'good ideas' clashed around in speech. Lueson smiled and stood up once more.
"Then it is settled, Jane you may choose one of your actors from the heartbreaker department to dispatch out to Taylor. I expect this to take 6 to 7 months until we see Taylor write another song. Good meeting everyone!"
|
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[WP] You run an agency of time travelers who are dispatched to break the hearts of famous singers through out their lives and inspire their timeless music. | "I quit." Gary exclaimed when he returned from his mission.
His boss, Stacey was fairly confused as this was her first employee to just up and quit. This was everyone's dream job, going back in time to break someone's heart, just to return to a song from that artist. Some people called it an art of their own.
The cool thing about time travel is that as long as you travel to a time from before your own birth, you generate a random genetic code which results in a different appearance. This was implemented by *Timeless Music Co.* when they first came up with the idea of music making. Luckily they figured out an algorithm to settle the genetic code at a specific combination allowing you to look as appealing or appalling as necessary.
Stacey finally blurted out to Gary before the front door of the building swung shut, "What happened? Did it not go as planned?"
"Yes, it went exactly as planned Stacey. I'm just sick of it, how many times do I need to visit this girl before we can just agree each song she writes about me sucks?!" Said Gary with an increasing volume throughout the statement.
"Listen, I know it's frustrati.."
Gary interrupted, "YOURE DAMN RIGHT ITS FRUSTRATING! WHY DONT YOU GO AND TRY TO HOLD A CONVERSATION WITH TAYLOR SWIFT" | "You bastard! How could you!" She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping it would suppress the tears from rolling down her face.
"Myra, baby, come on. Don't do this to us!"
"How dare you put this on me. You said you were mine...you promised ..." her strength eroded as she fell to the floor, her long, brown curls sweeping across her face, catching themselves in her stream of tears.
She knew about his past life, she knew who he was when they started dating. So, maybe she was to blame for her own heartache. She now realized it was her own suspicions that lead her to rummage through his bag, to pick up his personal comm, and sift through the messages.
But he had promised her it was over. He had promised her he wouldn't go back to the agency anymore; promised her that his life of time traveling affairs was meaningless and done with.
It was a new photo, folded and tucked away in his drawer, that confirmed her suspicions. The ink quality and clarity of the image told her it was new, but the technology to physically print photos had been lost for decades since the climate summits had forced their eradication.
She was beautiful, the woman in the photo; and Myra recognized her. Her sleek, auburn hair caressed her cheek as her sensuous eyes spoke what she meant.
Across the back of the photo she had scribbled:
"Don't forget me, I beg. I know I'll never find someone like you." |
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[WP] You run an agency of time travelers who are dispatched to break the hearts of famous singers through out their lives and inspire their timeless music. | "I quit." Gary exclaimed when he returned from his mission.
His boss, Stacey was fairly confused as this was her first employee to just up and quit. This was everyone's dream job, going back in time to break someone's heart, just to return to a song from that artist. Some people called it an art of their own.
The cool thing about time travel is that as long as you travel to a time from before your own birth, you generate a random genetic code which results in a different appearance. This was implemented by *Timeless Music Co.* when they first came up with the idea of music making. Luckily they figured out an algorithm to settle the genetic code at a specific combination allowing you to look as appealing or appalling as necessary.
Stacey finally blurted out to Gary before the front door of the building swung shut, "What happened? Did it not go as planned?"
"Yes, it went exactly as planned Stacey. I'm just sick of it, how many times do I need to visit this girl before we can just agree each song she writes about me sucks?!" Said Gary with an increasing volume throughout the statement.
"Listen, I know it's frustrati.."
Gary interrupted, "YOURE DAMN RIGHT ITS FRUSTRATING! WHY DONT YOU GO AND TRY TO HOLD A CONVERSATION WITH TAYLOR SWIFT" | I couldn't believe it was her.
Looking at her in the flesh was...was stunning to say the least. Her jet black hair, twinkling eyes and hourglass figure would make any man look twice. But her voice...her voice. It seemed as if the choirs of heaven had lost a singer, and she now resided in Tara's voice-box. In the future, she was one of the biggest stars of our time. She changed music as humans knew it, and was held up to the same standards ad Beethoven or Mozart.
I remembered the first time I saw her. It was at Reever's bar. I was one of the few who heard her perform for the first time ever. And I knew right there and then that she would be going places. That she would change music as we knew it.
And here she was waiting tables.
"What would you like to order sir?"
She was *right here.* The star herself. I forced myself not to stare, and managed "err...just some frees and hash whites."
A frown creased he perfect face. "You mean fries and hash browns, sir?"
*Stupid, stupid.* "Yes, yes of course, my mistake."
She flashed me one of her stunning smiles that roused entire crowds in the future. "No problem, sir. Be about fifteen minutes."
This was worth it. It was most certainly worth it.
***
Despite the rocky start, we grew close. Just as the Organization had said we would. They knew her tastes and preferences, and I had been a match. It helped that I was a huge fan, so they knew I wouldn't back out at the last moment.
See, Tara had no interest in music when I met her. In our 3 years together I had pushed her towards music, and she seemed to enjoy it, but there needed to be *something.* Something that pushed her over the edge.
I knew it had to be done. I knew I had to make her great, she deserved it. She deserved all the love she would get, all the money, all the fans. And yet I hesitated. Not for my sake, but for hers. Would she recover? Would she move on?
It was a risk I would have to take.
***
"Derek, what the hell was that?" I called from the shower. There had been some sort of noise downstairs. Had he fallen? Did something break?
I shouldn't have been worried, but something seemed...off. I hurriedly wrapped a towel around me. It was my favorite one. Derek had gotten it for me, and it had my name Tara embroided in gold letters on the front. I didn't even touch my hair, I just ran...something was wrong, I knew it.
I found him on the couch.
He seemed at peace, as if he were sleeping. This peace was belied by the trickle of blood coming out of his ear and the small pistol in his hand. Oh god.
Why Derek?
I was crying now. Damn it. Damn it all. The one man I had loved, cared about...and this happens?
***
The police came and went, did their interviews, yadda yadda yadda. I just felt hollow, as if something was broken inside me. But I had to stay strong dammit. What would Derek think if he saw me like this, moping and crying. I had to honor his memory.
And that's exactly why I still went to the music classes. Derek would have wanted me to keep going. I did it for him. Hannah said I had made great progress, that there was new emotion in my voice.
I had my first public performance coming up at Reever's bar this Saturday. |
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[WP] You are the last bandit standing out of the 6 who tried to rob the main character. Write out your thought process and rationale as to why you keep attacking. | It should have been easy.
One old man tottering along next to a worn-out bull and an overflowing cart. Overflowing with rags and half-rotten food, maybe, but wealth is relative. Reidar fell before the others even knew what happened. He had jumped from their cover on his own, sure on his victory and aiming for a bigger part of the prize. When he grabbed the old man and put his knife to his throat, that should have been the end of it. Instead, Reidar had fallen to the ground with the old man’s knife sticking out from his chest. He took just enough time dying that his expression changed from grim victory to confused desperation.
Maybe they should have known then. They should have turned around. But travelers had gotten fewer, bringing fewer possession with them, more like beggars. One lucky shot didn’t mean anything. The twins, Sol and Kol, lumbered onto the road in a rage. Even half jogging they were slow, but so big and powerful they should have mowed down both the old man and his ox. Their woodcutter axes would finish this.
I sent young Selia to hold the bull steady, allowing her to help but keeping her out of the fight. I shouldn’t have let those big eyes sway me, but I was getting old and we needed new people to be ready. Even if those people were getting younger and younger. Childhood is one of the first victims of war.
I made up the rear, making sure we pinned him to the side of his cart. A howl of rage and grief warned me that Bjorn had left his look-out post and was stumbling down the hill towards us. One hand waving an oversized knife, the other gripped tight around the stick that kept him from falling. “That old bastard is mine!”
That was when I knew that this was going to be bad. Normally, we would beat them up a little and send them on their way. We just wanted the goods, not their lives. Sure, some might put up a fight and accidents happen, but we weren’t murderers. Except this man had killed Reidar, and Reidar’s father had been watching.
The old man seemed to realize at the same moment I did, but where my determination faded his strengthened. He threw off his patched cloak and stood tall, the setting sun glinting on a magnificent wave of grey hair falling over broad shoulders. Sol and Kol barely managed to hesitate before he sprang into action. Those moves shouldn’t have been possible. He slid to the side and a long, slim blade materialized in his hand. One moment shining bright in the dusty road, the next moment dripping blood as the two strongest workers of my village collapsed in a heap at his feet.
I nearly dropped my own sword. One of the finest of the village and the pride of my family, it now looked like a dirty and misshapen piece of steel. I couldn’t fight that. None of us could. I managed to collect myself just in time to grab a hold of Bjorn when he reached us. He was frothing in rage, mumbling and shouting incoherently. A dried up old man who just lost both his son and his only support. So many families had lost their support now. How could I ever feed them all?
The strange man stood silently watching us. I didn’t believe him old anymore no matter how much grey dotted his hair. He moved with the speed and strength of a man at his peak. A trained man at his peak. I realized this had been a trap, a set-up to catch us, just as I realized how wrong I had been to bring Selia along. Her first raid and she was filled with the delusion of immortality that would be the downfall of every youth if given the chance. I had given her that chance.
I cried out for her to stop, but it was too late. She had crawled underneath the bull, stupid and brave child, and come up behind the stranger. She raised her knife to plunge it into his back. A fierce determination in her face. I almost believed she could do it. The strange man kept his eyes on me and Bjorn the whole time, only straightened a little and shifted his grip on his sword. Then he turned to the side and slid his sword through Selia’s tiny chest. Her eyes opened in surprise and a small sound of pain escaped her lips. I dropped my arms in defeat. How could such life, such joy, be gone from this world? I barely even noticed when Bjorn barreled into the stranger and joined his son on the ground.
Just this morning I had kissed my wife goodbye and hugged Selia’s ailing mother. I had promised her Selia would return, completely healthy and probably insanely bored. Even when he saw the cart I didn’t worry. I thought I gave her a safe job. This didn’t happen. This shouldn’t happen.
I looked at the ground, my eyes moving over the now still bodies of all my companions. Of the saviors of our village. Then I looked at the stranger. He stared back at me with a challenge, hard eyes in a hard face. He didn’t move towards me, but he angled the sword in my direction. The life-stealer. He had killed not just my companions, not just my friends. He had killed their family, my family, our whole village. And he was so cold about it. If the devil ever walked the earth, it was now and in this man’s shape.
I knelt on the ground for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to think of what to do. Then I realized it wasn’t a choice. I was dead anyway, and so was everything I held dear in life. The only thing I could do, was try to send this devil back where he belonged.
I picked up my sword and charged.
| The blue hair should have been a dead giveaway. They should have known. Yet, he and his band of merry mischief-makers had been compelled into a confrontation with this terrible fiend. Years of experience, years. Seamus and his band had controlled this portion of the kingdom with ease with their unique set of skills. Yet, they were now all dead. Almost inexplicably so. He raised his sword, and charged forward by no will of his own. He swung it with all of the force he could muster, only for it to rebound off of thin air. Seamus crashed to the ground, he should have known. Plot armor. |
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[WP] You are the last bandit standing out of the 6 who tried to rob the main character. Write out your thought process and rationale as to why you keep attacking. | Frank fell down with no grace, his dignity crushed together with his armor of flesh. My short-termed comrades panicked at the sight and charged at the traveler with their meager weapons. Unsurprisingly, their sudden burst of courage was not rewarded.
However, as I am someone who does not simply let go of an opportunity, I slipped from behind and thrust my rapier to the traveler's back. I'm fairly confident when it comes to swordplay, so imagine my surprise when the traveler evaded it. Mind you, he evaded it in a hair's width, but the fact that he managed to do so at all stunned me. What amazing reflexes.
As I gaped in awe, his large sword bellowed and aimed to cut me in half. I felt luck shower upon me as I managed to jump away from its trajectory, but alas, the traveler's eyes are still filled with bloodlust. Fear struck my bones, and the coward in me started to take care of things.
"Why don't we take a break?" I found myself saying. "You did just kill my friends. In memory of them, it would be nice if you at least pretend you had a hard time."
His expression didn't change. Looks like today will be my death day. Embracing that fact, I readied my sword, the only thing I could do right now is die a warrior's death. I'm not comforted with the idea, but it did gave me the bravery to move forward.
As I did so, however, the traveler merely turned around and went away. I stopped in my tracks, no words were exchanged, but I felt grateful nonetheless. We might had been enemies, but we bear each other no ill will.
I spent the afternoon of that day digging five graves.
| For the love of Kynareth...Joe, Sally, John, Blake....even Hjalldmir, all dead. This man is a monster, a true killing machine. We never should have jumped him in the middle of this dark forest, what were we thinking? He'd never let me live, never let me go. I'll have to avenge my friends or die trying. Joe stabbed him four times, Sally shot him in the head with an arrow, and he threw four fireballs at Blake. He should be near dead and drained. If I go now, maybe I have a chance to end it. Now, NOW! Why did he stop moving for a second? Where'd those potions and Mammoth Snout on his belt go?
*Turned to ash. |
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[WP] The reason why no other species has contacted us yet is because we are not considered to be living | The metal doors of the research center eased open with with a puff of air.
Coming trough it was a bland creature with a spring in his step and a smile on his face.
That was, if he had the ability do so. In any case, he seemed cheerful.
The creature wobbled itself excitedly into the large room ahead.
A similar creature seated at a desk filled with monitors turned his chair to face him, "Hello, sir. Today's the day, huh?"
"You're damn right it is!" he replied with a smile, or he would have if he had a mouth to smile with.
Telekinetic messages can be puzzling sometimes.
In any case, the message resonated with joy so a smile it was.
He hurried to the commander's seat in the center of the room and eased himself down.
"Earth!" he blasted out with telepathic glee, "Stars! It's been so long. I'm so curious to see what they're up to."
The other creature, Bendrik, brimmed contently to himself like a parent overseeing an excited child, "Let's find out shall we?"
"Hey, hey. You think those silly Greeks are still at it?" wondered the commander, "They made some good progress."
"We'll find out," replied Bendrik, "I've finished downloading the data from the monitoring station. Soon we'll know what they've been up to these past millennia."
The commander eased himself into the back of his seat allowing the connectors on it to click in to place and feed the data into his brain.
A joyful humming filled the telepathic channels as the commander reviewed centuries of data in seconds.
With each passing second the joy emitted died down until it was a morose static.
The commander disconnected from the connectors and sat up right.
Bendrik, who had also been reviewing the data, silently turned his seat to face him.
The commander stared at the floor with defeat smeared across his face, "What happened, Bendrik? What happened?"
"Well, sir. I.." started Bendrik.
"They were doing so well!" interrupted the commander, "The greeks, "*philosphy*!", their whole journey to self-discovery."
Their otherwise constantly buzzing brains rang hollow.
"It seems like Earth, like many other planets, has chosen survival and safety over discovery." answered Bendrik.
"They content themselves not with knowledge and pursuit of their goals but by whatever those in power tell them to enjoy." cried the commander.
"Their lives revolve around self-sustain, seeking a mate, reproducing. I thought these creatures had intelligence yet they seem no different from the other animals on this planet."
"The ability to reflect. The ability to view things from a perspective different from their own. Self-insight. They had it all, Bendrik. Everything was there."
Bendrik carefully eased himself back in the conversation, "They did pretty well, all things considered. They made a lot of progress, Sir."
"Yes," the commander replied blandly, "They progressed right up to the point where any more progression became frightful and scary."
The commander sunk back down in his seat, "The worst thing is they know they're missing something. This inner desire to accomplish, to do and know more."
"But rather than act they distract themselves until this feeling fades or becomes forgotten."
"Any goal is only worth pursuing if it ultimately adds to their comfort. Risks are scary. There has to be a return on investment."
The commander stood tall, stared blank ahead and spoke after a moment of silence, "An app to measure the amount of water in a water bottle." he scoffed.
A burst of static filled the telepathic channels, mimicking a sigh.
"Such a pity," said the commander, "Alright, chalk her down and lets move on."
Bendrik nodded, "Planet Earth, status changed from 'Living' to 'Surviving'."
"Entry altered," said Bendrik, "What now, Sir?"
The commander slumped in his chair, resting his face on his fist, "I want to watch the flamingos." | The scans turned up normal, not a sign of life. Our Civilization, floating amongst the fake lights; The stars, is alone.
Our kind rejoiced when we found the first intelligent species apart from ourselves in the great void of space. It took long enough for one thing, our algorithms dictated very precisely that there would be many more species out there. We had run through every scenario technically speaking yet the planets that should have been fertile to even basic microbial life were stagnant. A space devoid of anything but natural phenomena, we become lonely. It wasn't until one of our long range, scout based Civ-ships detected that which we now call 'The Red God'. The Planetary system wasn't exceptional, 9 orbital rocks and one low energy sun heating them. The Civ-ship warped within the 4th's Planets' orbit. Our craft were only fitted with simple weapons at the time, millennia of peace weakened us.
The Planet's' surface was not dirt, ice, rock or ice like we knew, it was metal. Towers of grey reaching into orbit let loose an endless stream of metallic spacecraft which fired on the Civ-ship reletenssly. The entire planet lit up and let loose with every armament from plasma, nuclear, laser and solid.
"We have encountered life! They seem hostile but they cannot harm us,'" The Commander of the Civ-ship relayed. It would take a few minutes to reach across the lightyears of distance between them but the message was set. The simple surface railguns of the 4th planet could not hope to penetrate the shield of the Civ-ship, a few hours later our Military showed up. We as a species have fought a lot, when one gets a big gun, the other gets a bigger one. We knew they were an AI at that stage, we had adapted this way of life a long time ago, yet always with a biological base, never pure robotics. Whoever created this made a mistake. It only took a basic Glasser. The Civ-ship engaged it's frontal lasers and accelerated in a rhythmic orbital pattern that covered every square inch of the planet and incinerated every part from the surface to 100m below. We observed lifeboats being ejected from the planet prior.
We let them spread. We could have destroyed them but we let them journey, because we were lonely. This robotic species. We don't know who created them but we know they are the only beings we share the universe with and shall not interfere with their progress unless they become a threat. We subtly encourage them to search areas of this vast universe we have not yet explored, in the hope we find something alive out there, besides us. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | David sat next to me on the couch laughing as he tried again to grab my phone. We tussled, he pressed his face to mine - touching foreheads as he kissed me gently on the lips.
"Why won't you let me see them? You're being ridiculous." I could see something - his eye?
No. All I saw was haze. The opthalmologists diagnosed me with macular degeneration 2 years ago. That's the end of the road for a surgeon. After a slew of second opinions I took early retirement and convinced David to take a sabbatical. We'd been together 20 years - since I first saw him across on the quad in our first month of medical school. We looked at each other and we just knew we'd found a kindred spirit.
Our careers engulfed our 20s and 30s and by our 40s we'd just settled into our stride. Different hospitals, different fields, no kids, no pets - just each other. It was heaven.
In the two years since "D-day" we had gone just about everywhere. The suitcase in the corner of the sitting room still had some dirt from the rice field in Vietnam where David thought it would be hilarious to try his hand at creating the world's first rice zen garden. We'd got to Turkey and Tibet, the Gold coast and Phuket and even got in two wild life safaris in Botswana. When my eye sight got worse we stuck to the more touristy things we'd always wanted to do but never got round to - the bold, brash Pompedou centre in Paris, the bright colours of the Princess Reine Sofia museum in Madrid and the pink-purple splendour of the Japanese cherry festival. We just managed to get to the tulip festival in Amsterdam and squeeze in Vietnam (David wanted to try a cookery course) before the eyes gave up for good.
Every now and then I can focus but it's getting harder. As David and I lay together on the couch he pulled away and tried again to grab my phone.
"I want to see it! This "perfect image" that you took us on this International roadtrip to capture. I bet it was Mexico - you've always had such a fascination with that Day of the Dead and those skulls! Or the Taj Mahal - you've always liked the romance of that mausoleum to love. Or maybe something really cheesy like the pebbles on Brighton beach when you insisted on making an artistic sculpture to immortalise our luuuuuurrrve!"
I grinned and handed him the phone. A David-shape pounced on it and I concentrated as hard as I could as his face gradually came into focus. I could see him, his green eyes staring at the screen intently as he swiped through my prized photos on my battered iPhone. His face looked more and more puzzled as he looked at what I knew was there - photo after photo of David. David on the beach looking pensive. David in Milan looking harried. David on the sofa napping with arms and legs gloriously akimbo.
"You've got to be kidding me - where is this image we went on such a wild goose chase for?"
I smiled as I drew him close and said, "You have been my soulmate in this world and the next. I only started living the day you came into my life. You are the first person I want to see when I get up in the morning and the last person I want to see when I get into bed. The sabbatical was just so I could take you to all the places you've nagged me about but that we never took the time to go to. The only image I want to remember - is you....."
I held his face as long as I could as our tears ran. He leant in to kiss me and his face blurred and became haze. This was the last image I would see.
It was perfection. | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | We were used to sitting in doctor's offices by now. I had become numb to hearing "it didn't work" and "don't worry, we'll keep trying - you'll conceive next time." But this time was different - I knew I had a short amount of time before my vision would go, and my dream was to see the face of my child, our child, before it was dark forever. This was our second time trying IVF, and I had a confidence that I hadn't felt before - this was the time. The doctor walked in as I clenched my husband's hand.
"You did it."
We've spent all of our money on radiation for ovarian cancer and attempting to get pregnant that we had nothing left. We had no money for a crib, so my husband built one. Occasionally throughout the day my sight would go black and I would wonder if this was it, but a little kick from my womb would snap me back. During ultrasounds I would carefully study each crease on the child's face, just in case my sight would give out before they were born. We had the option of learning the sex, but I refused - I wanted to be able to see it for myself.
Six months into the pregnancy I began to lose my color vision. Everything was duller, but I was still able to see my belly grow larger each week. While cleaning the kitchen one evening, I felt a warm liquid stream down my leg. Assuming it was urine, as incontinence was common during this pregnancy, I grabbed a dish towel and waddled to the bathroom. While my color perception was off, I noticed a reddish hue on the cloth and began to scream.
I couldn't lose this baby. I needed to see them.
In the ER the fluorescent lights seemed brighter than usual but the nurses' faces were blurry. I was hooked up to an ultrasound and my world stood still as we waited for a heartbeat. For the first time since getting pregnant, I turned away from the screen and closed my eyes.
"She's fine. She's going to be okay, you're going to be okay."
She? I opened my eyes and there was darkness. A hue of grey was centered in my vision, but nothing more. I whipped my head towards my husband, but there was nothing. Just a slate-shaded cave. Frantically, I looked toward the ultrasound screen and the doctor, but still, nothing. It was gone.
Three months went by and the grey faded into black. I was angry at how I could no longer help around the house or work. "You're the home for our baby, sweetheart, and that's all we need," my husband would say. The baby I would never see.
I delivered Moseley in August. As the doctor placed her in my arms, I ran my hand over her small face. I felt her nose, her puffy cheeks, and a little patch of hair on her head. "It's brown, like her mom's," the delivery nurse told me.
I closed my eyes and smelled the top of her head. Everything lingered longer in my nose after I lost my sight. I opened my eyes and saw her face. No gray. No black. But her. Only her. I saw nothing else in the room, not my husband, the doctors, the nurses, the fetal monitor, nothing.
Behind me, I heard a voice whisper as my vision went dark again for the final time.
"You did it." | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's probably 7a.m. The bedroom ceiling is glowing faintly with curtain filtered sunlight. I miss watching the dust motes dance. But it's okay.
It's been 20 years since we sat with two mugs of coffee between us. I should have stolen more glances of you back then. But it's okay.
It's been 15 years since we finally got our own place and more than two mugs in the apartment. It was for just in case we have dinner guests. We hardly did. But it's okay.
It's been 10 years since we heard the doctor read out the result of my failing eyesight. We argued about traveling and you cried again. But it's okay.
It's been five years since we found Mollie, my guide dog, your second snuggle buddy. I'm starting to feel my way around our place a little more. But it's okay.
It's probably 8a.m. It's a weekend so you won't be up yet. Recently, you keep asking me what else I want to see. I've seen everything I want to see.
20 years ago. You were blushing so much. Mumbling and talking with your hands about your favourite bands because I asked. I watched you drink your hot matcha tea while I took smaller sips of my mocha on the second floor of the coffee shop.
15 years ago I saw your eyes stare at every inch of the walls, ceiling, floor before lying down and breathing out a small "it's perfect". We were giggly and bought too much kitchenware for just two people. I'll never tire of watching you cook in the small but cosy kitchen.
10 years ago I watched your hand tighten around mine at the doctor's office. I saw determination and recklessness on your face a month after when I came home to you sitting at the dining table with our passports. You teared up and said we should have gone years ago. The house was empty for five months.
5 years ago I watched you sign the papers for a new occupant in our small apartment, Mollie. Beautiful Mollie. More often than not, you'd be asleep with her on the couch after I step out of the shower. Everything illuminated by the TV screen looked like a coloured blur at this time.
It's probably 9a.m. I can't read the clock on the wall anymore. I can't make out the pattern on our blankets either. But I can feel you and it's okay. I must have moved too much. You turned around, said good morning. Gently, pulled me under your chin and fell asleep again.
I don't need to travel anymore. I don't need to stay up hoping I can see stars again. The perfect image has always been there. Soaked in sunlight, inches from my face. The one last perfect image I want to see has always been you. | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's been about a year since the diagnosis. The doctors said it was incurable and it would rapidly progress. Luckily the doctor didn't know everything in this case. The initial estimate was that I'd be completely blind within a couple of weeks but, like I said...one year later and here we are.
After the diagnosis there were a lot of tears as to be expected, mostly from my mate...and myself...ok a lot from myself...shut up I can't help that I'm sensitive.
So about a week after it happened we decided to use the funds we'd saved up from working to go in search of what I called my "final sunrise" something that would stick with me for the rest of time. It started in London, we saw Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (a little too rich for my tastes but hey, to each their own), the Millennium Wheel was really cool, though being that high up gave me vertigo.
After London, we went north, to the land where my family hailed, Scotland! I got to see our family estate and got to show my mate around it. The air was so clear that day and the sky the purest blue. But still, that sunset escaped me. A month after the United Kingdom and we were off to Egypt for a pilgrimage to see the place where my and his faith were practiced in earnest millennia ago. By now my sight had begun to narrow but still, the Great Pyramids were as awe inspiring to me as they must have been to travelers all those era's ago.
Though we couldn't go everywhere we wanted, because of work, because of life, because of all those little moments. We still went on one last trip. My mate surprised me over dinner one evening in October, right around Halloween, he'd gotten two round trip tickets to Tokyo. Both of us being unapologetic fans of anime of all kinds, it was the magnum opus of our escapade around the world. Tokyo, Kyoto and the Great Shrine of Inari, and of course, the Hokkaido Fox Village. I got to pet one of those catdogs up close! Best. Day. EVER! I could just make out those derpy looks on their muzzles as they tried to steal my backpack.
So...did I ever find my sunset? I'm about to. This will probably be the last thing I see. I only have a few days left before it goes completely dark. This will most likely be my last time writing like this. So much for my career as a writer right? ah well. I'd go on a spiel about the best-laid plans and something deep like that as I'm often known to do, but as my best man just pointed out, I'm about to be late for my own wedding!
I don't know if anyone will ever read this diary thing besides me and Eric, but if you happen to stumble upon it take my advice: See the world as if it was the last time you'd be able to. Take in each color, each detail, absorb it and memorize it, you'll be glad you did later.
(So that's my first time ever posting here and the first time EVER publishing anything I've written online. I know, my grammar sucks.) | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I've been saving this compliment for months now. It's nothing too special. Not a Magnum Opus by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll have the desired effect. My vision is nearing its end. I'm not scared. To some, blindness may be terrifying; however, I had a plan. We've taken measures to assure a long and comfortable life when it does finally go. Besides, I have her.
I'm sitting up in bed, an activity I'd seen much of recently, and contemplating my master plan. A flurry of emotion washes over me. It usually does when my mind becomes occupied with her. I panic momentarily, fearing the worst, but manage to bring myself to peace.
I hear footsteps on the landing below. Soft and muffled from the thick green carpet that covers both the tight, clumsy staircase and the attic which had become our bedroom. A movement draws what's left of my vision to the stairs as she hops up the last step.
Draped in her favourite oversized T-shirt, which dropped nearly down to her knees, she flops down next to me. Her beauty never did lie in elegance. Rather, it was her childlike glee and jumpiness that pulled the corners of my lips into a smile. Her imperfections brought her to life, just as they stole my heart the moment I laid my eyes on her. The same eyes that had little life left in them.
I turn over to her and whisper her name. She returns my gaze. "Yes?" she replies. "I have something very important to tell you." I say "You have a very special talent. Something nobody but you can ever do. You alone can make me smile and laugh and feel butterflies in my stomach when moments before I'd been sobbing like a lost child."
I examine her face, awaiting her response. She smiles, slowly at first, then a full grin. Her cheeks rise and she begins to squint, ever so slightly, showing her laugh lines in the corner of her eyes. She shies away from compliments, so her chin tilts downwards. Some loose strands of hair tumble forward and cast small shadows over her face. She's trying to hide, but doesn't break eye contact with me. Her big, brown doe eyes are easy to get lost in.
This adorable smile is one I've come to love. It encapsulates all of her beauty and proves her humbleness. Not knowing just how beautiful she is makes her even more beautiful in a sense. I close my eyes and lean in for a kiss. Our lips touch gently. Then, calmly and carefully, I rest my head in the crook of her neck. We lay together in tranquility, listening to the rise and fall of our chests and the beating of our hearts.
Sleep comes for me. As I feel myself losing consciousness, I recall the image of her shy smile and feel my own lips curl into a grin. My breathing slows and the light fades - forevermore. | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | and as my vision starts to fade
i search tirelessly for the view
the one that i'll see for the rest of my days
the one that will still drive me through;
will it be a sunrise bright
set alight by stark contrast and hue
or maybe the forest on a summer morning
grass glittering with chilling dew;
i can fret as i may and believe what i like
for i never had thought that i knew
but from the second they told me i knew it quite well
i want to see always an image of you.
| I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | She took a step forward, her legs aching with years of experience. Her body was not what it once was, but she had used it well. The bruises, the scars, and even the wrinkles all had a story to tell. How she loved to tell them. Children listened intently, eyes open in awe to the sacrifices of the olden days. Those eyes, so much less scarred than hers.
Her eyes held a mysterious depth that absorbed attention with unsatiable hunger. No one could look at those eyes and come out unscathed. Not even her. The stories these told... And not a single word spoken. She saw empires rise and fall all over again everytime she stood in front of a mirror. She saw images of the Sunedeith War and the Seventh Revolution. She saw the dying embers of what once was her city. She still kept one small black stone from her home, stolen from the garden path of her grandmothers' house. A memento of times past and a reminder of continued survival. Her grandmother had survived the Red Eclipse. Her house was one of the few structures that survived the second fall of Bravor. Not that it mattered. Her grandmother had long ago left this realm. As for her, she never returned to that house. It was old and a painful reminder of war. Much like herself, it had seen too much.
People respected her in a way they would respect a God. They would see in her hope, strength, and guidance. They did not see humanity. She was their victories and failures. She was her ship and her soldiers. Even to the weapons they carried. She was reminder of war. The feared her. Not that she cared about any of it. She had fulfilled her role and now she wanted nothing more than to live as simply Selena.
And to the many children sitting in front of her, she was Selena, the storyteller. Children where the only ones who saw her as just another human. An old lady with bags of treats and stories. Stories their parents would never dare tell them. But oh did they need to know. Knowledge as such was hard to come by. Generations to come would find themselved lacking. And this was dangerous, she knew as much. These stories could not die with her.
She also knew, she had little time. The shakes had started. Her vision blurred day by day. Her field of vision growing small and pitiful. She had seen so much already, feeling she had seen too much of the world for it to matter. But she was wrong.
There was one more thing.
Her mother, as strong of a woman and fighter as she was, was also an lover. As a lover, she was an artist. It led to much suffering but her mother loved life, as dark as it was. She simply painted in darker colours. She always hid a little bit of brightness that you could only catch if you looked for it in the right light. However, it had all been lost in the Seventh Revolution. At least, that is what she believed, until Caleb gave her a box.
Caleb was an orphan of barely 13 years old. Smart as a whip, tough as the rock in her pocket. Like her mother, he was an artist too. He appreciated life the way younglings do, naive and resilient with a mind full of wonder. So much curiosity hidden in the depth of their mind, waiting to come out at a moments notice. When he was found in Aria 72, he held his one material posession close to his chest. At mere 4 years old he had survived the end of the world as he knew it only clutching a box full of dried paints and broken brushes. A strange posession for a boy so young found in the remnants of a T-2378z. But he kept the box close, insisting on becoming the first artist of the New World. His father, a surgeon, had once told him that a world without art was only a skeleton of civilization.
Caleb took his mission with pride, discovering colours even in the solid grey walls of the New Aria settlement. He painted with a passion and precision his father would proud of. Selena had never once seen his work. Caleb always painted in secret.
With expecting eyes and a whispered thank you, he handed her a simple brown box. Inside, a treasure no one but Caleb had seen. A treasure so precious, it would be first shared between them. She knew she wouldn't be able to appreciate every detail, not that it mattered. She opened the box and her world exploded in colour. Even in the blurrines of her sight she would recognise her home anywhere. Selena clutched the rock in her posession close to her chest and smiled, looking up to Caleb. Such a beautiful boy, he reminded her so much of her father. Caleb had given her the most beautiful gift. He had given Selena her home. So she gave him one of his own. As Caleb held the rock in his hand, she looked at his face and the world around her disappeared. But she was not alone. Caleb held her hand and hugged her. No, she was not alone. She had a new family now.
Sorry for formatting or mistakes. English is not my first language and I used my phone to type. Feedback welcome. Enjoy! | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | “There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”
I always hated that quote. I preferred “There’s always a silver lining.” Since it wasn’t so literal for me.
Being blind kind of sucked.
Right, where was I? Oh yes, hating stuff.
I hated that ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ quote. It was because of my condition where my vision slowly shrank, I don’t remember the technical term but most folks call it ‘Tunnel Vision’.
Really hate that.
So I figure I should go out with one last hurrah!
Most folks who are about to be married usually go out to a strip club.
People who are about to die do whatever the hell they want.
I was going to go blind so I figured I’d go find the best looking thing out there and engrave it into my brain that I’d never forget. Problem is, I had no idea what I was looking for.
I hated that feeling of being lost.
But I had money and I had plenty of time so I travelled the world.
Mountains looked nice enough but I was too cold to appreciate them.
Monuments were impressive but they never really lived up to the hype.
Hell I’ve thrown money at dozens of prostitutes just to see a bunch of girls all over me.
My wife really hated that.
Didn’t surprise me that she left.
Honestly it wasn’t even the prostitutes that got her. It was the fact that I spent years away from her looking for the last perfect image.
Well, I’m an idiot. I know that now. I should’ve stayed with her, been there with her. She was that perfect image, the one thing engraved into my head that I’d never forget.
I don’t even care if I’m blind anymore. I’d give up all my senses just to be with her, hell I’d even give up seeing her if I had that chance.
But now it was too late.
I have Tunnel Vision.
And I hate it.
| I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | As the dark, cold reminder of your impending doom looms ever heavy upon your ravaged body and soul and mind, you think of one thing: her. Soon you shall never see, hear, nor touch your beloved and a crushing anxiety squelched all hope of reprieve.
The code blue is called. The reaper stands in the doorway to ever take you away from your life, your love. And then, with but the last gasp of of conscious thought, she brushes death himself aside. As you lie in your final moments of life your world is taken in by azure so beautiful Poseidon would be envious. The last words spoken in unison before you make your inevitable departure ring thus: I love you.
Edit: a repeating clause. This is why you proofread! | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Human cried again today.
We went on an adventure earlier, or at least I thought it would be. We ended up at The Cold Place, and boy do I hate it there. I can't help it, but when I'm there I can't stop shivering. I don't know if it's because its cold, or because I know what's coming.
Human put me on the cold table and Person with Cold Hands came into the room, she always smells like clean. She touched me all over, and I shivered even more. She's really nice, but I don't think I like her. I was hoping that she wouldn't poke me again, but she did. It doesn't really hurt, but it always catches me off guard - and I must always be on guard, to protect Human!
They removed me from the cold table and Human had a long discussion with Person With Cold Hands. They both looked a little worried. I just waited by the door because I couldn't wait to get out of there. Once we got back in the Go Faster, Human sat me down in the seat next to him and looked at me with sad eyes, at least from what I could tell.
What's wrong Human?
He grabbed my head and held my eyes open, taking turns with each one. It was almost like he was looking for something. He just stared at my eyes and sighed. I heard his sniffles.
What is he looking for? Since I was a small, my sight has been slowly been going black so there isn't much to look for in there. Maybe he lost something and thought he might find it in my eyes? Silly Human.
Whatever it is, I can find it. I know I can.
After a long nap, Human started getting adventure stuff together! I was so excited! I hoped it was The Fun Place, I make friends there all the time. Although, I've been ramming into things and other woofs lately - so that might be tough.
To my surprise, we ended up at a huge place with many tall woods. It seemed very familiar. We walked together for a very long time, it was so much fun. I hopped in and out the long tickles from the ground, I swam in the warm wet stuff, and we even played get the round thing in the open field. I was very happy, and so was Human.
As the Big Bright Round Thing started to leave, I couldn't catch my much smaller one that well. I just couldn't see it. That's when Human called me over and we started walking again, but this time we went a little faster. He had to help me on the way, but we made it to a very high place,
We stopped at a top of a ledge. Human sat down in the short tickles from the ground and told me to lay down next to him, which I did - but only if he gave me a belly rub. After an amazing tummy pat, he told me took up. I remember this place now.
Human took me here when I was a small. Other Human met up with us that day, and he brought his Woof with him too - he was a big. That was the first time I sniffed them. Big Woof was very nice and taught me many things. Other Human was also very nice and loving - he gave the best belly rubs.
The four of us had treats and stared at the Big Bright Round Thing being thrown out of the sky. It was very warm and pretty. I told Big Woof that I want to catch it one day, and he said that he'd beat me to it.
Human and Other Human loved each other very much, Big Woof and I could tell. After that day, the four of us were inseparable - our very own pack.
One day, Human started crying and couldn’t stop. Other Human and Big Woof didn't come home that day. I never saw their Go Faster again either. Human said it was totaled, whatever that meant. I really miss them.
Human and I sat in the same spots we were sitting in that day. As the Big Bright Round Thing gets further away, it somehow creates the exact same image we saw with Other Human and Big Woof. I could barely see it, but I knew it was there.
Human started crying again and held me closer. He kept repeating, "One last time, baby, just one more time." as he stroked my ears. Eventually, everything went black.
It's okay Human, I can smell them.
I swear I can smell them.
| I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Katie sighed, blowing hair out of her eyes.
"It's 4:30 AM, Max. The flight's at 6. Do we really need to go now?"
"Yes," I explained, "if I miss this flight and spend my last day of sight in Jacksonville, I'm never gonna let myself forget it."
She smiled.
"Well, it's good to see you at least happy to go to new places."
We got onto the plane with me only falling over a couple times. Katie had gotten pretty good at knowing when I'd trip, and catching me when I did. Having a best friend as good as her never failed to make me smile, even in the early days of the disease when I ate pavement several times a day. Hand always out to help me up, she was one of the few friends I had who'd stuck with me through this hell. She and I had travelled across the globe, looking at various monuments and religious shrines, hoping we'd find something I'd be content to watch as my vision disappeared forever.
Setting up camp in California was easy. I'd pitched enough tents and unrolled enough sleeping bags as a kid that I could do it with my eyes closed. The problem wasn't that. The problem was that I still felt unsatisfied- I didn't feel ready to give up my vision yet, I didn't feel like I'd seen The Perfect Sight. Katie came up on my left. She studied my face for a brief moment.
"Still not it, huh?"
We sat, leaning against a massive tree.
"I just... all this shit we've seen is so cool, y'know? I love it, and I love seeing it with my best friend in the world. It's just that it doesn't *mean* anything to me. I don't have any memories of those wonderful places. I don't feel a connection to them."
"I get that. I'm sorry, Max. I tried to find places for you, places you would like. I guess I just didn't try hard enough..."
Her voice trailed off as she looked down.
"No! No. Katie, you did way more than you had to, way more than I could've ever asked of you. You've been absolutely perfect."
With those last words, the hints of a smile took hold in her face, and something clicked in my brain.
Maybe it was seeing, through permanent tunnel-vision, the way the sun caught her eyes just right and glinted off her golden-brown hair. Maybe it was the way she squeezed my hand when I slipped it into hers. Maybe it was just realizing that the sight I had been looking for had been traveling alongside me for months, and that I was deeply, deeply in love with her.
Whatever it was, I was finally satisfied as the gray closed over her beautiful face, marking the last thing I ever saw. | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I know I'm too late to get any traction here, but I had to speak up: this is my actual situation.
I have a rare genetic disorder called *retinitis pigmentosa*. It starts with night blindness and compromised peripheral vision. Then comes tunnel vision. Loss of color. Then blindness.
Right now, I'm in the night blindness stage with slipping periphery. I'm spending a hefty chunk of 2017 traveling all over the world to see famous sites, or less famous things that I have always wanted to take in. Examples include Scottish moors, ice caves, and the least light-polluted spots on the planet. Suggestions are welcome!
It's interesting to read your entries! | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I get a late start to the day. I pull myself from my sanctuary that most would call a bed and stumble into the bathroom.
"2 Prozac to call down, 2 Adderall if it's too much." The Doctor Said.
The orange pill bottles remained unopened in the medicine cabinet.
I look into the mirror to self-diagnose.
A black cloud surrounds my figure like a gray-scale portrait.
After making myself presentable, I decide to take what could be my last walk with viable sight.
As I walk down the concrete path, I observe a woman smoking a cigarette on her apartment building's stoop. She looks disgusted and spits loudly onto the pavement as we make eye contact. An appalling sight.
The waste bins look neglected. Trash from the nearby convenience stores compliment what little vegetation borders the walkway.
I start to wonder if I'm going to miss seeing this neighborhood.
I finally arrive at the park and take a seat on a creaky wooden bench. The peeling red paint reminds me of times in my life I ended up here. Morning coffee, late drunken nights, and phone calls I wish to never remember. It all comes back to here.
As I'm lost in thought, a woman sits next to me. An uncontrollable smile crosses my face as I see her. She smiles back.
"Lovely morning we're having” I announced.
"Not in the slightest" She laughed.
"Can I interest you in a coffee?" I asked.
"I think I have the time"
We both walk to the café’ nearby and we passionately discuss a short story in the New Yorker she held by her side.
The black cloud starts to fade to white and I feel alive again.
| I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | This is just my actual life. It's called retinitis pigmentosa. I'm going to Iceland to look at stuff in April. I know this is violating the rules, or whatever, but I just can't not say something. Also nonfiction is subjective enough that some would argue there is no nonfiction, that all writing is interpretation, and that all that matters is whether the story is well written. So let's just admit nonfiction is still writing, and not take this down. Please.
The truth is the things I want to see most are not a sweeping landscape despite my current mission to go to Iceland and look at stuff.. The things I want to see the most are simple and mundane. I want to see my husband's face as he ages, my children's as they grow. I want to see as much of my family as I can before I can't anymore.
It isn't even that I will want to see them, it is that I want them to be seen. There is this incredible emotional need to see and be seen. I don't want them to ever feel like I don't see them.
It is silly to think that I need to physically see them in order to metaphorically see them... but in a weird way we do need that physicality, that immediacy, that connection.
One day I will wander the gallery of my mind, years after I can no longer see, and I will look at the faces of my family. The image will be faded and blurred, pieced together from small fractions of their faces that I glimpsed at in the last year's when my vision was a small pin prick of clarity in a swirl of blurred colors and shapes.
The last image is a collage hung in my heart and revisited impulsively, driven by a nagging physical need to SEE them, to know them as they are, the image shifting, morphing, fracturing and fraying...
And when I let that image go, when I stop feeling that last image to be a true image of them, stop needing it to be so, that moment will be the first moment when I will be truly blind, a true citizen of the sightless world. I will be a new self in a new world.
The last image will be an idea, a memory of a previous life, a previous me. | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | *"When I consider how my light is spent...."*
I remember with absolute clarity the day they told me. Miltonian Optic Neuritis - a rare (and seemingly impossible) condition where the optic nerve begins to simply disintegrate. Unlike many disorders of the eye this one does not slowly diminish your vision, gradually darkening the world until nothing remains. They warned me it would be no gradual thing - indeed it probably would've gone unnoticed except for an especially in-depth routine checkup. Instead one day the optic nerve would be severed and I would be blind.
"Ten years and five months..." the doctor said "...give or take a couple weeks."
I noted that the diagnosis was oddly specific. He shrugged and said something about the power of diagnostic medicine. He also noted another odd side effect of the condition - whatever it was that was killing the nerve endings in my eyes was also going to stimulate the vision centres of my brain. My memory had always been good, but the doctor explained that as the disease progressed I would be able to remember things I had seen with greater and greater clarity until at last my vision would vanish and whatever I saw would be etched on my mind forever.
I went home. Delivered the news to my wife and my daughter. She was young then - only five years old - and didn't really understand why Mommy and Daddy were crying. After a moment's recollection I came to agree with her. Why was I crying? I had ten years left. Ten years of things I could see. Things I would be able to recall with absolute clarity once the darkness claimed me.
I realised quickly that wasting my time working was not the answer. Yes, the salary was nice, but I did not want my eternal night to be filled with inane lines of code. Instead, I decided, I would travel. See the world and commit the greatest and most beautiful things I could imagine to my mind.
I travelled to Egypt and see the Pyramids. To Jerusalem to see the land that gave birth to three religions. I travelled to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower and the Seine. I waited in line to see the Mona Lisa. I travelled to Moscow to see St. Basil's. To India to see the Ganges. To China to see the Great Wall. To Nepal to see Everest.
I travelled light and cheap. I did not have enough money to spend my day in luxury, but it was worth it. I would gather these things to me and hold them in my mind for as long as I lived. Of course my wife could not come with me (save to Paris, which she had always dreamed of) - we had a daughter to support. One of us had to work. And she understood my predicament. My daughter could not travel either - schooling was important and it took up most of the year. Nor was she interested in sitting with Daddy staring at things.
I travelled to Australia to see Uluru. To Zimbabwe to see Victoria Falls. I even managed to travel to Iraq to see the ancient city of Baghdad.
But seeing these things did not bring me fulfilment. They did not bring me contentment. They were the great works of Man and Nature, but what were they to me. Images that would follow me for the rest of my life, but I felt no connection with them. They held nothing for me.
I tried to find more meaningful things to burn into my mind. The homelands of my ancestors in England, Ireland, Scotland and France. The gravestones of family members I would never again meet and those I had never met. They were not what I was looking for either. Perhaps it was their way of life that I was missing. I signed on a sailing ship and sailed the same sea my Grandfather had. I spent a season working on a farm.
My light was spent when I woke up yesterday morning. Everything was utter dark. There was no light, no shadow, nothing but the vast inky blackness of my new prison. In my wisdom I had made emergency plans everywhere I went. Getting home from Barcelona wasn't easy, but it was doable.
My daughter, now old enough to drive, picked me up at the airport. "Welcome home Daddy..." she said, in the sing-song voice she used to greet me with when she was five "...did you see anything beautiful?"
For a moment I tried to focus my mind on her face. On what she had looked like. But it was blurry. Our of focus. I had been away so long and back so irregularly. And she was changing so much.
I started to cry.
"What's wrong Daddy?" she asked, her voice now sounding concerned. But I knew she wouldn't understand. I had been a fool and wasted all those years, all my light, chasing that which was waiting for me at home all this time. | I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | By his estimate, a full quarter of an hour had passed by the time the heavy wooden doors to the throne room swung open. The Royal Alchemist hastily pressed his forehead to the ground in obeisance, and counted the steps she took to get to the throne.
"You may rise. State your business, Alchemist."
The Queen's dulcet tones rippled through the expanse of the great hall. As the Alchemist rose, he struggled to keep the eagerness from his voice.
"My Queen, may the years fare you well. Blessed by your name, and let the fairness of your visage..."
"Speak freely, Alchemist. We are not in court, and the night wears upon me."
His hand unconsciously tightened around the flask by his side. "My Queen, I come with great tidings. I believe I have finally found the solution for his Majesty's ailment!"
A handmaiden conveyed the flask to her, and the doubt positively slaked off her words as she peered intently at the viscous green liquid swirling within.
“Alchemist, all the physicians near and far disagree as to the precise cause of the ailment befalling his Majesty. Yet, if there is one thing they can agree on, it is that there is no cure in sight. And now, you would have me believe you have proven them all wrong?”
The Alchemist shook his head doggedly. “My Queen, allow me to clarify. I said I found a solution, not a cure. I too believe that there is no way to reverse his Majesty’s failing eyesight, but there may yet be a way to placate him otherwise.”
He deftly retrieved a cloth bundle from within his robes, and gingerly laid out the contents on the granite floor. The fires in the brazier pots flickered, and cast an orange hue on the empty bottles at his feet.
“My Queen, scores of men we sacrificed, but we eventually succeeded in capturing the cries of the sirens which haunt the western coasts. The trick was to use these gossamer sunlight bottles! And that was the final, elusive ingredient we needed to concoct that potion in your hand.”
“And this would help his Majesty?”
“It may not restore his sight, my Queen, but it would… satisfy him. That potion, there is no desire it does not meet! His Majesty will see whatever it is that his heart truly desires, and with that, he will no longer be discontent with the blindness advancing upon him.”
As the seconds coalesced into moments, and as the moments congealed into periods, the Queen’s silence tightened around the Alchemist’s heart like a vise. Was it that she did not believe him? Did she doubt the effectiveness of the salve? Would he have to present as evidence the many apprentices he had tested the curative on, to show her just how the miracle worked?
An eternity passed before she spoke again. “Tell me, Alchemist, do you see these tapestries hanging around you?”
“I… Yes, my Queen. I do.”
“And you know the import of them?”
“Yes. These were each commissioned by his Majesty, to commemorate each spectacle as he encountered them, just in case they turned out to be the one perfect image he was seeking.”
The Queen sprung from her throne, animated by forces unseen, and strode to the leftmost tapestry. “This was the first one, the Forest of Swords. It boggles the mind still, does it not? How the weapons of every soldier who falls in battle, if not retrieved within a day, somehow vanishes and ends up in this Forest, draping like ripened fruits from the boughs of the towering trees. At night, they say, the weapons rattle as they welcome more to join their folds…”
Her hand lingered on the corners of the tapestry, lost in a sea of memories. As she ran the last threads through her fingers, she gracefully transitioned to the next tapestry.
“Or this one, the Glass Dunes of the Drobi. We travelled there the year after, when his Majesty’s vision continued to worsen and the hunger in him to see more of the world sharpened. Changing shapes every other day, I remember how the Glass Dunes sparkled in the fierce sun, reflecting a myriad of colors, outdoing even the most vivid of rainbows…”
“Or what about that one? The Everlasting Village of Westermire? An entire village of souls, condemned to live their last day in perpetuity? The Imperial Mages feared to unravel the raw magic which causes the Village to relive its final day over and over and over, just before the eruption of Mount Orrungus smothers it, and so we lucky ones get to stand outside that eddy of time, observing yet another of the many wonders this world offers…”
The Alchemist’s heart swelled with pride as the Queen picked up the flask again, and his mind raced with the glories which lay ahead. Why, he would always be known as the one to bring peace to the King, the one who managed to create an experience to trump them all.
What would the King see once the liquid found its way into his veins? What manner of tapestry would he commission? Would he even be able to find the words to convey the sights he would see?
Ensconced in his reverie, the Alchemist reacted too slowly to stop his Queen from abruptly dashing the flask upon the floor. A gasp escaped his lungs as the Alchemist saw the precious contents seep away into the cracks.
“Strick that recipe from your books and your memory, Alchemist. This is the end of it.”
“My Queen! Please, you don’t understand! Without that, his Majesty, the King, he…”
“No, Alchemist. It is you who does not understand. The King may never find that perfect vision he seeks, but he will keep trying, and in that expense of effort he will see more than any man ever does in many a lifetime.”
“My Queen! But he will never be content, and the hunger, the hunger will never leave him!”
A beatific, inscrutable smile graced the Queen’s lips.
“What better mark of a human, Alchemist?”
| I wake up and notice more of my vision is gone. Now, I'm completely blind on my peripherals, which, if you had to lay next to my wife at night, would've agreed isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It's inevitable, then. The Doc was right. One day, I'm going to go completely blind, which, if you had seen my wife naked in the shower, may leave you wondering how I haven't gone blind already.
I sigh, roll out of bed, pick myself off the floor and go to the window, knowing in the back of my mind that this may be my last time seeing all of these things, which, if you had seen my wife in the mornings, could've argued that going blind wasn't aaaaall bad.
But I didn't want to go blind, passively; I wanted to go blind, kicking and screaming, like a baby when you splash water in its face while wearing a clown mask, going "Boogity Boogity Boo" (try it - it's quite fun).
I wanted to see the world, damnit! "And see the world I shall," I whispered with fierce determination.
"Honey, are you talking to yourself again?"
"No." Short pause. "Maybe." Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, come back to my bed. I'm cold."
"There's covers," I point out. Anything to keep from getting back in bed, which if you had seen my wife...you get the point. "I'm going out."
Before she could say another word, I about-face and march out the room, down the steps, to the door, and outside - to freedom, to air, to no wife. "Ahhh," I bliss, eyes closed and head tilted back to let the sun shine on my face.
"Having fun?" a voice asks.
I look. It's our neighbor from across the street - Jenny. Or as I like to call her: "Ms. Fine Thang".
Okay, I don't call her that. Out loud, I mean. I do in my head, though. Like, all the time.
She's a 22 blonde, blue-eyed Barbie, and she's in her robe as usual.
"Yeah, you know - 'chilling'. Aha-ha" I reply, playing it cool, which, if you had seen my wife...wait, nevermind, that doesn't apply here.
She smiles at me, and checks her mailbox. "Oh! Looks like I got your mail."
As she gets closer, I notice something: no bra.
I know what I want to see today.
I feel the smile spreading on my face...
She gets closer...
She's slowly down, looking at me smiling, as if she's unsure to do.
She gets closer, and holds out the mail.
Like the kids say: YOLO, I think to myself.
And then I reach forward.
😏 |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | David sat next to me on the couch laughing as he tried again to grab my phone. We tussled, he pressed his face to mine - touching foreheads as he kissed me gently on the lips.
"Why won't you let me see them? You're being ridiculous." I could see something - his eye?
No. All I saw was haze. The opthalmologists diagnosed me with macular degeneration 2 years ago. That's the end of the road for a surgeon. After a slew of second opinions I took early retirement and convinced David to take a sabbatical. We'd been together 20 years - since I first saw him across on the quad in our first month of medical school. We looked at each other and we just knew we'd found a kindred spirit.
Our careers engulfed our 20s and 30s and by our 40s we'd just settled into our stride. Different hospitals, different fields, no kids, no pets - just each other. It was heaven.
In the two years since "D-day" we had gone just about everywhere. The suitcase in the corner of the sitting room still had some dirt from the rice field in Vietnam where David thought it would be hilarious to try his hand at creating the world's first rice zen garden. We'd got to Turkey and Tibet, the Gold coast and Phuket and even got in two wild life safaris in Botswana. When my eye sight got worse we stuck to the more touristy things we'd always wanted to do but never got round to - the bold, brash Pompedou centre in Paris, the bright colours of the Princess Reine Sofia museum in Madrid and the pink-purple splendour of the Japanese cherry festival. We just managed to get to the tulip festival in Amsterdam and squeeze in Vietnam (David wanted to try a cookery course) before the eyes gave up for good.
Every now and then I can focus but it's getting harder. As David and I lay together on the couch he pulled away and tried again to grab my phone.
"I want to see it! This "perfect image" that you took us on this International roadtrip to capture. I bet it was Mexico - you've always had such a fascination with that Day of the Dead and those skulls! Or the Taj Mahal - you've always liked the romance of that mausoleum to love. Or maybe something really cheesy like the pebbles on Brighton beach when you insisted on making an artistic sculpture to immortalise our luuuuuurrrve!"
I grinned and handed him the phone. A David-shape pounced on it and I concentrated as hard as I could as his face gradually came into focus. I could see him, his green eyes staring at the screen intently as he swiped through my prized photos on my battered iPhone. His face looked more and more puzzled as he looked at what I knew was there - photo after photo of David. David on the beach looking pensive. David in Milan looking harried. David on the sofa napping with arms and legs gloriously akimbo.
"You've got to be kidding me - where is this image we went on such a wild goose chase for?"
I smiled as I drew him close and said, "You have been my soulmate in this world and the next. I only started living the day you came into my life. You are the first person I want to see when I get up in the morning and the last person I want to see when I get into bed. The sabbatical was just so I could take you to all the places you've nagged me about but that we never took the time to go to. The only image I want to remember - is you....."
I held his face as long as I could as our tears ran. He leant in to kiss me and his face blurred and became haze. This was the last image I would see.
It was perfection. | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | We were used to sitting in doctor's offices by now. I had become numb to hearing "it didn't work" and "don't worry, we'll keep trying - you'll conceive next time." But this time was different - I knew I had a short amount of time before my vision would go, and my dream was to see the face of my child, our child, before it was dark forever. This was our second time trying IVF, and I had a confidence that I hadn't felt before - this was the time. The doctor walked in as I clenched my husband's hand.
"You did it."
We've spent all of our money on radiation for ovarian cancer and attempting to get pregnant that we had nothing left. We had no money for a crib, so my husband built one. Occasionally throughout the day my sight would go black and I would wonder if this was it, but a little kick from my womb would snap me back. During ultrasounds I would carefully study each crease on the child's face, just in case my sight would give out before they were born. We had the option of learning the sex, but I refused - I wanted to be able to see it for myself.
Six months into the pregnancy I began to lose my color vision. Everything was duller, but I was still able to see my belly grow larger each week. While cleaning the kitchen one evening, I felt a warm liquid stream down my leg. Assuming it was urine, as incontinence was common during this pregnancy, I grabbed a dish towel and waddled to the bathroom. While my color perception was off, I noticed a reddish hue on the cloth and began to scream.
I couldn't lose this baby. I needed to see them.
In the ER the fluorescent lights seemed brighter than usual but the nurses' faces were blurry. I was hooked up to an ultrasound and my world stood still as we waited for a heartbeat. For the first time since getting pregnant, I turned away from the screen and closed my eyes.
"She's fine. She's going to be okay, you're going to be okay."
She? I opened my eyes and there was darkness. A hue of grey was centered in my vision, but nothing more. I whipped my head towards my husband, but there was nothing. Just a slate-shaded cave. Frantically, I looked toward the ultrasound screen and the doctor, but still, nothing. It was gone.
Three months went by and the grey faded into black. I was angry at how I could no longer help around the house or work. "You're the home for our baby, sweetheart, and that's all we need," my husband would say. The baby I would never see.
I delivered Moseley in August. As the doctor placed her in my arms, I ran my hand over her small face. I felt her nose, her puffy cheeks, and a little patch of hair on her head. "It's brown, like her mom's," the delivery nurse told me.
I closed my eyes and smelled the top of her head. Everything lingered longer in my nose after I lost my sight. I opened my eyes and saw her face. No gray. No black. But her. Only her. I saw nothing else in the room, not my husband, the doctors, the nurses, the fetal monitor, nothing.
Behind me, I heard a voice whisper as my vision went dark again for the final time.
"You did it." | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's probably 7a.m. The bedroom ceiling is glowing faintly with curtain filtered sunlight. I miss watching the dust motes dance. But it's okay.
It's been 20 years since we sat with two mugs of coffee between us. I should have stolen more glances of you back then. But it's okay.
It's been 15 years since we finally got our own place and more than two mugs in the apartment. It was for just in case we have dinner guests. We hardly did. But it's okay.
It's been 10 years since we heard the doctor read out the result of my failing eyesight. We argued about traveling and you cried again. But it's okay.
It's been five years since we found Mollie, my guide dog, your second snuggle buddy. I'm starting to feel my way around our place a little more. But it's okay.
It's probably 8a.m. It's a weekend so you won't be up yet. Recently, you keep asking me what else I want to see. I've seen everything I want to see.
20 years ago. You were blushing so much. Mumbling and talking with your hands about your favourite bands because I asked. I watched you drink your hot matcha tea while I took smaller sips of my mocha on the second floor of the coffee shop.
15 years ago I saw your eyes stare at every inch of the walls, ceiling, floor before lying down and breathing out a small "it's perfect". We were giggly and bought too much kitchenware for just two people. I'll never tire of watching you cook in the small but cosy kitchen.
10 years ago I watched your hand tighten around mine at the doctor's office. I saw determination and recklessness on your face a month after when I came home to you sitting at the dining table with our passports. You teared up and said we should have gone years ago. The house was empty for five months.
5 years ago I watched you sign the papers for a new occupant in our small apartment, Mollie. Beautiful Mollie. More often than not, you'd be asleep with her on the couch after I step out of the shower. Everything illuminated by the TV screen looked like a coloured blur at this time.
It's probably 9a.m. I can't read the clock on the wall anymore. I can't make out the pattern on our blankets either. But I can feel you and it's okay. I must have moved too much. You turned around, said good morning. Gently, pulled me under your chin and fell asleep again.
I don't need to travel anymore. I don't need to stay up hoping I can see stars again. The perfect image has always been there. Soaked in sunlight, inches from my face. The one last perfect image I want to see has always been you. | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's been about a year since the diagnosis. The doctors said it was incurable and it would rapidly progress. Luckily the doctor didn't know everything in this case. The initial estimate was that I'd be completely blind within a couple of weeks but, like I said...one year later and here we are.
After the diagnosis there were a lot of tears as to be expected, mostly from my mate...and myself...ok a lot from myself...shut up I can't help that I'm sensitive.
So about a week after it happened we decided to use the funds we'd saved up from working to go in search of what I called my "final sunrise" something that would stick with me for the rest of time. It started in London, we saw Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (a little too rich for my tastes but hey, to each their own), the Millennium Wheel was really cool, though being that high up gave me vertigo.
After London, we went north, to the land where my family hailed, Scotland! I got to see our family estate and got to show my mate around it. The air was so clear that day and the sky the purest blue. But still, that sunset escaped me. A month after the United Kingdom and we were off to Egypt for a pilgrimage to see the place where my and his faith were practiced in earnest millennia ago. By now my sight had begun to narrow but still, the Great Pyramids were as awe inspiring to me as they must have been to travelers all those era's ago.
Though we couldn't go everywhere we wanted, because of work, because of life, because of all those little moments. We still went on one last trip. My mate surprised me over dinner one evening in October, right around Halloween, he'd gotten two round trip tickets to Tokyo. Both of us being unapologetic fans of anime of all kinds, it was the magnum opus of our escapade around the world. Tokyo, Kyoto and the Great Shrine of Inari, and of course, the Hokkaido Fox Village. I got to pet one of those catdogs up close! Best. Day. EVER! I could just make out those derpy looks on their muzzles as they tried to steal my backpack.
So...did I ever find my sunset? I'm about to. This will probably be the last thing I see. I only have a few days left before it goes completely dark. This will most likely be my last time writing like this. So much for my career as a writer right? ah well. I'd go on a spiel about the best-laid plans and something deep like that as I'm often known to do, but as my best man just pointed out, I'm about to be late for my own wedding!
I don't know if anyone will ever read this diary thing besides me and Eric, but if you happen to stumble upon it take my advice: See the world as if it was the last time you'd be able to. Take in each color, each detail, absorb it and memorize it, you'll be glad you did later.
(So that's my first time ever posting here and the first time EVER publishing anything I've written online. I know, my grammar sucks.) | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I've been saving this compliment for months now. It's nothing too special. Not a Magnum Opus by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll have the desired effect. My vision is nearing its end. I'm not scared. To some, blindness may be terrifying; however, I had a plan. We've taken measures to assure a long and comfortable life when it does finally go. Besides, I have her.
I'm sitting up in bed, an activity I'd seen much of recently, and contemplating my master plan. A flurry of emotion washes over me. It usually does when my mind becomes occupied with her. I panic momentarily, fearing the worst, but manage to bring myself to peace.
I hear footsteps on the landing below. Soft and muffled from the thick green carpet that covers both the tight, clumsy staircase and the attic which had become our bedroom. A movement draws what's left of my vision to the stairs as she hops up the last step.
Draped in her favourite oversized T-shirt, which dropped nearly down to her knees, she flops down next to me. Her beauty never did lie in elegance. Rather, it was her childlike glee and jumpiness that pulled the corners of my lips into a smile. Her imperfections brought her to life, just as they stole my heart the moment I laid my eyes on her. The same eyes that had little life left in them.
I turn over to her and whisper her name. She returns my gaze. "Yes?" she replies. "I have something very important to tell you." I say "You have a very special talent. Something nobody but you can ever do. You alone can make me smile and laugh and feel butterflies in my stomach when moments before I'd been sobbing like a lost child."
I examine her face, awaiting her response. She smiles, slowly at first, then a full grin. Her cheeks rise and she begins to squint, ever so slightly, showing her laugh lines in the corner of her eyes. She shies away from compliments, so her chin tilts downwards. Some loose strands of hair tumble forward and cast small shadows over her face. She's trying to hide, but doesn't break eye contact with me. Her big, brown doe eyes are easy to get lost in.
This adorable smile is one I've come to love. It encapsulates all of her beauty and proves her humbleness. Not knowing just how beautiful she is makes her even more beautiful in a sense. I close my eyes and lean in for a kiss. Our lips touch gently. Then, calmly and carefully, I rest my head in the crook of her neck. We lay together in tranquility, listening to the rise and fall of our chests and the beating of our hearts.
Sleep comes for me. As I feel myself losing consciousness, I recall the image of her shy smile and feel my own lips curl into a grin. My breathing slows and the light fades - forevermore. | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | and as my vision starts to fade
i search tirelessly for the view
the one that i'll see for the rest of my days
the one that will still drive me through;
will it be a sunrise bright
set alight by stark contrast and hue
or maybe the forest on a summer morning
grass glittering with chilling dew;
i can fret as i may and believe what i like
for i never had thought that i knew
but from the second they told me i knew it quite well
i want to see always an image of you.
| Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | She took a step forward, her legs aching with years of experience. Her body was not what it once was, but she had used it well. The bruises, the scars, and even the wrinkles all had a story to tell. How she loved to tell them. Children listened intently, eyes open in awe to the sacrifices of the olden days. Those eyes, so much less scarred than hers.
Her eyes held a mysterious depth that absorbed attention with unsatiable hunger. No one could look at those eyes and come out unscathed. Not even her. The stories these told... And not a single word spoken. She saw empires rise and fall all over again everytime she stood in front of a mirror. She saw images of the Sunedeith War and the Seventh Revolution. She saw the dying embers of what once was her city. She still kept one small black stone from her home, stolen from the garden path of her grandmothers' house. A memento of times past and a reminder of continued survival. Her grandmother had survived the Red Eclipse. Her house was one of the few structures that survived the second fall of Bravor. Not that it mattered. Her grandmother had long ago left this realm. As for her, she never returned to that house. It was old and a painful reminder of war. Much like herself, it had seen too much.
People respected her in a way they would respect a God. They would see in her hope, strength, and guidance. They did not see humanity. She was their victories and failures. She was her ship and her soldiers. Even to the weapons they carried. She was reminder of war. The feared her. Not that she cared about any of it. She had fulfilled her role and now she wanted nothing more than to live as simply Selena.
And to the many children sitting in front of her, she was Selena, the storyteller. Children where the only ones who saw her as just another human. An old lady with bags of treats and stories. Stories their parents would never dare tell them. But oh did they need to know. Knowledge as such was hard to come by. Generations to come would find themselved lacking. And this was dangerous, she knew as much. These stories could not die with her.
She also knew, she had little time. The shakes had started. Her vision blurred day by day. Her field of vision growing small and pitiful. She had seen so much already, feeling she had seen too much of the world for it to matter. But she was wrong.
There was one more thing.
Her mother, as strong of a woman and fighter as she was, was also an lover. As a lover, she was an artist. It led to much suffering but her mother loved life, as dark as it was. She simply painted in darker colours. She always hid a little bit of brightness that you could only catch if you looked for it in the right light. However, it had all been lost in the Seventh Revolution. At least, that is what she believed, until Caleb gave her a box.
Caleb was an orphan of barely 13 years old. Smart as a whip, tough as the rock in her pocket. Like her mother, he was an artist too. He appreciated life the way younglings do, naive and resilient with a mind full of wonder. So much curiosity hidden in the depth of their mind, waiting to come out at a moments notice. When he was found in Aria 72, he held his one material posession close to his chest. At mere 4 years old he had survived the end of the world as he knew it only clutching a box full of dried paints and broken brushes. A strange posession for a boy so young found in the remnants of a T-2378z. But he kept the box close, insisting on becoming the first artist of the New World. His father, a surgeon, had once told him that a world without art was only a skeleton of civilization.
Caleb took his mission with pride, discovering colours even in the solid grey walls of the New Aria settlement. He painted with a passion and precision his father would proud of. Selena had never once seen his work. Caleb always painted in secret.
With expecting eyes and a whispered thank you, he handed her a simple brown box. Inside, a treasure no one but Caleb had seen. A treasure so precious, it would be first shared between them. She knew she wouldn't be able to appreciate every detail, not that it mattered. She opened the box and her world exploded in colour. Even in the blurrines of her sight she would recognise her home anywhere. Selena clutched the rock in her posession close to her chest and smiled, looking up to Caleb. Such a beautiful boy, he reminded her so much of her father. Caleb had given her the most beautiful gift. He had given Selena her home. So she gave him one of his own. As Caleb held the rock in his hand, she looked at his face and the world around her disappeared. But she was not alone. Caleb held her hand and hugged her. No, she was not alone. She had a new family now.
Sorry for formatting or mistakes. English is not my first language and I used my phone to type. Feedback welcome. Enjoy! | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | “There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”
I always hated that quote. I preferred “There’s always a silver lining.” Since it wasn’t so literal for me.
Being blind kind of sucked.
Right, where was I? Oh yes, hating stuff.
I hated that ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ quote. It was because of my condition where my vision slowly shrank, I don’t remember the technical term but most folks call it ‘Tunnel Vision’.
Really hate that.
So I figure I should go out with one last hurrah!
Most folks who are about to be married usually go out to a strip club.
People who are about to die do whatever the hell they want.
I was going to go blind so I figured I’d go find the best looking thing out there and engrave it into my brain that I’d never forget. Problem is, I had no idea what I was looking for.
I hated that feeling of being lost.
But I had money and I had plenty of time so I travelled the world.
Mountains looked nice enough but I was too cold to appreciate them.
Monuments were impressive but they never really lived up to the hype.
Hell I’ve thrown money at dozens of prostitutes just to see a bunch of girls all over me.
My wife really hated that.
Didn’t surprise me that she left.
Honestly it wasn’t even the prostitutes that got her. It was the fact that I spent years away from her looking for the last perfect image.
Well, I’m an idiot. I know that now. I should’ve stayed with her, been there with her. She was that perfect image, the one thing engraved into my head that I’d never forget.
I don’t even care if I’m blind anymore. I’d give up all my senses just to be with her, hell I’d even give up seeing her if I had that chance.
But now it was too late.
I have Tunnel Vision.
And I hate it.
| Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | As the dark, cold reminder of your impending doom looms ever heavy upon your ravaged body and soul and mind, you think of one thing: her. Soon you shall never see, hear, nor touch your beloved and a crushing anxiety squelched all hope of reprieve.
The code blue is called. The reaper stands in the doorway to ever take you away from your life, your love. And then, with but the last gasp of of conscious thought, she brushes death himself aside. As you lie in your final moments of life your world is taken in by azure so beautiful Poseidon would be envious. The last words spoken in unison before you make your inevitable departure ring thus: I love you.
Edit: a repeating clause. This is why you proofread! | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Human cried again today.
We went on an adventure earlier, or at least I thought it would be. We ended up at The Cold Place, and boy do I hate it there. I can't help it, but when I'm there I can't stop shivering. I don't know if it's because its cold, or because I know what's coming.
Human put me on the cold table and Person with Cold Hands came into the room, she always smells like clean. She touched me all over, and I shivered even more. She's really nice, but I don't think I like her. I was hoping that she wouldn't poke me again, but she did. It doesn't really hurt, but it always catches me off guard - and I must always be on guard, to protect Human!
They removed me from the cold table and Human had a long discussion with Person With Cold Hands. They both looked a little worried. I just waited by the door because I couldn't wait to get out of there. Once we got back in the Go Faster, Human sat me down in the seat next to him and looked at me with sad eyes, at least from what I could tell.
What's wrong Human?
He grabbed my head and held my eyes open, taking turns with each one. It was almost like he was looking for something. He just stared at my eyes and sighed. I heard his sniffles.
What is he looking for? Since I was a small, my sight has been slowly been going black so there isn't much to look for in there. Maybe he lost something and thought he might find it in my eyes? Silly Human.
Whatever it is, I can find it. I know I can.
After a long nap, Human started getting adventure stuff together! I was so excited! I hoped it was The Fun Place, I make friends there all the time. Although, I've been ramming into things and other woofs lately - so that might be tough.
To my surprise, we ended up at a huge place with many tall woods. It seemed very familiar. We walked together for a very long time, it was so much fun. I hopped in and out the long tickles from the ground, I swam in the warm wet stuff, and we even played get the round thing in the open field. I was very happy, and so was Human.
As the Big Bright Round Thing started to leave, I couldn't catch my much smaller one that well. I just couldn't see it. That's when Human called me over and we started walking again, but this time we went a little faster. He had to help me on the way, but we made it to a very high place,
We stopped at a top of a ledge. Human sat down in the short tickles from the ground and told me to lay down next to him, which I did - but only if he gave me a belly rub. After an amazing tummy pat, he told me took up. I remember this place now.
Human took me here when I was a small. Other Human met up with us that day, and he brought his Woof with him too - he was a big. That was the first time I sniffed them. Big Woof was very nice and taught me many things. Other Human was also very nice and loving - he gave the best belly rubs.
The four of us had treats and stared at the Big Bright Round Thing being thrown out of the sky. It was very warm and pretty. I told Big Woof that I want to catch it one day, and he said that he'd beat me to it.
Human and Other Human loved each other very much, Big Woof and I could tell. After that day, the four of us were inseparable - our very own pack.
One day, Human started crying and couldn’t stop. Other Human and Big Woof didn't come home that day. I never saw their Go Faster again either. Human said it was totaled, whatever that meant. I really miss them.
Human and I sat in the same spots we were sitting in that day. As the Big Bright Round Thing gets further away, it somehow creates the exact same image we saw with Other Human and Big Woof. I could barely see it, but I knew it was there.
Human started crying again and held me closer. He kept repeating, "One last time, baby, just one more time." as he stroked my ears. Eventually, everything went black.
It's okay Human, I can smell them.
I swear I can smell them.
| Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Katie sighed, blowing hair out of her eyes.
"It's 4:30 AM, Max. The flight's at 6. Do we really need to go now?"
"Yes," I explained, "if I miss this flight and spend my last day of sight in Jacksonville, I'm never gonna let myself forget it."
She smiled.
"Well, it's good to see you at least happy to go to new places."
We got onto the plane with me only falling over a couple times. Katie had gotten pretty good at knowing when I'd trip, and catching me when I did. Having a best friend as good as her never failed to make me smile, even in the early days of the disease when I ate pavement several times a day. Hand always out to help me up, she was one of the few friends I had who'd stuck with me through this hell. She and I had travelled across the globe, looking at various monuments and religious shrines, hoping we'd find something I'd be content to watch as my vision disappeared forever.
Setting up camp in California was easy. I'd pitched enough tents and unrolled enough sleeping bags as a kid that I could do it with my eyes closed. The problem wasn't that. The problem was that I still felt unsatisfied- I didn't feel ready to give up my vision yet, I didn't feel like I'd seen The Perfect Sight. Katie came up on my left. She studied my face for a brief moment.
"Still not it, huh?"
We sat, leaning against a massive tree.
"I just... all this shit we've seen is so cool, y'know? I love it, and I love seeing it with my best friend in the world. It's just that it doesn't *mean* anything to me. I don't have any memories of those wonderful places. I don't feel a connection to them."
"I get that. I'm sorry, Max. I tried to find places for you, places you would like. I guess I just didn't try hard enough..."
Her voice trailed off as she looked down.
"No! No. Katie, you did way more than you had to, way more than I could've ever asked of you. You've been absolutely perfect."
With those last words, the hints of a smile took hold in her face, and something clicked in my brain.
Maybe it was seeing, through permanent tunnel-vision, the way the sun caught her eyes just right and glinted off her golden-brown hair. Maybe it was the way she squeezed my hand when I slipped it into hers. Maybe it was just realizing that the sight I had been looking for had been traveling alongside me for months, and that I was deeply, deeply in love with her.
Whatever it was, I was finally satisfied as the gray closed over her beautiful face, marking the last thing I ever saw. | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I know I'm too late to get any traction here, but I had to speak up: this is my actual situation.
I have a rare genetic disorder called *retinitis pigmentosa*. It starts with night blindness and compromised peripheral vision. Then comes tunnel vision. Loss of color. Then blindness.
Right now, I'm in the night blindness stage with slipping periphery. I'm spending a hefty chunk of 2017 traveling all over the world to see famous sites, or less famous things that I have always wanted to take in. Examples include Scottish moors, ice caves, and the least light-polluted spots on the planet. Suggestions are welcome!
It's interesting to read your entries! | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I get a late start to the day. I pull myself from my sanctuary that most would call a bed and stumble into the bathroom.
"2 Prozac to call down, 2 Adderall if it's too much." The Doctor Said.
The orange pill bottles remained unopened in the medicine cabinet.
I look into the mirror to self-diagnose.
A black cloud surrounds my figure like a gray-scale portrait.
After making myself presentable, I decide to take what could be my last walk with viable sight.
As I walk down the concrete path, I observe a woman smoking a cigarette on her apartment building's stoop. She looks disgusted and spits loudly onto the pavement as we make eye contact. An appalling sight.
The waste bins look neglected. Trash from the nearby convenience stores compliment what little vegetation borders the walkway.
I start to wonder if I'm going to miss seeing this neighborhood.
I finally arrive at the park and take a seat on a creaky wooden bench. The peeling red paint reminds me of times in my life I ended up here. Morning coffee, late drunken nights, and phone calls I wish to never remember. It all comes back to here.
As I'm lost in thought, a woman sits next to me. An uncontrollable smile crosses my face as I see her. She smiles back.
"Lovely morning we're having” I announced.
"Not in the slightest" She laughed.
"Can I interest you in a coffee?" I asked.
"I think I have the time"
We both walk to the café’ nearby and we passionately discuss a short story in the New Yorker she held by her side.
The black cloud starts to fade to white and I feel alive again.
| Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | This is just my actual life. It's called retinitis pigmentosa. I'm going to Iceland to look at stuff in April. I know this is violating the rules, or whatever, but I just can't not say something. Also nonfiction is subjective enough that some would argue there is no nonfiction, that all writing is interpretation, and that all that matters is whether the story is well written. So let's just admit nonfiction is still writing, and not take this down. Please.
The truth is the things I want to see most are not a sweeping landscape despite my current mission to go to Iceland and look at stuff.. The things I want to see the most are simple and mundane. I want to see my husband's face as he ages, my children's as they grow. I want to see as much of my family as I can before I can't anymore.
It isn't even that I will want to see them, it is that I want them to be seen. There is this incredible emotional need to see and be seen. I don't want them to ever feel like I don't see them.
It is silly to think that I need to physically see them in order to metaphorically see them... but in a weird way we do need that physicality, that immediacy, that connection.
One day I will wander the gallery of my mind, years after I can no longer see, and I will look at the faces of my family. The image will be faded and blurred, pieced together from small fractions of their faces that I glimpsed at in the last year's when my vision was a small pin prick of clarity in a swirl of blurred colors and shapes.
The last image is a collage hung in my heart and revisited impulsively, driven by a nagging physical need to SEE them, to know them as they are, the image shifting, morphing, fracturing and fraying...
And when I let that image go, when I stop feeling that last image to be a true image of them, stop needing it to be so, that moment will be the first moment when I will be truly blind, a true citizen of the sightless world. I will be a new self in a new world.
The last image will be an idea, a memory of a previous life, a previous me. | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | *"When I consider how my light is spent...."*
I remember with absolute clarity the day they told me. Miltonian Optic Neuritis - a rare (and seemingly impossible) condition where the optic nerve begins to simply disintegrate. Unlike many disorders of the eye this one does not slowly diminish your vision, gradually darkening the world until nothing remains. They warned me it would be no gradual thing - indeed it probably would've gone unnoticed except for an especially in-depth routine checkup. Instead one day the optic nerve would be severed and I would be blind.
"Ten years and five months..." the doctor said "...give or take a couple weeks."
I noted that the diagnosis was oddly specific. He shrugged and said something about the power of diagnostic medicine. He also noted another odd side effect of the condition - whatever it was that was killing the nerve endings in my eyes was also going to stimulate the vision centres of my brain. My memory had always been good, but the doctor explained that as the disease progressed I would be able to remember things I had seen with greater and greater clarity until at last my vision would vanish and whatever I saw would be etched on my mind forever.
I went home. Delivered the news to my wife and my daughter. She was young then - only five years old - and didn't really understand why Mommy and Daddy were crying. After a moment's recollection I came to agree with her. Why was I crying? I had ten years left. Ten years of things I could see. Things I would be able to recall with absolute clarity once the darkness claimed me.
I realised quickly that wasting my time working was not the answer. Yes, the salary was nice, but I did not want my eternal night to be filled with inane lines of code. Instead, I decided, I would travel. See the world and commit the greatest and most beautiful things I could imagine to my mind.
I travelled to Egypt and see the Pyramids. To Jerusalem to see the land that gave birth to three religions. I travelled to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower and the Seine. I waited in line to see the Mona Lisa. I travelled to Moscow to see St. Basil's. To India to see the Ganges. To China to see the Great Wall. To Nepal to see Everest.
I travelled light and cheap. I did not have enough money to spend my day in luxury, but it was worth it. I would gather these things to me and hold them in my mind for as long as I lived. Of course my wife could not come with me (save to Paris, which she had always dreamed of) - we had a daughter to support. One of us had to work. And she understood my predicament. My daughter could not travel either - schooling was important and it took up most of the year. Nor was she interested in sitting with Daddy staring at things.
I travelled to Australia to see Uluru. To Zimbabwe to see Victoria Falls. I even managed to travel to Iraq to see the ancient city of Baghdad.
But seeing these things did not bring me fulfilment. They did not bring me contentment. They were the great works of Man and Nature, but what were they to me. Images that would follow me for the rest of my life, but I felt no connection with them. They held nothing for me.
I tried to find more meaningful things to burn into my mind. The homelands of my ancestors in England, Ireland, Scotland and France. The gravestones of family members I would never again meet and those I had never met. They were not what I was looking for either. Perhaps it was their way of life that I was missing. I signed on a sailing ship and sailed the same sea my Grandfather had. I spent a season working on a farm.
My light was spent when I woke up yesterday morning. Everything was utter dark. There was no light, no shadow, nothing but the vast inky blackness of my new prison. In my wisdom I had made emergency plans everywhere I went. Getting home from Barcelona wasn't easy, but it was doable.
My daughter, now old enough to drive, picked me up at the airport. "Welcome home Daddy..." she said, in the sing-song voice she used to greet me with when she was five "...did you see anything beautiful?"
For a moment I tried to focus my mind on her face. On what she had looked like. But it was blurry. Our of focus. I had been away so long and back so irregularly. And she was changing so much.
I started to cry.
"What's wrong Daddy?" she asked, her voice now sounding concerned. But I knew she wouldn't understand. I had been a fool and wasted all those years, all my light, chasing that which was waiting for me at home all this time. | Long accused as narrow-minded,
And cursed to be narrow-blinded,
So occurred to my doctor, a
Treatment, which he was reminded.
Here, your nerves are bent and grinded,
Onward 'til you are in time dead.
Pleasant sleep soon arriving, as
Each surgeon approached a white bed. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | David sat next to me on the couch laughing as he tried again to grab my phone. We tussled, he pressed his face to mine - touching foreheads as he kissed me gently on the lips.
"Why won't you let me see them? You're being ridiculous." I could see something - his eye?
No. All I saw was haze. The opthalmologists diagnosed me with macular degeneration 2 years ago. That's the end of the road for a surgeon. After a slew of second opinions I took early retirement and convinced David to take a sabbatical. We'd been together 20 years - since I first saw him across on the quad in our first month of medical school. We looked at each other and we just knew we'd found a kindred spirit.
Our careers engulfed our 20s and 30s and by our 40s we'd just settled into our stride. Different hospitals, different fields, no kids, no pets - just each other. It was heaven.
In the two years since "D-day" we had gone just about everywhere. The suitcase in the corner of the sitting room still had some dirt from the rice field in Vietnam where David thought it would be hilarious to try his hand at creating the world's first rice zen garden. We'd got to Turkey and Tibet, the Gold coast and Phuket and even got in two wild life safaris in Botswana. When my eye sight got worse we stuck to the more touristy things we'd always wanted to do but never got round to - the bold, brash Pompedou centre in Paris, the bright colours of the Princess Reine Sofia museum in Madrid and the pink-purple splendour of the Japanese cherry festival. We just managed to get to the tulip festival in Amsterdam and squeeze in Vietnam (David wanted to try a cookery course) before the eyes gave up for good.
Every now and then I can focus but it's getting harder. As David and I lay together on the couch he pulled away and tried again to grab my phone.
"I want to see it! This "perfect image" that you took us on this International roadtrip to capture. I bet it was Mexico - you've always had such a fascination with that Day of the Dead and those skulls! Or the Taj Mahal - you've always liked the romance of that mausoleum to love. Or maybe something really cheesy like the pebbles on Brighton beach when you insisted on making an artistic sculpture to immortalise our luuuuuurrrve!"
I grinned and handed him the phone. A David-shape pounced on it and I concentrated as hard as I could as his face gradually came into focus. I could see him, his green eyes staring at the screen intently as he swiped through my prized photos on my battered iPhone. His face looked more and more puzzled as he looked at what I knew was there - photo after photo of David. David on the beach looking pensive. David in Milan looking harried. David on the sofa napping with arms and legs gloriously akimbo.
"You've got to be kidding me - where is this image we went on such a wild goose chase for?"
I smiled as I drew him close and said, "You have been my soulmate in this world and the next. I only started living the day you came into my life. You are the first person I want to see when I get up in the morning and the last person I want to see when I get into bed. The sabbatical was just so I could take you to all the places you've nagged me about but that we never took the time to go to. The only image I want to remember - is you....."
I held his face as long as I could as our tears ran. He leant in to kiss me and his face blurred and became haze. This was the last image I would see.
It was perfection. | There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | We were used to sitting in doctor's offices by now. I had become numb to hearing "it didn't work" and "don't worry, we'll keep trying - you'll conceive next time." But this time was different - I knew I had a short amount of time before my vision would go, and my dream was to see the face of my child, our child, before it was dark forever. This was our second time trying IVF, and I had a confidence that I hadn't felt before - this was the time. The doctor walked in as I clenched my husband's hand.
"You did it."
We've spent all of our money on radiation for ovarian cancer and attempting to get pregnant that we had nothing left. We had no money for a crib, so my husband built one. Occasionally throughout the day my sight would go black and I would wonder if this was it, but a little kick from my womb would snap me back. During ultrasounds I would carefully study each crease on the child's face, just in case my sight would give out before they were born. We had the option of learning the sex, but I refused - I wanted to be able to see it for myself.
Six months into the pregnancy I began to lose my color vision. Everything was duller, but I was still able to see my belly grow larger each week. While cleaning the kitchen one evening, I felt a warm liquid stream down my leg. Assuming it was urine, as incontinence was common during this pregnancy, I grabbed a dish towel and waddled to the bathroom. While my color perception was off, I noticed a reddish hue on the cloth and began to scream.
I couldn't lose this baby. I needed to see them.
In the ER the fluorescent lights seemed brighter than usual but the nurses' faces were blurry. I was hooked up to an ultrasound and my world stood still as we waited for a heartbeat. For the first time since getting pregnant, I turned away from the screen and closed my eyes.
"She's fine. She's going to be okay, you're going to be okay."
She? I opened my eyes and there was darkness. A hue of grey was centered in my vision, but nothing more. I whipped my head towards my husband, but there was nothing. Just a slate-shaded cave. Frantically, I looked toward the ultrasound screen and the doctor, but still, nothing. It was gone.
Three months went by and the grey faded into black. I was angry at how I could no longer help around the house or work. "You're the home for our baby, sweetheart, and that's all we need," my husband would say. The baby I would never see.
I delivered Moseley in August. As the doctor placed her in my arms, I ran my hand over her small face. I felt her nose, her puffy cheeks, and a little patch of hair on her head. "It's brown, like her mom's," the delivery nurse told me.
I closed my eyes and smelled the top of her head. Everything lingered longer in my nose after I lost my sight. I opened my eyes and saw her face. No gray. No black. But her. Only her. I saw nothing else in the room, not my husband, the doctors, the nurses, the fetal monitor, nothing.
Behind me, I heard a voice whisper as my vision went dark again for the final time.
"You did it." | There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's probably 7a.m. The bedroom ceiling is glowing faintly with curtain filtered sunlight. I miss watching the dust motes dance. But it's okay.
It's been 20 years since we sat with two mugs of coffee between us. I should have stolen more glances of you back then. But it's okay.
It's been 15 years since we finally got our own place and more than two mugs in the apartment. It was for just in case we have dinner guests. We hardly did. But it's okay.
It's been 10 years since we heard the doctor read out the result of my failing eyesight. We argued about traveling and you cried again. But it's okay.
It's been five years since we found Mollie, my guide dog, your second snuggle buddy. I'm starting to feel my way around our place a little more. But it's okay.
It's probably 8a.m. It's a weekend so you won't be up yet. Recently, you keep asking me what else I want to see. I've seen everything I want to see.
20 years ago. You were blushing so much. Mumbling and talking with your hands about your favourite bands because I asked. I watched you drink your hot matcha tea while I took smaller sips of my mocha on the second floor of the coffee shop.
15 years ago I saw your eyes stare at every inch of the walls, ceiling, floor before lying down and breathing out a small "it's perfect". We were giggly and bought too much kitchenware for just two people. I'll never tire of watching you cook in the small but cosy kitchen.
10 years ago I watched your hand tighten around mine at the doctor's office. I saw determination and recklessness on your face a month after when I came home to you sitting at the dining table with our passports. You teared up and said we should have gone years ago. The house was empty for five months.
5 years ago I watched you sign the papers for a new occupant in our small apartment, Mollie. Beautiful Mollie. More often than not, you'd be asleep with her on the couch after I step out of the shower. Everything illuminated by the TV screen looked like a coloured blur at this time.
It's probably 9a.m. I can't read the clock on the wall anymore. I can't make out the pattern on our blankets either. But I can feel you and it's okay. I must have moved too much. You turned around, said good morning. Gently, pulled me under your chin and fell asleep again.
I don't need to travel anymore. I don't need to stay up hoping I can see stars again. The perfect image has always been there. Soaked in sunlight, inches from my face. The one last perfect image I want to see has always been you. | There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's been about a year since the diagnosis. The doctors said it was incurable and it would rapidly progress. Luckily the doctor didn't know everything in this case. The initial estimate was that I'd be completely blind within a couple of weeks but, like I said...one year later and here we are.
After the diagnosis there were a lot of tears as to be expected, mostly from my mate...and myself...ok a lot from myself...shut up I can't help that I'm sensitive.
So about a week after it happened we decided to use the funds we'd saved up from working to go in search of what I called my "final sunrise" something that would stick with me for the rest of time. It started in London, we saw Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (a little too rich for my tastes but hey, to each their own), the Millennium Wheel was really cool, though being that high up gave me vertigo.
After London, we went north, to the land where my family hailed, Scotland! I got to see our family estate and got to show my mate around it. The air was so clear that day and the sky the purest blue. But still, that sunset escaped me. A month after the United Kingdom and we were off to Egypt for a pilgrimage to see the place where my and his faith were practiced in earnest millennia ago. By now my sight had begun to narrow but still, the Great Pyramids were as awe inspiring to me as they must have been to travelers all those era's ago.
Though we couldn't go everywhere we wanted, because of work, because of life, because of all those little moments. We still went on one last trip. My mate surprised me over dinner one evening in October, right around Halloween, he'd gotten two round trip tickets to Tokyo. Both of us being unapologetic fans of anime of all kinds, it was the magnum opus of our escapade around the world. Tokyo, Kyoto and the Great Shrine of Inari, and of course, the Hokkaido Fox Village. I got to pet one of those catdogs up close! Best. Day. EVER! I could just make out those derpy looks on their muzzles as they tried to steal my backpack.
So...did I ever find my sunset? I'm about to. This will probably be the last thing I see. I only have a few days left before it goes completely dark. This will most likely be my last time writing like this. So much for my career as a writer right? ah well. I'd go on a spiel about the best-laid plans and something deep like that as I'm often known to do, but as my best man just pointed out, I'm about to be late for my own wedding!
I don't know if anyone will ever read this diary thing besides me and Eric, but if you happen to stumble upon it take my advice: See the world as if it was the last time you'd be able to. Take in each color, each detail, absorb it and memorize it, you'll be glad you did later.
(So that's my first time ever posting here and the first time EVER publishing anything I've written online. I know, my grammar sucks.) | There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I've been saving this compliment for months now. It's nothing too special. Not a Magnum Opus by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll have the desired effect. My vision is nearing its end. I'm not scared. To some, blindness may be terrifying; however, I had a plan. We've taken measures to assure a long and comfortable life when it does finally go. Besides, I have her.
I'm sitting up in bed, an activity I'd seen much of recently, and contemplating my master plan. A flurry of emotion washes over me. It usually does when my mind becomes occupied with her. I panic momentarily, fearing the worst, but manage to bring myself to peace.
I hear footsteps on the landing below. Soft and muffled from the thick green carpet that covers both the tight, clumsy staircase and the attic which had become our bedroom. A movement draws what's left of my vision to the stairs as she hops up the last step.
Draped in her favourite oversized T-shirt, which dropped nearly down to her knees, she flops down next to me. Her beauty never did lie in elegance. Rather, it was her childlike glee and jumpiness that pulled the corners of my lips into a smile. Her imperfections brought her to life, just as they stole my heart the moment I laid my eyes on her. The same eyes that had little life left in them.
I turn over to her and whisper her name. She returns my gaze. "Yes?" she replies. "I have something very important to tell you." I say "You have a very special talent. Something nobody but you can ever do. You alone can make me smile and laugh and feel butterflies in my stomach when moments before I'd been sobbing like a lost child."
I examine her face, awaiting her response. She smiles, slowly at first, then a full grin. Her cheeks rise and she begins to squint, ever so slightly, showing her laugh lines in the corner of her eyes. She shies away from compliments, so her chin tilts downwards. Some loose strands of hair tumble forward and cast small shadows over her face. She's trying to hide, but doesn't break eye contact with me. Her big, brown doe eyes are easy to get lost in.
This adorable smile is one I've come to love. It encapsulates all of her beauty and proves her humbleness. Not knowing just how beautiful she is makes her even more beautiful in a sense. I close my eyes and lean in for a kiss. Our lips touch gently. Then, calmly and carefully, I rest my head in the crook of her neck. We lay together in tranquility, listening to the rise and fall of our chests and the beating of our hearts.
Sleep comes for me. As I feel myself losing consciousness, I recall the image of her shy smile and feel my own lips curl into a grin. My breathing slows and the light fades - forevermore. | There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | and as my vision starts to fade
i search tirelessly for the view
the one that i'll see for the rest of my days
the one that will still drive me through;
will it be a sunrise bright
set alight by stark contrast and hue
or maybe the forest on a summer morning
grass glittering with chilling dew;
i can fret as i may and believe what i like
for i never had thought that i knew
but from the second they told me i knew it quite well
i want to see always an image of you.
| There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | She took a step forward, her legs aching with years of experience. Her body was not what it once was, but she had used it well. The bruises, the scars, and even the wrinkles all had a story to tell. How she loved to tell them. Children listened intently, eyes open in awe to the sacrifices of the olden days. Those eyes, so much less scarred than hers.
Her eyes held a mysterious depth that absorbed attention with unsatiable hunger. No one could look at those eyes and come out unscathed. Not even her. The stories these told... And not a single word spoken. She saw empires rise and fall all over again everytime she stood in front of a mirror. She saw images of the Sunedeith War and the Seventh Revolution. She saw the dying embers of what once was her city. She still kept one small black stone from her home, stolen from the garden path of her grandmothers' house. A memento of times past and a reminder of continued survival. Her grandmother had survived the Red Eclipse. Her house was one of the few structures that survived the second fall of Bravor. Not that it mattered. Her grandmother had long ago left this realm. As for her, she never returned to that house. It was old and a painful reminder of war. Much like herself, it had seen too much.
People respected her in a way they would respect a God. They would see in her hope, strength, and guidance. They did not see humanity. She was their victories and failures. She was her ship and her soldiers. Even to the weapons they carried. She was reminder of war. The feared her. Not that she cared about any of it. She had fulfilled her role and now she wanted nothing more than to live as simply Selena.
And to the many children sitting in front of her, she was Selena, the storyteller. Children where the only ones who saw her as just another human. An old lady with bags of treats and stories. Stories their parents would never dare tell them. But oh did they need to know. Knowledge as such was hard to come by. Generations to come would find themselved lacking. And this was dangerous, she knew as much. These stories could not die with her.
She also knew, she had little time. The shakes had started. Her vision blurred day by day. Her field of vision growing small and pitiful. She had seen so much already, feeling she had seen too much of the world for it to matter. But she was wrong.
There was one more thing.
Her mother, as strong of a woman and fighter as she was, was also an lover. As a lover, she was an artist. It led to much suffering but her mother loved life, as dark as it was. She simply painted in darker colours. She always hid a little bit of brightness that you could only catch if you looked for it in the right light. However, it had all been lost in the Seventh Revolution. At least, that is what she believed, until Caleb gave her a box.
Caleb was an orphan of barely 13 years old. Smart as a whip, tough as the rock in her pocket. Like her mother, he was an artist too. He appreciated life the way younglings do, naive and resilient with a mind full of wonder. So much curiosity hidden in the depth of their mind, waiting to come out at a moments notice. When he was found in Aria 72, he held his one material posession close to his chest. At mere 4 years old he had survived the end of the world as he knew it only clutching a box full of dried paints and broken brushes. A strange posession for a boy so young found in the remnants of a T-2378z. But he kept the box close, insisting on becoming the first artist of the New World. His father, a surgeon, had once told him that a world without art was only a skeleton of civilization.
Caleb took his mission with pride, discovering colours even in the solid grey walls of the New Aria settlement. He painted with a passion and precision his father would proud of. Selena had never once seen his work. Caleb always painted in secret.
With expecting eyes and a whispered thank you, he handed her a simple brown box. Inside, a treasure no one but Caleb had seen. A treasure so precious, it would be first shared between them. She knew she wouldn't be able to appreciate every detail, not that it mattered. She opened the box and her world exploded in colour. Even in the blurrines of her sight she would recognise her home anywhere. Selena clutched the rock in her posession close to her chest and smiled, looking up to Caleb. Such a beautiful boy, he reminded her so much of her father. Caleb had given her the most beautiful gift. He had given Selena her home. So she gave him one of his own. As Caleb held the rock in his hand, she looked at his face and the world around her disappeared. But she was not alone. Caleb held her hand and hugged her. No, she was not alone. She had a new family now.
Sorry for formatting or mistakes. English is not my first language and I used my phone to type. Feedback welcome. Enjoy! | There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | “There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”
I always hated that quote. I preferred “There’s always a silver lining.” Since it wasn’t so literal for me.
Being blind kind of sucked.
Right, where was I? Oh yes, hating stuff.
I hated that ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ quote. It was because of my condition where my vision slowly shrank, I don’t remember the technical term but most folks call it ‘Tunnel Vision’.
Really hate that.
So I figure I should go out with one last hurrah!
Most folks who are about to be married usually go out to a strip club.
People who are about to die do whatever the hell they want.
I was going to go blind so I figured I’d go find the best looking thing out there and engrave it into my brain that I’d never forget. Problem is, I had no idea what I was looking for.
I hated that feeling of being lost.
But I had money and I had plenty of time so I travelled the world.
Mountains looked nice enough but I was too cold to appreciate them.
Monuments were impressive but they never really lived up to the hype.
Hell I’ve thrown money at dozens of prostitutes just to see a bunch of girls all over me.
My wife really hated that.
Didn’t surprise me that she left.
Honestly it wasn’t even the prostitutes that got her. It was the fact that I spent years away from her looking for the last perfect image.
Well, I’m an idiot. I know that now. I should’ve stayed with her, been there with her. She was that perfect image, the one thing engraved into my head that I’d never forget.
I don’t even care if I’m blind anymore. I’d give up all my senses just to be with her, hell I’d even give up seeing her if I had that chance.
But now it was too late.
I have Tunnel Vision.
And I hate it.
| There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Human cried again today.
We went on an adventure earlier, or at least I thought it would be. We ended up at The Cold Place, and boy do I hate it there. I can't help it, but when I'm there I can't stop shivering. I don't know if it's because its cold, or because I know what's coming.
Human put me on the cold table and Person with Cold Hands came into the room, she always smells like clean. She touched me all over, and I shivered even more. She's really nice, but I don't think I like her. I was hoping that she wouldn't poke me again, but she did. It doesn't really hurt, but it always catches me off guard - and I must always be on guard, to protect Human!
They removed me from the cold table and Human had a long discussion with Person With Cold Hands. They both looked a little worried. I just waited by the door because I couldn't wait to get out of there. Once we got back in the Go Faster, Human sat me down in the seat next to him and looked at me with sad eyes, at least from what I could tell.
What's wrong Human?
He grabbed my head and held my eyes open, taking turns with each one. It was almost like he was looking for something. He just stared at my eyes and sighed. I heard his sniffles.
What is he looking for? Since I was a small, my sight has been slowly been going black so there isn't much to look for in there. Maybe he lost something and thought he might find it in my eyes? Silly Human.
Whatever it is, I can find it. I know I can.
After a long nap, Human started getting adventure stuff together! I was so excited! I hoped it was The Fun Place, I make friends there all the time. Although, I've been ramming into things and other woofs lately - so that might be tough.
To my surprise, we ended up at a huge place with many tall woods. It seemed very familiar. We walked together for a very long time, it was so much fun. I hopped in and out the long tickles from the ground, I swam in the warm wet stuff, and we even played get the round thing in the open field. I was very happy, and so was Human.
As the Big Bright Round Thing started to leave, I couldn't catch my much smaller one that well. I just couldn't see it. That's when Human called me over and we started walking again, but this time we went a little faster. He had to help me on the way, but we made it to a very high place,
We stopped at a top of a ledge. Human sat down in the short tickles from the ground and told me to lay down next to him, which I did - but only if he gave me a belly rub. After an amazing tummy pat, he told me took up. I remember this place now.
Human took me here when I was a small. Other Human met up with us that day, and he brought his Woof with him too - he was a big. That was the first time I sniffed them. Big Woof was very nice and taught me many things. Other Human was also very nice and loving - he gave the best belly rubs.
The four of us had treats and stared at the Big Bright Round Thing being thrown out of the sky. It was very warm and pretty. I told Big Woof that I want to catch it one day, and he said that he'd beat me to it.
Human and Other Human loved each other very much, Big Woof and I could tell. After that day, the four of us were inseparable - our very own pack.
One day, Human started crying and couldn’t stop. Other Human and Big Woof didn't come home that day. I never saw their Go Faster again either. Human said it was totaled, whatever that meant. I really miss them.
Human and I sat in the same spots we were sitting in that day. As the Big Bright Round Thing gets further away, it somehow creates the exact same image we saw with Other Human and Big Woof. I could barely see it, but I knew it was there.
Human started crying again and held me closer. He kept repeating, "One last time, baby, just one more time." as he stroked my ears. Eventually, everything went black.
It's okay Human, I can smell them.
I swear I can smell them.
| There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Katie sighed, blowing hair out of her eyes.
"It's 4:30 AM, Max. The flight's at 6. Do we really need to go now?"
"Yes," I explained, "if I miss this flight and spend my last day of sight in Jacksonville, I'm never gonna let myself forget it."
She smiled.
"Well, it's good to see you at least happy to go to new places."
We got onto the plane with me only falling over a couple times. Katie had gotten pretty good at knowing when I'd trip, and catching me when I did. Having a best friend as good as her never failed to make me smile, even in the early days of the disease when I ate pavement several times a day. Hand always out to help me up, she was one of the few friends I had who'd stuck with me through this hell. She and I had travelled across the globe, looking at various monuments and religious shrines, hoping we'd find something I'd be content to watch as my vision disappeared forever.
Setting up camp in California was easy. I'd pitched enough tents and unrolled enough sleeping bags as a kid that I could do it with my eyes closed. The problem wasn't that. The problem was that I still felt unsatisfied- I didn't feel ready to give up my vision yet, I didn't feel like I'd seen The Perfect Sight. Katie came up on my left. She studied my face for a brief moment.
"Still not it, huh?"
We sat, leaning against a massive tree.
"I just... all this shit we've seen is so cool, y'know? I love it, and I love seeing it with my best friend in the world. It's just that it doesn't *mean* anything to me. I don't have any memories of those wonderful places. I don't feel a connection to them."
"I get that. I'm sorry, Max. I tried to find places for you, places you would like. I guess I just didn't try hard enough..."
Her voice trailed off as she looked down.
"No! No. Katie, you did way more than you had to, way more than I could've ever asked of you. You've been absolutely perfect."
With those last words, the hints of a smile took hold in her face, and something clicked in my brain.
Maybe it was seeing, through permanent tunnel-vision, the way the sun caught her eyes just right and glinted off her golden-brown hair. Maybe it was the way she squeezed my hand when I slipped it into hers. Maybe it was just realizing that the sight I had been looking for had been traveling alongside me for months, and that I was deeply, deeply in love with her.
Whatever it was, I was finally satisfied as the gray closed over her beautiful face, marking the last thing I ever saw. | There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I know I'm too late to get any traction here, but I had to speak up: this is my actual situation.
I have a rare genetic disorder called *retinitis pigmentosa*. It starts with night blindness and compromised peripheral vision. Then comes tunnel vision. Loss of color. Then blindness.
Right now, I'm in the night blindness stage with slipping periphery. I'm spending a hefty chunk of 2017 traveling all over the world to see famous sites, or less famous things that I have always wanted to take in. Examples include Scottish moors, ice caves, and the least light-polluted spots on the planet. Suggestions are welcome!
It's interesting to read your entries! | There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | This is just my actual life. It's called retinitis pigmentosa. I'm going to Iceland to look at stuff in April. I know this is violating the rules, or whatever, but I just can't not say something. Also nonfiction is subjective enough that some would argue there is no nonfiction, that all writing is interpretation, and that all that matters is whether the story is well written. So let's just admit nonfiction is still writing, and not take this down. Please.
The truth is the things I want to see most are not a sweeping landscape despite my current mission to go to Iceland and look at stuff.. The things I want to see the most are simple and mundane. I want to see my husband's face as he ages, my children's as they grow. I want to see as much of my family as I can before I can't anymore.
It isn't even that I will want to see them, it is that I want them to be seen. There is this incredible emotional need to see and be seen. I don't want them to ever feel like I don't see them.
It is silly to think that I need to physically see them in order to metaphorically see them... but in a weird way we do need that physicality, that immediacy, that connection.
One day I will wander the gallery of my mind, years after I can no longer see, and I will look at the faces of my family. The image will be faded and blurred, pieced together from small fractions of their faces that I glimpsed at in the last year's when my vision was a small pin prick of clarity in a swirl of blurred colors and shapes.
The last image is a collage hung in my heart and revisited impulsively, driven by a nagging physical need to SEE them, to know them as they are, the image shifting, morphing, fracturing and fraying...
And when I let that image go, when I stop feeling that last image to be a true image of them, stop needing it to be so, that moment will be the first moment when I will be truly blind, a true citizen of the sightless world. I will be a new self in a new world.
The last image will be an idea, a memory of a previous life, a previous me. | There are a lot of beautiful people out there, as well a lot of beautiful scenery, but there is one thing I would like to see more than anything in the world. So I started my search, get on the internet, look for the perfect place, the perfect people the time of day to accomplish this wasn't important.
Even with my condition getting worse I know there is one thing I want to see more than anything. So I collect my small fortune from the bank, and begin my short journey.
Just west of downtown, I find my subject, she's only a child, early teens, 13 or 14, she hops off the school bus and makes her way to her home. I follow, far enough behind to not appear creepy or threatening.
I wait about 10 minutes, approach the home, and knock at the door. The young girl answers, her mother not far behind her. I look at her, my vision almost gone. "I'm going blind" I say, "but, before I lose my vision entirely, there is one thing I always wanted to see"
Her mother is at the door, "You perv.. " I interrupt, "Hear me out please, it's not what you think." I reach in my coat pocket, and proceed to pull the envelope out and hand it to the young girl. "You and your family can use this more than I can."
She is skeptic, but opens the envelope, looks inside, a tear rolls down her face, she turns to her mother to show her the contents, she slips a corner of the money out and counts the hundreds, I see the look of gratitude in their faces. I smile knowing I'll keep that in my mind for the rest of my life, I turn and go back down the road to catch a bus back uptown. |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | David sat next to me on the couch laughing as he tried again to grab my phone. We tussled, he pressed his face to mine - touching foreheads as he kissed me gently on the lips.
"Why won't you let me see them? You're being ridiculous." I could see something - his eye?
No. All I saw was haze. The opthalmologists diagnosed me with macular degeneration 2 years ago. That's the end of the road for a surgeon. After a slew of second opinions I took early retirement and convinced David to take a sabbatical. We'd been together 20 years - since I first saw him across on the quad in our first month of medical school. We looked at each other and we just knew we'd found a kindred spirit.
Our careers engulfed our 20s and 30s and by our 40s we'd just settled into our stride. Different hospitals, different fields, no kids, no pets - just each other. It was heaven.
In the two years since "D-day" we had gone just about everywhere. The suitcase in the corner of the sitting room still had some dirt from the rice field in Vietnam where David thought it would be hilarious to try his hand at creating the world's first rice zen garden. We'd got to Turkey and Tibet, the Gold coast and Phuket and even got in two wild life safaris in Botswana. When my eye sight got worse we stuck to the more touristy things we'd always wanted to do but never got round to - the bold, brash Pompedou centre in Paris, the bright colours of the Princess Reine Sofia museum in Madrid and the pink-purple splendour of the Japanese cherry festival. We just managed to get to the tulip festival in Amsterdam and squeeze in Vietnam (David wanted to try a cookery course) before the eyes gave up for good.
Every now and then I can focus but it's getting harder. As David and I lay together on the couch he pulled away and tried again to grab my phone.
"I want to see it! This "perfect image" that you took us on this International roadtrip to capture. I bet it was Mexico - you've always had such a fascination with that Day of the Dead and those skulls! Or the Taj Mahal - you've always liked the romance of that mausoleum to love. Or maybe something really cheesy like the pebbles on Brighton beach when you insisted on making an artistic sculpture to immortalise our luuuuuurrrve!"
I grinned and handed him the phone. A David-shape pounced on it and I concentrated as hard as I could as his face gradually came into focus. I could see him, his green eyes staring at the screen intently as he swiped through my prized photos on my battered iPhone. His face looked more and more puzzled as he looked at what I knew was there - photo after photo of David. David on the beach looking pensive. David in Milan looking harried. David on the sofa napping with arms and legs gloriously akimbo.
"You've got to be kidding me - where is this image we went on such a wild goose chase for?"
I smiled as I drew him close and said, "You have been my soulmate in this world and the next. I only started living the day you came into my life. You are the first person I want to see when I get up in the morning and the last person I want to see when I get into bed. The sabbatical was just so I could take you to all the places you've nagged me about but that we never took the time to go to. The only image I want to remember - is you....."
I held his face as long as I could as our tears ran. He leant in to kiss me and his face blurred and became haze. This was the last image I would see.
It was perfection. | "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
|
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | We were used to sitting in doctor's offices by now. I had become numb to hearing "it didn't work" and "don't worry, we'll keep trying - you'll conceive next time." But this time was different - I knew I had a short amount of time before my vision would go, and my dream was to see the face of my child, our child, before it was dark forever. This was our second time trying IVF, and I had a confidence that I hadn't felt before - this was the time. The doctor walked in as I clenched my husband's hand.
"You did it."
We've spent all of our money on radiation for ovarian cancer and attempting to get pregnant that we had nothing left. We had no money for a crib, so my husband built one. Occasionally throughout the day my sight would go black and I would wonder if this was it, but a little kick from my womb would snap me back. During ultrasounds I would carefully study each crease on the child's face, just in case my sight would give out before they were born. We had the option of learning the sex, but I refused - I wanted to be able to see it for myself.
Six months into the pregnancy I began to lose my color vision. Everything was duller, but I was still able to see my belly grow larger each week. While cleaning the kitchen one evening, I felt a warm liquid stream down my leg. Assuming it was urine, as incontinence was common during this pregnancy, I grabbed a dish towel and waddled to the bathroom. While my color perception was off, I noticed a reddish hue on the cloth and began to scream.
I couldn't lose this baby. I needed to see them.
In the ER the fluorescent lights seemed brighter than usual but the nurses' faces were blurry. I was hooked up to an ultrasound and my world stood still as we waited for a heartbeat. For the first time since getting pregnant, I turned away from the screen and closed my eyes.
"She's fine. She's going to be okay, you're going to be okay."
She? I opened my eyes and there was darkness. A hue of grey was centered in my vision, but nothing more. I whipped my head towards my husband, but there was nothing. Just a slate-shaded cave. Frantically, I looked toward the ultrasound screen and the doctor, but still, nothing. It was gone.
Three months went by and the grey faded into black. I was angry at how I could no longer help around the house or work. "You're the home for our baby, sweetheart, and that's all we need," my husband would say. The baby I would never see.
I delivered Moseley in August. As the doctor placed her in my arms, I ran my hand over her small face. I felt her nose, her puffy cheeks, and a little patch of hair on her head. "It's brown, like her mom's," the delivery nurse told me.
I closed my eyes and smelled the top of her head. Everything lingered longer in my nose after I lost my sight. I opened my eyes and saw her face. No gray. No black. But her. Only her. I saw nothing else in the room, not my husband, the doctors, the nurses, the fetal monitor, nothing.
Behind me, I heard a voice whisper as my vision went dark again for the final time.
"You did it." | "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
|
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's probably 7a.m. The bedroom ceiling is glowing faintly with curtain filtered sunlight. I miss watching the dust motes dance. But it's okay.
It's been 20 years since we sat with two mugs of coffee between us. I should have stolen more glances of you back then. But it's okay.
It's been 15 years since we finally got our own place and more than two mugs in the apartment. It was for just in case we have dinner guests. We hardly did. But it's okay.
It's been 10 years since we heard the doctor read out the result of my failing eyesight. We argued about traveling and you cried again. But it's okay.
It's been five years since we found Mollie, my guide dog, your second snuggle buddy. I'm starting to feel my way around our place a little more. But it's okay.
It's probably 8a.m. It's a weekend so you won't be up yet. Recently, you keep asking me what else I want to see. I've seen everything I want to see.
20 years ago. You were blushing so much. Mumbling and talking with your hands about your favourite bands because I asked. I watched you drink your hot matcha tea while I took smaller sips of my mocha on the second floor of the coffee shop.
15 years ago I saw your eyes stare at every inch of the walls, ceiling, floor before lying down and breathing out a small "it's perfect". We were giggly and bought too much kitchenware for just two people. I'll never tire of watching you cook in the small but cosy kitchen.
10 years ago I watched your hand tighten around mine at the doctor's office. I saw determination and recklessness on your face a month after when I came home to you sitting at the dining table with our passports. You teared up and said we should have gone years ago. The house was empty for five months.
5 years ago I watched you sign the papers for a new occupant in our small apartment, Mollie. Beautiful Mollie. More often than not, you'd be asleep with her on the couch after I step out of the shower. Everything illuminated by the TV screen looked like a coloured blur at this time.
It's probably 9a.m. I can't read the clock on the wall anymore. I can't make out the pattern on our blankets either. But I can feel you and it's okay. I must have moved too much. You turned around, said good morning. Gently, pulled me under your chin and fell asleep again.
I don't need to travel anymore. I don't need to stay up hoping I can see stars again. The perfect image has always been there. Soaked in sunlight, inches from my face. The one last perfect image I want to see has always been you. | "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
|
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's been about a year since the diagnosis. The doctors said it was incurable and it would rapidly progress. Luckily the doctor didn't know everything in this case. The initial estimate was that I'd be completely blind within a couple of weeks but, like I said...one year later and here we are.
After the diagnosis there were a lot of tears as to be expected, mostly from my mate...and myself...ok a lot from myself...shut up I can't help that I'm sensitive.
So about a week after it happened we decided to use the funds we'd saved up from working to go in search of what I called my "final sunrise" something that would stick with me for the rest of time. It started in London, we saw Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (a little too rich for my tastes but hey, to each their own), the Millennium Wheel was really cool, though being that high up gave me vertigo.
After London, we went north, to the land where my family hailed, Scotland! I got to see our family estate and got to show my mate around it. The air was so clear that day and the sky the purest blue. But still, that sunset escaped me. A month after the United Kingdom and we were off to Egypt for a pilgrimage to see the place where my and his faith were practiced in earnest millennia ago. By now my sight had begun to narrow but still, the Great Pyramids were as awe inspiring to me as they must have been to travelers all those era's ago.
Though we couldn't go everywhere we wanted, because of work, because of life, because of all those little moments. We still went on one last trip. My mate surprised me over dinner one evening in October, right around Halloween, he'd gotten two round trip tickets to Tokyo. Both of us being unapologetic fans of anime of all kinds, it was the magnum opus of our escapade around the world. Tokyo, Kyoto and the Great Shrine of Inari, and of course, the Hokkaido Fox Village. I got to pet one of those catdogs up close! Best. Day. EVER! I could just make out those derpy looks on their muzzles as they tried to steal my backpack.
So...did I ever find my sunset? I'm about to. This will probably be the last thing I see. I only have a few days left before it goes completely dark. This will most likely be my last time writing like this. So much for my career as a writer right? ah well. I'd go on a spiel about the best-laid plans and something deep like that as I'm often known to do, but as my best man just pointed out, I'm about to be late for my own wedding!
I don't know if anyone will ever read this diary thing besides me and Eric, but if you happen to stumble upon it take my advice: See the world as if it was the last time you'd be able to. Take in each color, each detail, absorb it and memorize it, you'll be glad you did later.
(So that's my first time ever posting here and the first time EVER publishing anything I've written online. I know, my grammar sucks.) | "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
|
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I've been saving this compliment for months now. It's nothing too special. Not a Magnum Opus by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll have the desired effect. My vision is nearing its end. I'm not scared. To some, blindness may be terrifying; however, I had a plan. We've taken measures to assure a long and comfortable life when it does finally go. Besides, I have her.
I'm sitting up in bed, an activity I'd seen much of recently, and contemplating my master plan. A flurry of emotion washes over me. It usually does when my mind becomes occupied with her. I panic momentarily, fearing the worst, but manage to bring myself to peace.
I hear footsteps on the landing below. Soft and muffled from the thick green carpet that covers both the tight, clumsy staircase and the attic which had become our bedroom. A movement draws what's left of my vision to the stairs as she hops up the last step.
Draped in her favourite oversized T-shirt, which dropped nearly down to her knees, she flops down next to me. Her beauty never did lie in elegance. Rather, it was her childlike glee and jumpiness that pulled the corners of my lips into a smile. Her imperfections brought her to life, just as they stole my heart the moment I laid my eyes on her. The same eyes that had little life left in them.
I turn over to her and whisper her name. She returns my gaze. "Yes?" she replies. "I have something very important to tell you." I say "You have a very special talent. Something nobody but you can ever do. You alone can make me smile and laugh and feel butterflies in my stomach when moments before I'd been sobbing like a lost child."
I examine her face, awaiting her response. She smiles, slowly at first, then a full grin. Her cheeks rise and she begins to squint, ever so slightly, showing her laugh lines in the corner of her eyes. She shies away from compliments, so her chin tilts downwards. Some loose strands of hair tumble forward and cast small shadows over her face. She's trying to hide, but doesn't break eye contact with me. Her big, brown doe eyes are easy to get lost in.
This adorable smile is one I've come to love. It encapsulates all of her beauty and proves her humbleness. Not knowing just how beautiful she is makes her even more beautiful in a sense. I close my eyes and lean in for a kiss. Our lips touch gently. Then, calmly and carefully, I rest my head in the crook of her neck. We lay together in tranquility, listening to the rise and fall of our chests and the beating of our hearts.
Sleep comes for me. As I feel myself losing consciousness, I recall the image of her shy smile and feel my own lips curl into a grin. My breathing slows and the light fades - forevermore. | "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
|
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | and as my vision starts to fade
i search tirelessly for the view
the one that i'll see for the rest of my days
the one that will still drive me through;
will it be a sunrise bright
set alight by stark contrast and hue
or maybe the forest on a summer morning
grass glittering with chilling dew;
i can fret as i may and believe what i like
for i never had thought that i knew
but from the second they told me i knew it quite well
i want to see always an image of you.
| "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
|
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | She took a step forward, her legs aching with years of experience. Her body was not what it once was, but she had used it well. The bruises, the scars, and even the wrinkles all had a story to tell. How she loved to tell them. Children listened intently, eyes open in awe to the sacrifices of the olden days. Those eyes, so much less scarred than hers.
Her eyes held a mysterious depth that absorbed attention with unsatiable hunger. No one could look at those eyes and come out unscathed. Not even her. The stories these told... And not a single word spoken. She saw empires rise and fall all over again everytime she stood in front of a mirror. She saw images of the Sunedeith War and the Seventh Revolution. She saw the dying embers of what once was her city. She still kept one small black stone from her home, stolen from the garden path of her grandmothers' house. A memento of times past and a reminder of continued survival. Her grandmother had survived the Red Eclipse. Her house was one of the few structures that survived the second fall of Bravor. Not that it mattered. Her grandmother had long ago left this realm. As for her, she never returned to that house. It was old and a painful reminder of war. Much like herself, it had seen too much.
People respected her in a way they would respect a God. They would see in her hope, strength, and guidance. They did not see humanity. She was their victories and failures. She was her ship and her soldiers. Even to the weapons they carried. She was reminder of war. The feared her. Not that she cared about any of it. She had fulfilled her role and now she wanted nothing more than to live as simply Selena.
And to the many children sitting in front of her, she was Selena, the storyteller. Children where the only ones who saw her as just another human. An old lady with bags of treats and stories. Stories their parents would never dare tell them. But oh did they need to know. Knowledge as such was hard to come by. Generations to come would find themselved lacking. And this was dangerous, she knew as much. These stories could not die with her.
She also knew, she had little time. The shakes had started. Her vision blurred day by day. Her field of vision growing small and pitiful. She had seen so much already, feeling she had seen too much of the world for it to matter. But she was wrong.
There was one more thing.
Her mother, as strong of a woman and fighter as she was, was also an lover. As a lover, she was an artist. It led to much suffering but her mother loved life, as dark as it was. She simply painted in darker colours. She always hid a little bit of brightness that you could only catch if you looked for it in the right light. However, it had all been lost in the Seventh Revolution. At least, that is what she believed, until Caleb gave her a box.
Caleb was an orphan of barely 13 years old. Smart as a whip, tough as the rock in her pocket. Like her mother, he was an artist too. He appreciated life the way younglings do, naive and resilient with a mind full of wonder. So much curiosity hidden in the depth of their mind, waiting to come out at a moments notice. When he was found in Aria 72, he held his one material posession close to his chest. At mere 4 years old he had survived the end of the world as he knew it only clutching a box full of dried paints and broken brushes. A strange posession for a boy so young found in the remnants of a T-2378z. But he kept the box close, insisting on becoming the first artist of the New World. His father, a surgeon, had once told him that a world without art was only a skeleton of civilization.
Caleb took his mission with pride, discovering colours even in the solid grey walls of the New Aria settlement. He painted with a passion and precision his father would proud of. Selena had never once seen his work. Caleb always painted in secret.
With expecting eyes and a whispered thank you, he handed her a simple brown box. Inside, a treasure no one but Caleb had seen. A treasure so precious, it would be first shared between them. She knew she wouldn't be able to appreciate every detail, not that it mattered. She opened the box and her world exploded in colour. Even in the blurrines of her sight she would recognise her home anywhere. Selena clutched the rock in her posession close to her chest and smiled, looking up to Caleb. Such a beautiful boy, he reminded her so much of her father. Caleb had given her the most beautiful gift. He had given Selena her home. So she gave him one of his own. As Caleb held the rock in his hand, she looked at his face and the world around her disappeared. But she was not alone. Caleb held her hand and hugged her. No, she was not alone. She had a new family now.
Sorry for formatting or mistakes. English is not my first language and I used my phone to type. Feedback welcome. Enjoy! | "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
|
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | “There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”
I always hated that quote. I preferred “There’s always a silver lining.” Since it wasn’t so literal for me.
Being blind kind of sucked.
Right, where was I? Oh yes, hating stuff.
I hated that ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ quote. It was because of my condition where my vision slowly shrank, I don’t remember the technical term but most folks call it ‘Tunnel Vision’.
Really hate that.
So I figure I should go out with one last hurrah!
Most folks who are about to be married usually go out to a strip club.
People who are about to die do whatever the hell they want.
I was going to go blind so I figured I’d go find the best looking thing out there and engrave it into my brain that I’d never forget. Problem is, I had no idea what I was looking for.
I hated that feeling of being lost.
But I had money and I had plenty of time so I travelled the world.
Mountains looked nice enough but I was too cold to appreciate them.
Monuments were impressive but they never really lived up to the hype.
Hell I’ve thrown money at dozens of prostitutes just to see a bunch of girls all over me.
My wife really hated that.
Didn’t surprise me that she left.
Honestly it wasn’t even the prostitutes that got her. It was the fact that I spent years away from her looking for the last perfect image.
Well, I’m an idiot. I know that now. I should’ve stayed with her, been there with her. She was that perfect image, the one thing engraved into my head that I’d never forget.
I don’t even care if I’m blind anymore. I’d give up all my senses just to be with her, hell I’d even give up seeing her if I had that chance.
But now it was too late.
I have Tunnel Vision.
And I hate it.
| "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
|
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Human cried again today.
We went on an adventure earlier, or at least I thought it would be. We ended up at The Cold Place, and boy do I hate it there. I can't help it, but when I'm there I can't stop shivering. I don't know if it's because its cold, or because I know what's coming.
Human put me on the cold table and Person with Cold Hands came into the room, she always smells like clean. She touched me all over, and I shivered even more. She's really nice, but I don't think I like her. I was hoping that she wouldn't poke me again, but she did. It doesn't really hurt, but it always catches me off guard - and I must always be on guard, to protect Human!
They removed me from the cold table and Human had a long discussion with Person With Cold Hands. They both looked a little worried. I just waited by the door because I couldn't wait to get out of there. Once we got back in the Go Faster, Human sat me down in the seat next to him and looked at me with sad eyes, at least from what I could tell.
What's wrong Human?
He grabbed my head and held my eyes open, taking turns with each one. It was almost like he was looking for something. He just stared at my eyes and sighed. I heard his sniffles.
What is he looking for? Since I was a small, my sight has been slowly been going black so there isn't much to look for in there. Maybe he lost something and thought he might find it in my eyes? Silly Human.
Whatever it is, I can find it. I know I can.
After a long nap, Human started getting adventure stuff together! I was so excited! I hoped it was The Fun Place, I make friends there all the time. Although, I've been ramming into things and other woofs lately - so that might be tough.
To my surprise, we ended up at a huge place with many tall woods. It seemed very familiar. We walked together for a very long time, it was so much fun. I hopped in and out the long tickles from the ground, I swam in the warm wet stuff, and we even played get the round thing in the open field. I was very happy, and so was Human.
As the Big Bright Round Thing started to leave, I couldn't catch my much smaller one that well. I just couldn't see it. That's when Human called me over and we started walking again, but this time we went a little faster. He had to help me on the way, but we made it to a very high place,
We stopped at a top of a ledge. Human sat down in the short tickles from the ground and told me to lay down next to him, which I did - but only if he gave me a belly rub. After an amazing tummy pat, he told me took up. I remember this place now.
Human took me here when I was a small. Other Human met up with us that day, and he brought his Woof with him too - he was a big. That was the first time I sniffed them. Big Woof was very nice and taught me many things. Other Human was also very nice and loving - he gave the best belly rubs.
The four of us had treats and stared at the Big Bright Round Thing being thrown out of the sky. It was very warm and pretty. I told Big Woof that I want to catch it one day, and he said that he'd beat me to it.
Human and Other Human loved each other very much, Big Woof and I could tell. After that day, the four of us were inseparable - our very own pack.
One day, Human started crying and couldn’t stop. Other Human and Big Woof didn't come home that day. I never saw their Go Faster again either. Human said it was totaled, whatever that meant. I really miss them.
Human and I sat in the same spots we were sitting in that day. As the Big Bright Round Thing gets further away, it somehow creates the exact same image we saw with Other Human and Big Woof. I could barely see it, but I knew it was there.
Human started crying again and held me closer. He kept repeating, "One last time, baby, just one more time." as he stroked my ears. Eventually, everything went black.
It's okay Human, I can smell them.
I swear I can smell them.
| "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
|
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Katie sighed, blowing hair out of her eyes.
"It's 4:30 AM, Max. The flight's at 6. Do we really need to go now?"
"Yes," I explained, "if I miss this flight and spend my last day of sight in Jacksonville, I'm never gonna let myself forget it."
She smiled.
"Well, it's good to see you at least happy to go to new places."
We got onto the plane with me only falling over a couple times. Katie had gotten pretty good at knowing when I'd trip, and catching me when I did. Having a best friend as good as her never failed to make me smile, even in the early days of the disease when I ate pavement several times a day. Hand always out to help me up, she was one of the few friends I had who'd stuck with me through this hell. She and I had travelled across the globe, looking at various monuments and religious shrines, hoping we'd find something I'd be content to watch as my vision disappeared forever.
Setting up camp in California was easy. I'd pitched enough tents and unrolled enough sleeping bags as a kid that I could do it with my eyes closed. The problem wasn't that. The problem was that I still felt unsatisfied- I didn't feel ready to give up my vision yet, I didn't feel like I'd seen The Perfect Sight. Katie came up on my left. She studied my face for a brief moment.
"Still not it, huh?"
We sat, leaning against a massive tree.
"I just... all this shit we've seen is so cool, y'know? I love it, and I love seeing it with my best friend in the world. It's just that it doesn't *mean* anything to me. I don't have any memories of those wonderful places. I don't feel a connection to them."
"I get that. I'm sorry, Max. I tried to find places for you, places you would like. I guess I just didn't try hard enough..."
Her voice trailed off as she looked down.
"No! No. Katie, you did way more than you had to, way more than I could've ever asked of you. You've been absolutely perfect."
With those last words, the hints of a smile took hold in her face, and something clicked in my brain.
Maybe it was seeing, through permanent tunnel-vision, the way the sun caught her eyes just right and glinted off her golden-brown hair. Maybe it was the way she squeezed my hand when I slipped it into hers. Maybe it was just realizing that the sight I had been looking for had been traveling alongside me for months, and that I was deeply, deeply in love with her.
Whatever it was, I was finally satisfied as the gray closed over her beautiful face, marking the last thing I ever saw. | "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I know I'm too late to get any traction here, but I had to speak up: this is my actual situation.
I have a rare genetic disorder called *retinitis pigmentosa*. It starts with night blindness and compromised peripheral vision. Then comes tunnel vision. Loss of color. Then blindness.
Right now, I'm in the night blindness stage with slipping periphery. I'm spending a hefty chunk of 2017 traveling all over the world to see famous sites, or less famous things that I have always wanted to take in. Examples include Scottish moors, ice caves, and the least light-polluted spots on the planet. Suggestions are welcome!
It's interesting to read your entries! | "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | This is just my actual life. It's called retinitis pigmentosa. I'm going to Iceland to look at stuff in April. I know this is violating the rules, or whatever, but I just can't not say something. Also nonfiction is subjective enough that some would argue there is no nonfiction, that all writing is interpretation, and that all that matters is whether the story is well written. So let's just admit nonfiction is still writing, and not take this down. Please.
The truth is the things I want to see most are not a sweeping landscape despite my current mission to go to Iceland and look at stuff.. The things I want to see the most are simple and mundane. I want to see my husband's face as he ages, my children's as they grow. I want to see as much of my family as I can before I can't anymore.
It isn't even that I will want to see them, it is that I want them to be seen. There is this incredible emotional need to see and be seen. I don't want them to ever feel like I don't see them.
It is silly to think that I need to physically see them in order to metaphorically see them... but in a weird way we do need that physicality, that immediacy, that connection.
One day I will wander the gallery of my mind, years after I can no longer see, and I will look at the faces of my family. The image will be faded and blurred, pieced together from small fractions of their faces that I glimpsed at in the last year's when my vision was a small pin prick of clarity in a swirl of blurred colors and shapes.
The last image is a collage hung in my heart and revisited impulsively, driven by a nagging physical need to SEE them, to know them as they are, the image shifting, morphing, fracturing and fraying...
And when I let that image go, when I stop feeling that last image to be a true image of them, stop needing it to be so, that moment will be the first moment when I will be truly blind, a true citizen of the sightless world. I will be a new self in a new world.
The last image will be an idea, a memory of a previous life, a previous me. | "It's worse than we thought."
Blindness doesn't announce itself.
If you think it's like watching the world through a long tunnel, it isn't like that at all. Peripheral narrowing happens so slowly, you don't notice it as it's leaving you. Like everything you take for granted.
My wife noticed it first. She threw my keys to me, at what was about a forty-five degree angle from head on. I reached for them, and suddenly I lost sight. They careened into my hip, bounced off, hit the floor. When I turned my head, saw her... she was worried. I was upset with her for hitting me, so we argued.
I didn't want to go the optometrist. When he pulled the weirdly insectile multi-lensed thing away from my face, his tone was calm, but his expression was familiar. I'd just seen it on her.
"A few more tests" turned, inevitably, into a diagnosis, which turned into a deadline.
I took it out on the people around me. Her, especially. You understand, don't you? There's nothing more human than hating the messenger. (...Like just then, when I told you that.)
The doctors told me "It's important to have a plan" for what I would do next. It was important for me to know that my life wasn't over. It was important to have a support system. It was important, it was important it was important. Advice was shouted at me from every corner, harassing me, haranguing me.
I told them I was a professional photographer.
They stopped talking, looked at each other, and no one knew what to say. So, they went away.
Part of me was happy for the abandonment. Meanwhile, the condition got worse.
My neck ached all the time from turning my head like an owl. I hardly left the house, except for checkups. I got mean. My wife got quiet. The world was shrinking away from me.
And then, this checkup.
"You've been overprocessing on the remains of your retina for a while now, so you haven't noticed the degeneration's actual progress," the man said, I couldn't tell if the vagueness about him came from my condition, or my apathy. "but it's... not good. When it fails completely, it'll happen *fast*."
...Three days.
The date sounded familiar. It took me until the car ride back to realize. "Eclipse."
"What?" She replied. It had been quiet, in the way that she had taken to talking to me. I realized that she had been staring at me in in the rearview, glancing sidelong at me the entire trip. I felt the venom rise, unbidden.
"No. Nevermind." My voice was colder than the lake in December. "Forget it."
"Can I-"
"*No.*"
I was already not paying attention to her, not bothering to think on why she had started to blink rapidly. A total solar eclipse. They always said not to look at one directly, didn't they? What could I do, go blind?
The thought fixated me. My retinas would be the last film I'd ever develop, overexposed, seared with the image of the Sun winking out... perfect.
And there was only one place to do it from. A lookout point that I'd always loved. It had a clear view. It had a lethal drop. "Important to have a plan", the words rang in my head. It was perfect.
The day came. It was important, beyond important that I get there. I told her the plan. I heaped abuse on her, as we left twenty minutes late. I cursed and spat at the cars around us, as traffic appeared out of nowhere. I went incandescent with rage, as people, evidentally with the idea of watching the eclipse too, turned the mountain road into a parking lot.
She rammed one car ahead of us, shoving it roughly out of the way. She screamed, why, I couldn't say, then rode uphill roughly on the shoulder. The sideview mirror flew off, and then the one on her side. Paint rubbed off the sides in a shriek of metal... I hung on, teeth gritted, my mind as clear as a flying cruise missile's.
And then, we were there. I stepped out into the glory of a fiery twilight sky. I walked, carefully, to the edge. The guardrails only came up to my hip. It would be easy to vault.
There was a scattering of excited conversation. I looked at the amber orb in the sky, and there, the faintest sliver of blackness intruded.
I felt a pressure on my hand. It was her. She was holding it tightly. I stared ahead, hardly daring to blink, but the stinging tears forced it...
It was almost there. The world was going dark. ...Her hand was wet. "It's beautiful." She said, in the same calm, quiet voice.
I don't know why. I looked at her.
And her face was the perfect picture of agony.
She wasn't looking at me now, she had been transfixed by that coming darkness... but I was looking at her. Had her face looked like that every time she had spoke to me in that quiet voice? Why hadn't I noticed until now?! She was beautiful, so beautiful in the golden glow of the magic hour, but she was so *sad*, it was a spear thrust through my chest... And then her face started to go black, too.
A new urgency electrified me. "Honey... Honey!" She turned, looked, saw me, and understood in that instant. "I'm so... so sorry!" I managed, wracked with sobs that had come out of nowhere...
She took my hand, pressed it against her face, kissed the palm, and tears slicked down it... It was messy crying, whole-body crying...
The darkness was coming closer, and I saw from the reflection in her gaze that it wasn't just from the eclipse...
"Please... please smile for me."
Snot-streaked, and red-eyed... hair blown to hell by the wind... Her chapped lips blossomed out into an enormous smile that filled me, from the soles of my shoes with impossible joy.
*It was perfect.*
The light went out around us. We kissed like the first time, the second, the third... And once more, for good measure. I managed apologies around our mouths meeting, trying, and failing, and trying again. She held me so tight with one arm, my vertebrae popped, her other keeping my hand pressed to her creased, beautiful face, and I knew it by touch as well as by sight.
No one notices blindness arriving. But you do when it leaves.
...Two days later. I started sculpting. I'm pretty good.
THE END
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|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's probably 7a.m. The bedroom ceiling is glowing faintly with curtain filtered sunlight. I miss watching the dust motes dance. But it's okay.
It's been 20 years since we sat with two mugs of coffee between us. I should have stolen more glances of you back then. But it's okay.
It's been 15 years since we finally got our own place and more than two mugs in the apartment. It was for just in case we have dinner guests. We hardly did. But it's okay.
It's been 10 years since we heard the doctor read out the result of my failing eyesight. We argued about traveling and you cried again. But it's okay.
It's been five years since we found Mollie, my guide dog, your second snuggle buddy. I'm starting to feel my way around our place a little more. But it's okay.
It's probably 8a.m. It's a weekend so you won't be up yet. Recently, you keep asking me what else I want to see. I've seen everything I want to see.
20 years ago. You were blushing so much. Mumbling and talking with your hands about your favourite bands because I asked. I watched you drink your hot matcha tea while I took smaller sips of my mocha on the second floor of the coffee shop.
15 years ago I saw your eyes stare at every inch of the walls, ceiling, floor before lying down and breathing out a small "it's perfect". We were giggly and bought too much kitchenware for just two people. I'll never tire of watching you cook in the small but cosy kitchen.
10 years ago I watched your hand tighten around mine at the doctor's office. I saw determination and recklessness on your face a month after when I came home to you sitting at the dining table with our passports. You teared up and said we should have gone years ago. The house was empty for five months.
5 years ago I watched you sign the papers for a new occupant in our small apartment, Mollie. Beautiful Mollie. More often than not, you'd be asleep with her on the couch after I step out of the shower. Everything illuminated by the TV screen looked like a coloured blur at this time.
It's probably 9a.m. I can't read the clock on the wall anymore. I can't make out the pattern on our blankets either. But I can feel you and it's okay. I must have moved too much. You turned around, said good morning. Gently, pulled me under your chin and fell asleep again.
I don't need to travel anymore. I don't need to stay up hoping I can see stars again. The perfect image has always been there. Soaked in sunlight, inches from my face. The one last perfect image I want to see has always been you. | My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's been about a year since the diagnosis. The doctors said it was incurable and it would rapidly progress. Luckily the doctor didn't know everything in this case. The initial estimate was that I'd be completely blind within a couple of weeks but, like I said...one year later and here we are.
After the diagnosis there were a lot of tears as to be expected, mostly from my mate...and myself...ok a lot from myself...shut up I can't help that I'm sensitive.
So about a week after it happened we decided to use the funds we'd saved up from working to go in search of what I called my "final sunrise" something that would stick with me for the rest of time. It started in London, we saw Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (a little too rich for my tastes but hey, to each their own), the Millennium Wheel was really cool, though being that high up gave me vertigo.
After London, we went north, to the land where my family hailed, Scotland! I got to see our family estate and got to show my mate around it. The air was so clear that day and the sky the purest blue. But still, that sunset escaped me. A month after the United Kingdom and we were off to Egypt for a pilgrimage to see the place where my and his faith were practiced in earnest millennia ago. By now my sight had begun to narrow but still, the Great Pyramids were as awe inspiring to me as they must have been to travelers all those era's ago.
Though we couldn't go everywhere we wanted, because of work, because of life, because of all those little moments. We still went on one last trip. My mate surprised me over dinner one evening in October, right around Halloween, he'd gotten two round trip tickets to Tokyo. Both of us being unapologetic fans of anime of all kinds, it was the magnum opus of our escapade around the world. Tokyo, Kyoto and the Great Shrine of Inari, and of course, the Hokkaido Fox Village. I got to pet one of those catdogs up close! Best. Day. EVER! I could just make out those derpy looks on their muzzles as they tried to steal my backpack.
So...did I ever find my sunset? I'm about to. This will probably be the last thing I see. I only have a few days left before it goes completely dark. This will most likely be my last time writing like this. So much for my career as a writer right? ah well. I'd go on a spiel about the best-laid plans and something deep like that as I'm often known to do, but as my best man just pointed out, I'm about to be late for my own wedding!
I don't know if anyone will ever read this diary thing besides me and Eric, but if you happen to stumble upon it take my advice: See the world as if it was the last time you'd be able to. Take in each color, each detail, absorb it and memorize it, you'll be glad you did later.
(So that's my first time ever posting here and the first time EVER publishing anything I've written online. I know, my grammar sucks.) | My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I've been saving this compliment for months now. It's nothing too special. Not a Magnum Opus by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll have the desired effect. My vision is nearing its end. I'm not scared. To some, blindness may be terrifying; however, I had a plan. We've taken measures to assure a long and comfortable life when it does finally go. Besides, I have her.
I'm sitting up in bed, an activity I'd seen much of recently, and contemplating my master plan. A flurry of emotion washes over me. It usually does when my mind becomes occupied with her. I panic momentarily, fearing the worst, but manage to bring myself to peace.
I hear footsteps on the landing below. Soft and muffled from the thick green carpet that covers both the tight, clumsy staircase and the attic which had become our bedroom. A movement draws what's left of my vision to the stairs as she hops up the last step.
Draped in her favourite oversized T-shirt, which dropped nearly down to her knees, she flops down next to me. Her beauty never did lie in elegance. Rather, it was her childlike glee and jumpiness that pulled the corners of my lips into a smile. Her imperfections brought her to life, just as they stole my heart the moment I laid my eyes on her. The same eyes that had little life left in them.
I turn over to her and whisper her name. She returns my gaze. "Yes?" she replies. "I have something very important to tell you." I say "You have a very special talent. Something nobody but you can ever do. You alone can make me smile and laugh and feel butterflies in my stomach when moments before I'd been sobbing like a lost child."
I examine her face, awaiting her response. She smiles, slowly at first, then a full grin. Her cheeks rise and she begins to squint, ever so slightly, showing her laugh lines in the corner of her eyes. She shies away from compliments, so her chin tilts downwards. Some loose strands of hair tumble forward and cast small shadows over her face. She's trying to hide, but doesn't break eye contact with me. Her big, brown doe eyes are easy to get lost in.
This adorable smile is one I've come to love. It encapsulates all of her beauty and proves her humbleness. Not knowing just how beautiful she is makes her even more beautiful in a sense. I close my eyes and lean in for a kiss. Our lips touch gently. Then, calmly and carefully, I rest my head in the crook of her neck. We lay together in tranquility, listening to the rise and fall of our chests and the beating of our hearts.
Sleep comes for me. As I feel myself losing consciousness, I recall the image of her shy smile and feel my own lips curl into a grin. My breathing slows and the light fades - forevermore. | My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | and as my vision starts to fade
i search tirelessly for the view
the one that i'll see for the rest of my days
the one that will still drive me through;
will it be a sunrise bright
set alight by stark contrast and hue
or maybe the forest on a summer morning
grass glittering with chilling dew;
i can fret as i may and believe what i like
for i never had thought that i knew
but from the second they told me i knew it quite well
i want to see always an image of you.
| My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | She took a step forward, her legs aching with years of experience. Her body was not what it once was, but she had used it well. The bruises, the scars, and even the wrinkles all had a story to tell. How she loved to tell them. Children listened intently, eyes open in awe to the sacrifices of the olden days. Those eyes, so much less scarred than hers.
Her eyes held a mysterious depth that absorbed attention with unsatiable hunger. No one could look at those eyes and come out unscathed. Not even her. The stories these told... And not a single word spoken. She saw empires rise and fall all over again everytime she stood in front of a mirror. She saw images of the Sunedeith War and the Seventh Revolution. She saw the dying embers of what once was her city. She still kept one small black stone from her home, stolen from the garden path of her grandmothers' house. A memento of times past and a reminder of continued survival. Her grandmother had survived the Red Eclipse. Her house was one of the few structures that survived the second fall of Bravor. Not that it mattered. Her grandmother had long ago left this realm. As for her, she never returned to that house. It was old and a painful reminder of war. Much like herself, it had seen too much.
People respected her in a way they would respect a God. They would see in her hope, strength, and guidance. They did not see humanity. She was their victories and failures. She was her ship and her soldiers. Even to the weapons they carried. She was reminder of war. The feared her. Not that she cared about any of it. She had fulfilled her role and now she wanted nothing more than to live as simply Selena.
And to the many children sitting in front of her, she was Selena, the storyteller. Children where the only ones who saw her as just another human. An old lady with bags of treats and stories. Stories their parents would never dare tell them. But oh did they need to know. Knowledge as such was hard to come by. Generations to come would find themselved lacking. And this was dangerous, she knew as much. These stories could not die with her.
She also knew, she had little time. The shakes had started. Her vision blurred day by day. Her field of vision growing small and pitiful. She had seen so much already, feeling she had seen too much of the world for it to matter. But she was wrong.
There was one more thing.
Her mother, as strong of a woman and fighter as she was, was also an lover. As a lover, she was an artist. It led to much suffering but her mother loved life, as dark as it was. She simply painted in darker colours. She always hid a little bit of brightness that you could only catch if you looked for it in the right light. However, it had all been lost in the Seventh Revolution. At least, that is what she believed, until Caleb gave her a box.
Caleb was an orphan of barely 13 years old. Smart as a whip, tough as the rock in her pocket. Like her mother, he was an artist too. He appreciated life the way younglings do, naive and resilient with a mind full of wonder. So much curiosity hidden in the depth of their mind, waiting to come out at a moments notice. When he was found in Aria 72, he held his one material posession close to his chest. At mere 4 years old he had survived the end of the world as he knew it only clutching a box full of dried paints and broken brushes. A strange posession for a boy so young found in the remnants of a T-2378z. But he kept the box close, insisting on becoming the first artist of the New World. His father, a surgeon, had once told him that a world without art was only a skeleton of civilization.
Caleb took his mission with pride, discovering colours even in the solid grey walls of the New Aria settlement. He painted with a passion and precision his father would proud of. Selena had never once seen his work. Caleb always painted in secret.
With expecting eyes and a whispered thank you, he handed her a simple brown box. Inside, a treasure no one but Caleb had seen. A treasure so precious, it would be first shared between them. She knew she wouldn't be able to appreciate every detail, not that it mattered. She opened the box and her world exploded in colour. Even in the blurrines of her sight she would recognise her home anywhere. Selena clutched the rock in her posession close to her chest and smiled, looking up to Caleb. Such a beautiful boy, he reminded her so much of her father. Caleb had given her the most beautiful gift. He had given Selena her home. So she gave him one of his own. As Caleb held the rock in his hand, she looked at his face and the world around her disappeared. But she was not alone. Caleb held her hand and hugged her. No, she was not alone. She had a new family now.
Sorry for formatting or mistakes. English is not my first language and I used my phone to type. Feedback welcome. Enjoy! | My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | “There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”
I always hated that quote. I preferred “There’s always a silver lining.” Since it wasn’t so literal for me.
Being blind kind of sucked.
Right, where was I? Oh yes, hating stuff.
I hated that ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ quote. It was because of my condition where my vision slowly shrank, I don’t remember the technical term but most folks call it ‘Tunnel Vision’.
Really hate that.
So I figure I should go out with one last hurrah!
Most folks who are about to be married usually go out to a strip club.
People who are about to die do whatever the hell they want.
I was going to go blind so I figured I’d go find the best looking thing out there and engrave it into my brain that I’d never forget. Problem is, I had no idea what I was looking for.
I hated that feeling of being lost.
But I had money and I had plenty of time so I travelled the world.
Mountains looked nice enough but I was too cold to appreciate them.
Monuments were impressive but they never really lived up to the hype.
Hell I’ve thrown money at dozens of prostitutes just to see a bunch of girls all over me.
My wife really hated that.
Didn’t surprise me that she left.
Honestly it wasn’t even the prostitutes that got her. It was the fact that I spent years away from her looking for the last perfect image.
Well, I’m an idiot. I know that now. I should’ve stayed with her, been there with her. She was that perfect image, the one thing engraved into my head that I’d never forget.
I don’t even care if I’m blind anymore. I’d give up all my senses just to be with her, hell I’d even give up seeing her if I had that chance.
But now it was too late.
I have Tunnel Vision.
And I hate it.
| My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Human cried again today.
We went on an adventure earlier, or at least I thought it would be. We ended up at The Cold Place, and boy do I hate it there. I can't help it, but when I'm there I can't stop shivering. I don't know if it's because its cold, or because I know what's coming.
Human put me on the cold table and Person with Cold Hands came into the room, she always smells like clean. She touched me all over, and I shivered even more. She's really nice, but I don't think I like her. I was hoping that she wouldn't poke me again, but she did. It doesn't really hurt, but it always catches me off guard - and I must always be on guard, to protect Human!
They removed me from the cold table and Human had a long discussion with Person With Cold Hands. They both looked a little worried. I just waited by the door because I couldn't wait to get out of there. Once we got back in the Go Faster, Human sat me down in the seat next to him and looked at me with sad eyes, at least from what I could tell.
What's wrong Human?
He grabbed my head and held my eyes open, taking turns with each one. It was almost like he was looking for something. He just stared at my eyes and sighed. I heard his sniffles.
What is he looking for? Since I was a small, my sight has been slowly been going black so there isn't much to look for in there. Maybe he lost something and thought he might find it in my eyes? Silly Human.
Whatever it is, I can find it. I know I can.
After a long nap, Human started getting adventure stuff together! I was so excited! I hoped it was The Fun Place, I make friends there all the time. Although, I've been ramming into things and other woofs lately - so that might be tough.
To my surprise, we ended up at a huge place with many tall woods. It seemed very familiar. We walked together for a very long time, it was so much fun. I hopped in and out the long tickles from the ground, I swam in the warm wet stuff, and we even played get the round thing in the open field. I was very happy, and so was Human.
As the Big Bright Round Thing started to leave, I couldn't catch my much smaller one that well. I just couldn't see it. That's when Human called me over and we started walking again, but this time we went a little faster. He had to help me on the way, but we made it to a very high place,
We stopped at a top of a ledge. Human sat down in the short tickles from the ground and told me to lay down next to him, which I did - but only if he gave me a belly rub. After an amazing tummy pat, he told me took up. I remember this place now.
Human took me here when I was a small. Other Human met up with us that day, and he brought his Woof with him too - he was a big. That was the first time I sniffed them. Big Woof was very nice and taught me many things. Other Human was also very nice and loving - he gave the best belly rubs.
The four of us had treats and stared at the Big Bright Round Thing being thrown out of the sky. It was very warm and pretty. I told Big Woof that I want to catch it one day, and he said that he'd beat me to it.
Human and Other Human loved each other very much, Big Woof and I could tell. After that day, the four of us were inseparable - our very own pack.
One day, Human started crying and couldn’t stop. Other Human and Big Woof didn't come home that day. I never saw their Go Faster again either. Human said it was totaled, whatever that meant. I really miss them.
Human and I sat in the same spots we were sitting in that day. As the Big Bright Round Thing gets further away, it somehow creates the exact same image we saw with Other Human and Big Woof. I could barely see it, but I knew it was there.
Human started crying again and held me closer. He kept repeating, "One last time, baby, just one more time." as he stroked my ears. Eventually, everything went black.
It's okay Human, I can smell them.
I swear I can smell them.
| My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Katie sighed, blowing hair out of her eyes.
"It's 4:30 AM, Max. The flight's at 6. Do we really need to go now?"
"Yes," I explained, "if I miss this flight and spend my last day of sight in Jacksonville, I'm never gonna let myself forget it."
She smiled.
"Well, it's good to see you at least happy to go to new places."
We got onto the plane with me only falling over a couple times. Katie had gotten pretty good at knowing when I'd trip, and catching me when I did. Having a best friend as good as her never failed to make me smile, even in the early days of the disease when I ate pavement several times a day. Hand always out to help me up, she was one of the few friends I had who'd stuck with me through this hell. She and I had travelled across the globe, looking at various monuments and religious shrines, hoping we'd find something I'd be content to watch as my vision disappeared forever.
Setting up camp in California was easy. I'd pitched enough tents and unrolled enough sleeping bags as a kid that I could do it with my eyes closed. The problem wasn't that. The problem was that I still felt unsatisfied- I didn't feel ready to give up my vision yet, I didn't feel like I'd seen The Perfect Sight. Katie came up on my left. She studied my face for a brief moment.
"Still not it, huh?"
We sat, leaning against a massive tree.
"I just... all this shit we've seen is so cool, y'know? I love it, and I love seeing it with my best friend in the world. It's just that it doesn't *mean* anything to me. I don't have any memories of those wonderful places. I don't feel a connection to them."
"I get that. I'm sorry, Max. I tried to find places for you, places you would like. I guess I just didn't try hard enough..."
Her voice trailed off as she looked down.
"No! No. Katie, you did way more than you had to, way more than I could've ever asked of you. You've been absolutely perfect."
With those last words, the hints of a smile took hold in her face, and something clicked in my brain.
Maybe it was seeing, through permanent tunnel-vision, the way the sun caught her eyes just right and glinted off her golden-brown hair. Maybe it was the way she squeezed my hand when I slipped it into hers. Maybe it was just realizing that the sight I had been looking for had been traveling alongside me for months, and that I was deeply, deeply in love with her.
Whatever it was, I was finally satisfied as the gray closed over her beautiful face, marking the last thing I ever saw. | My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I know I'm too late to get any traction here, but I had to speak up: this is my actual situation.
I have a rare genetic disorder called *retinitis pigmentosa*. It starts with night blindness and compromised peripheral vision. Then comes tunnel vision. Loss of color. Then blindness.
Right now, I'm in the night blindness stage with slipping periphery. I'm spending a hefty chunk of 2017 traveling all over the world to see famous sites, or less famous things that I have always wanted to take in. Examples include Scottish moors, ice caves, and the least light-polluted spots on the planet. Suggestions are welcome!
It's interesting to read your entries! | My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | This is just my actual life. It's called retinitis pigmentosa. I'm going to Iceland to look at stuff in April. I know this is violating the rules, or whatever, but I just can't not say something. Also nonfiction is subjective enough that some would argue there is no nonfiction, that all writing is interpretation, and that all that matters is whether the story is well written. So let's just admit nonfiction is still writing, and not take this down. Please.
The truth is the things I want to see most are not a sweeping landscape despite my current mission to go to Iceland and look at stuff.. The things I want to see the most are simple and mundane. I want to see my husband's face as he ages, my children's as they grow. I want to see as much of my family as I can before I can't anymore.
It isn't even that I will want to see them, it is that I want them to be seen. There is this incredible emotional need to see and be seen. I don't want them to ever feel like I don't see them.
It is silly to think that I need to physically see them in order to metaphorically see them... but in a weird way we do need that physicality, that immediacy, that connection.
One day I will wander the gallery of my mind, years after I can no longer see, and I will look at the faces of my family. The image will be faded and blurred, pieced together from small fractions of their faces that I glimpsed at in the last year's when my vision was a small pin prick of clarity in a swirl of blurred colors and shapes.
The last image is a collage hung in my heart and revisited impulsively, driven by a nagging physical need to SEE them, to know them as they are, the image shifting, morphing, fracturing and fraying...
And when I let that image go, when I stop feeling that last image to be a true image of them, stop needing it to be so, that moment will be the first moment when I will be truly blind, a true citizen of the sightless world. I will be a new self in a new world.
The last image will be an idea, a memory of a previous life, a previous me. | My wife understood my request, though my daughter was too young to understand.
After the Doc told me i had a year, we talked about me going to see the world. She agreed to it, on one condition of course: Three months.
It seemed like not enough time but she wouldn't budge on it, "First day of February I'm changing the locks" she said.
A little over a month is all I could make of it. I did get to see quite a bit of Europe; some cathedrals, stone henge, you know... The sights. But I had to cut my journey, my quest, short when I got to a museum in Italy, I had a moment of total blindness while looking at some statues. It came back after a few moments but I decided to call it quits and jump on a flight home.
After everything I never saw the perfect sight. Everything I saw left me wanting for something else. Nothing was what I expected to see, it was so very empty. Lifeless. My plane ride back home was a bitter journey, but the ocean was soft and beautiful, it eased my mood.
I woke from a nap when the plane landed but the darkness didn't leave when my eyes opened. Some of the flight attendants offered me assistance exiting the plane but my sight started coming back by the time they got me to the door. I thanked them and called a cab, looked at my wallet and memorized my bills just in case I went blind again before getting home. I didn't, but it never hurts when you carry around as much cash as I was (enough to get me through two more months).
I had the driver park around the corner so I could have a minute to steel myself at my failure. I paid the man and he went on his way.
Here I go now, to tell my wife my vision was fading faster than we thought and I still didn't see the perfect sight. My daughters bus pulled up to the house as I walked closer.
She got of the bus differently than normal, she usually runs straight to the door but no. She walked slowly, head hung and looking at her feet.
"I'm so sorry I left," I start to say, choking up knowing why she was sad. I did this to her. My words caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks; I couldn't tell you how long we stood there but it was too short and too long all at the same time.
She stood there, tears welling up in her bright blue eyes and falling around her smile. She ran to me, threw down her bag and ran. Every emotion I had was replaced with happiness and relief on that moment and I saw it. In the winking of that last little tunnel I saw it!
The sights I saw meant nothing. The places meant nothing. They were grand, beautiful and, in every sense of the word, incredible! But those places weren't home. Those paintings weren't family. Those things weren't perfect because I left perfection at home and now I see it more clear than I ever saw with my sight.
"Did you find it, Da? Is that why you are home?"
"I found it, sweetie," I said as the tears washed away my last sight, the wife standing in the doorway unsure of her own emotions. "I found it. I found it at the last possible minute and I'm glad I finally saw it."
Edit: Corrections. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's probably 7a.m. The bedroom ceiling is glowing faintly with curtain filtered sunlight. I miss watching the dust motes dance. But it's okay.
It's been 20 years since we sat with two mugs of coffee between us. I should have stolen more glances of you back then. But it's okay.
It's been 15 years since we finally got our own place and more than two mugs in the apartment. It was for just in case we have dinner guests. We hardly did. But it's okay.
It's been 10 years since we heard the doctor read out the result of my failing eyesight. We argued about traveling and you cried again. But it's okay.
It's been five years since we found Mollie, my guide dog, your second snuggle buddy. I'm starting to feel my way around our place a little more. But it's okay.
It's probably 8a.m. It's a weekend so you won't be up yet. Recently, you keep asking me what else I want to see. I've seen everything I want to see.
20 years ago. You were blushing so much. Mumbling and talking with your hands about your favourite bands because I asked. I watched you drink your hot matcha tea while I took smaller sips of my mocha on the second floor of the coffee shop.
15 years ago I saw your eyes stare at every inch of the walls, ceiling, floor before lying down and breathing out a small "it's perfect". We were giggly and bought too much kitchenware for just two people. I'll never tire of watching you cook in the small but cosy kitchen.
10 years ago I watched your hand tighten around mine at the doctor's office. I saw determination and recklessness on your face a month after when I came home to you sitting at the dining table with our passports. You teared up and said we should have gone years ago. The house was empty for five months.
5 years ago I watched you sign the papers for a new occupant in our small apartment, Mollie. Beautiful Mollie. More often than not, you'd be asleep with her on the couch after I step out of the shower. Everything illuminated by the TV screen looked like a coloured blur at this time.
It's probably 9a.m. I can't read the clock on the wall anymore. I can't make out the pattern on our blankets either. But I can feel you and it's okay. I must have moved too much. You turned around, said good morning. Gently, pulled me under your chin and fell asleep again.
I don't need to travel anymore. I don't need to stay up hoping I can see stars again. The perfect image has always been there. Soaked in sunlight, inches from my face. The one last perfect image I want to see has always been you. | Everyday, just a little more gray. The center of my vision fills with the void as my retinas succumb to my condition. Already unable to do some basic functions, finding beauty in the ever growing gray void becomes harder and harder. The blue I want to remember, the brown I can't forget. The beige color becomes more vivid as time progresses. The color red, will be my fondest memory.
Slowly I am reduced to my peripheral vision. Concentrating I can still see those colors. The painting I saw with my eyes, can only be done on a canvas in my mind now. Forever memorialized in my mind, this painting of mine. My eyes can still produce tears, show emotion, but long have they lost their ability to enjoy the painting I so love.
And so the darkness closes. The gray void has taken my sight. But not the memory, the picture, the painting, the beauty of my wife.
*this hits home, as I do suffer from this condition. My retina's blood vessels constantly swell and subside and gather scar tissue. take care of your eyes* |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's been about a year since the diagnosis. The doctors said it was incurable and it would rapidly progress. Luckily the doctor didn't know everything in this case. The initial estimate was that I'd be completely blind within a couple of weeks but, like I said...one year later and here we are.
After the diagnosis there were a lot of tears as to be expected, mostly from my mate...and myself...ok a lot from myself...shut up I can't help that I'm sensitive.
So about a week after it happened we decided to use the funds we'd saved up from working to go in search of what I called my "final sunrise" something that would stick with me for the rest of time. It started in London, we saw Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (a little too rich for my tastes but hey, to each their own), the Millennium Wheel was really cool, though being that high up gave me vertigo.
After London, we went north, to the land where my family hailed, Scotland! I got to see our family estate and got to show my mate around it. The air was so clear that day and the sky the purest blue. But still, that sunset escaped me. A month after the United Kingdom and we were off to Egypt for a pilgrimage to see the place where my and his faith were practiced in earnest millennia ago. By now my sight had begun to narrow but still, the Great Pyramids were as awe inspiring to me as they must have been to travelers all those era's ago.
Though we couldn't go everywhere we wanted, because of work, because of life, because of all those little moments. We still went on one last trip. My mate surprised me over dinner one evening in October, right around Halloween, he'd gotten two round trip tickets to Tokyo. Both of us being unapologetic fans of anime of all kinds, it was the magnum opus of our escapade around the world. Tokyo, Kyoto and the Great Shrine of Inari, and of course, the Hokkaido Fox Village. I got to pet one of those catdogs up close! Best. Day. EVER! I could just make out those derpy looks on their muzzles as they tried to steal my backpack.
So...did I ever find my sunset? I'm about to. This will probably be the last thing I see. I only have a few days left before it goes completely dark. This will most likely be my last time writing like this. So much for my career as a writer right? ah well. I'd go on a spiel about the best-laid plans and something deep like that as I'm often known to do, but as my best man just pointed out, I'm about to be late for my own wedding!
I don't know if anyone will ever read this diary thing besides me and Eric, but if you happen to stumble upon it take my advice: See the world as if it was the last time you'd be able to. Take in each color, each detail, absorb it and memorize it, you'll be glad you did later.
(So that's my first time ever posting here and the first time EVER publishing anything I've written online. I know, my grammar sucks.) | Everyday, just a little more gray. The center of my vision fills with the void as my retinas succumb to my condition. Already unable to do some basic functions, finding beauty in the ever growing gray void becomes harder and harder. The blue I want to remember, the brown I can't forget. The beige color becomes more vivid as time progresses. The color red, will be my fondest memory.
Slowly I am reduced to my peripheral vision. Concentrating I can still see those colors. The painting I saw with my eyes, can only be done on a canvas in my mind now. Forever memorialized in my mind, this painting of mine. My eyes can still produce tears, show emotion, but long have they lost their ability to enjoy the painting I so love.
And so the darkness closes. The gray void has taken my sight. But not the memory, the picture, the painting, the beauty of my wife.
*this hits home, as I do suffer from this condition. My retina's blood vessels constantly swell and subside and gather scar tissue. take care of your eyes* |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I've been saving this compliment for months now. It's nothing too special. Not a Magnum Opus by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll have the desired effect. My vision is nearing its end. I'm not scared. To some, blindness may be terrifying; however, I had a plan. We've taken measures to assure a long and comfortable life when it does finally go. Besides, I have her.
I'm sitting up in bed, an activity I'd seen much of recently, and contemplating my master plan. A flurry of emotion washes over me. It usually does when my mind becomes occupied with her. I panic momentarily, fearing the worst, but manage to bring myself to peace.
I hear footsteps on the landing below. Soft and muffled from the thick green carpet that covers both the tight, clumsy staircase and the attic which had become our bedroom. A movement draws what's left of my vision to the stairs as she hops up the last step.
Draped in her favourite oversized T-shirt, which dropped nearly down to her knees, she flops down next to me. Her beauty never did lie in elegance. Rather, it was her childlike glee and jumpiness that pulled the corners of my lips into a smile. Her imperfections brought her to life, just as they stole my heart the moment I laid my eyes on her. The same eyes that had little life left in them.
I turn over to her and whisper her name. She returns my gaze. "Yes?" she replies. "I have something very important to tell you." I say "You have a very special talent. Something nobody but you can ever do. You alone can make me smile and laugh and feel butterflies in my stomach when moments before I'd been sobbing like a lost child."
I examine her face, awaiting her response. She smiles, slowly at first, then a full grin. Her cheeks rise and she begins to squint, ever so slightly, showing her laugh lines in the corner of her eyes. She shies away from compliments, so her chin tilts downwards. Some loose strands of hair tumble forward and cast small shadows over her face. She's trying to hide, but doesn't break eye contact with me. Her big, brown doe eyes are easy to get lost in.
This adorable smile is one I've come to love. It encapsulates all of her beauty and proves her humbleness. Not knowing just how beautiful she is makes her even more beautiful in a sense. I close my eyes and lean in for a kiss. Our lips touch gently. Then, calmly and carefully, I rest my head in the crook of her neck. We lay together in tranquility, listening to the rise and fall of our chests and the beating of our hearts.
Sleep comes for me. As I feel myself losing consciousness, I recall the image of her shy smile and feel my own lips curl into a grin. My breathing slows and the light fades - forevermore. | Everyday, just a little more gray. The center of my vision fills with the void as my retinas succumb to my condition. Already unable to do some basic functions, finding beauty in the ever growing gray void becomes harder and harder. The blue I want to remember, the brown I can't forget. The beige color becomes more vivid as time progresses. The color red, will be my fondest memory.
Slowly I am reduced to my peripheral vision. Concentrating I can still see those colors. The painting I saw with my eyes, can only be done on a canvas in my mind now. Forever memorialized in my mind, this painting of mine. My eyes can still produce tears, show emotion, but long have they lost their ability to enjoy the painting I so love.
And so the darkness closes. The gray void has taken my sight. But not the memory, the picture, the painting, the beauty of my wife.
*this hits home, as I do suffer from this condition. My retina's blood vessels constantly swell and subside and gather scar tissue. take care of your eyes* |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | and as my vision starts to fade
i search tirelessly for the view
the one that i'll see for the rest of my days
the one that will still drive me through;
will it be a sunrise bright
set alight by stark contrast and hue
or maybe the forest on a summer morning
grass glittering with chilling dew;
i can fret as i may and believe what i like
for i never had thought that i knew
but from the second they told me i knew it quite well
i want to see always an image of you.
| Everyday, just a little more gray. The center of my vision fills with the void as my retinas succumb to my condition. Already unable to do some basic functions, finding beauty in the ever growing gray void becomes harder and harder. The blue I want to remember, the brown I can't forget. The beige color becomes more vivid as time progresses. The color red, will be my fondest memory.
Slowly I am reduced to my peripheral vision. Concentrating I can still see those colors. The painting I saw with my eyes, can only be done on a canvas in my mind now. Forever memorialized in my mind, this painting of mine. My eyes can still produce tears, show emotion, but long have they lost their ability to enjoy the painting I so love.
And so the darkness closes. The gray void has taken my sight. But not the memory, the picture, the painting, the beauty of my wife.
*this hits home, as I do suffer from this condition. My retina's blood vessels constantly swell and subside and gather scar tissue. take care of your eyes* |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | She took a step forward, her legs aching with years of experience. Her body was not what it once was, but she had used it well. The bruises, the scars, and even the wrinkles all had a story to tell. How she loved to tell them. Children listened intently, eyes open in awe to the sacrifices of the olden days. Those eyes, so much less scarred than hers.
Her eyes held a mysterious depth that absorbed attention with unsatiable hunger. No one could look at those eyes and come out unscathed. Not even her. The stories these told... And not a single word spoken. She saw empires rise and fall all over again everytime she stood in front of a mirror. She saw images of the Sunedeith War and the Seventh Revolution. She saw the dying embers of what once was her city. She still kept one small black stone from her home, stolen from the garden path of her grandmothers' house. A memento of times past and a reminder of continued survival. Her grandmother had survived the Red Eclipse. Her house was one of the few structures that survived the second fall of Bravor. Not that it mattered. Her grandmother had long ago left this realm. As for her, she never returned to that house. It was old and a painful reminder of war. Much like herself, it had seen too much.
People respected her in a way they would respect a God. They would see in her hope, strength, and guidance. They did not see humanity. She was their victories and failures. She was her ship and her soldiers. Even to the weapons they carried. She was reminder of war. The feared her. Not that she cared about any of it. She had fulfilled her role and now she wanted nothing more than to live as simply Selena.
And to the many children sitting in front of her, she was Selena, the storyteller. Children where the only ones who saw her as just another human. An old lady with bags of treats and stories. Stories their parents would never dare tell them. But oh did they need to know. Knowledge as such was hard to come by. Generations to come would find themselved lacking. And this was dangerous, she knew as much. These stories could not die with her.
She also knew, she had little time. The shakes had started. Her vision blurred day by day. Her field of vision growing small and pitiful. She had seen so much already, feeling she had seen too much of the world for it to matter. But she was wrong.
There was one more thing.
Her mother, as strong of a woman and fighter as she was, was also an lover. As a lover, she was an artist. It led to much suffering but her mother loved life, as dark as it was. She simply painted in darker colours. She always hid a little bit of brightness that you could only catch if you looked for it in the right light. However, it had all been lost in the Seventh Revolution. At least, that is what she believed, until Caleb gave her a box.
Caleb was an orphan of barely 13 years old. Smart as a whip, tough as the rock in her pocket. Like her mother, he was an artist too. He appreciated life the way younglings do, naive and resilient with a mind full of wonder. So much curiosity hidden in the depth of their mind, waiting to come out at a moments notice. When he was found in Aria 72, he held his one material posession close to his chest. At mere 4 years old he had survived the end of the world as he knew it only clutching a box full of dried paints and broken brushes. A strange posession for a boy so young found in the remnants of a T-2378z. But he kept the box close, insisting on becoming the first artist of the New World. His father, a surgeon, had once told him that a world without art was only a skeleton of civilization.
Caleb took his mission with pride, discovering colours even in the solid grey walls of the New Aria settlement. He painted with a passion and precision his father would proud of. Selena had never once seen his work. Caleb always painted in secret.
With expecting eyes and a whispered thank you, he handed her a simple brown box. Inside, a treasure no one but Caleb had seen. A treasure so precious, it would be first shared between them. She knew she wouldn't be able to appreciate every detail, not that it mattered. She opened the box and her world exploded in colour. Even in the blurrines of her sight she would recognise her home anywhere. Selena clutched the rock in her posession close to her chest and smiled, looking up to Caleb. Such a beautiful boy, he reminded her so much of her father. Caleb had given her the most beautiful gift. He had given Selena her home. So she gave him one of his own. As Caleb held the rock in his hand, she looked at his face and the world around her disappeared. But she was not alone. Caleb held her hand and hugged her. No, she was not alone. She had a new family now.
Sorry for formatting or mistakes. English is not my first language and I used my phone to type. Feedback welcome. Enjoy! | Everyday, just a little more gray. The center of my vision fills with the void as my retinas succumb to my condition. Already unable to do some basic functions, finding beauty in the ever growing gray void becomes harder and harder. The blue I want to remember, the brown I can't forget. The beige color becomes more vivid as time progresses. The color red, will be my fondest memory.
Slowly I am reduced to my peripheral vision. Concentrating I can still see those colors. The painting I saw with my eyes, can only be done on a canvas in my mind now. Forever memorialized in my mind, this painting of mine. My eyes can still produce tears, show emotion, but long have they lost their ability to enjoy the painting I so love.
And so the darkness closes. The gray void has taken my sight. But not the memory, the picture, the painting, the beauty of my wife.
*this hits home, as I do suffer from this condition. My retina's blood vessels constantly swell and subside and gather scar tissue. take care of your eyes* |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | “There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”
I always hated that quote. I preferred “There’s always a silver lining.” Since it wasn’t so literal for me.
Being blind kind of sucked.
Right, where was I? Oh yes, hating stuff.
I hated that ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ quote. It was because of my condition where my vision slowly shrank, I don’t remember the technical term but most folks call it ‘Tunnel Vision’.
Really hate that.
So I figure I should go out with one last hurrah!
Most folks who are about to be married usually go out to a strip club.
People who are about to die do whatever the hell they want.
I was going to go blind so I figured I’d go find the best looking thing out there and engrave it into my brain that I’d never forget. Problem is, I had no idea what I was looking for.
I hated that feeling of being lost.
But I had money and I had plenty of time so I travelled the world.
Mountains looked nice enough but I was too cold to appreciate them.
Monuments were impressive but they never really lived up to the hype.
Hell I’ve thrown money at dozens of prostitutes just to see a bunch of girls all over me.
My wife really hated that.
Didn’t surprise me that she left.
Honestly it wasn’t even the prostitutes that got her. It was the fact that I spent years away from her looking for the last perfect image.
Well, I’m an idiot. I know that now. I should’ve stayed with her, been there with her. She was that perfect image, the one thing engraved into my head that I’d never forget.
I don’t even care if I’m blind anymore. I’d give up all my senses just to be with her, hell I’d even give up seeing her if I had that chance.
But now it was too late.
I have Tunnel Vision.
And I hate it.
| Everyday, just a little more gray. The center of my vision fills with the void as my retinas succumb to my condition. Already unable to do some basic functions, finding beauty in the ever growing gray void becomes harder and harder. The blue I want to remember, the brown I can't forget. The beige color becomes more vivid as time progresses. The color red, will be my fondest memory.
Slowly I am reduced to my peripheral vision. Concentrating I can still see those colors. The painting I saw with my eyes, can only be done on a canvas in my mind now. Forever memorialized in my mind, this painting of mine. My eyes can still produce tears, show emotion, but long have they lost their ability to enjoy the painting I so love.
And so the darkness closes. The gray void has taken my sight. But not the memory, the picture, the painting, the beauty of my wife.
*this hits home, as I do suffer from this condition. My retina's blood vessels constantly swell and subside and gather scar tissue. take care of your eyes* |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Katie sighed, blowing hair out of her eyes.
"It's 4:30 AM, Max. The flight's at 6. Do we really need to go now?"
"Yes," I explained, "if I miss this flight and spend my last day of sight in Jacksonville, I'm never gonna let myself forget it."
She smiled.
"Well, it's good to see you at least happy to go to new places."
We got onto the plane with me only falling over a couple times. Katie had gotten pretty good at knowing when I'd trip, and catching me when I did. Having a best friend as good as her never failed to make me smile, even in the early days of the disease when I ate pavement several times a day. Hand always out to help me up, she was one of the few friends I had who'd stuck with me through this hell. She and I had travelled across the globe, looking at various monuments and religious shrines, hoping we'd find something I'd be content to watch as my vision disappeared forever.
Setting up camp in California was easy. I'd pitched enough tents and unrolled enough sleeping bags as a kid that I could do it with my eyes closed. The problem wasn't that. The problem was that I still felt unsatisfied- I didn't feel ready to give up my vision yet, I didn't feel like I'd seen The Perfect Sight. Katie came up on my left. She studied my face for a brief moment.
"Still not it, huh?"
We sat, leaning against a massive tree.
"I just... all this shit we've seen is so cool, y'know? I love it, and I love seeing it with my best friend in the world. It's just that it doesn't *mean* anything to me. I don't have any memories of those wonderful places. I don't feel a connection to them."
"I get that. I'm sorry, Max. I tried to find places for you, places you would like. I guess I just didn't try hard enough..."
Her voice trailed off as she looked down.
"No! No. Katie, you did way more than you had to, way more than I could've ever asked of you. You've been absolutely perfect."
With those last words, the hints of a smile took hold in her face, and something clicked in my brain.
Maybe it was seeing, through permanent tunnel-vision, the way the sun caught her eyes just right and glinted off her golden-brown hair. Maybe it was the way she squeezed my hand when I slipped it into hers. Maybe it was just realizing that the sight I had been looking for had been traveling alongside me for months, and that I was deeply, deeply in love with her.
Whatever it was, I was finally satisfied as the gray closed over her beautiful face, marking the last thing I ever saw. | Everyday, just a little more gray. The center of my vision fills with the void as my retinas succumb to my condition. Already unable to do some basic functions, finding beauty in the ever growing gray void becomes harder and harder. The blue I want to remember, the brown I can't forget. The beige color becomes more vivid as time progresses. The color red, will be my fondest memory.
Slowly I am reduced to my peripheral vision. Concentrating I can still see those colors. The painting I saw with my eyes, can only be done on a canvas in my mind now. Forever memorialized in my mind, this painting of mine. My eyes can still produce tears, show emotion, but long have they lost their ability to enjoy the painting I so love.
And so the darkness closes. The gray void has taken my sight. But not the memory, the picture, the painting, the beauty of my wife.
*this hits home, as I do suffer from this condition. My retina's blood vessels constantly swell and subside and gather scar tissue. take care of your eyes* |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I know I'm too late to get any traction here, but I had to speak up: this is my actual situation.
I have a rare genetic disorder called *retinitis pigmentosa*. It starts with night blindness and compromised peripheral vision. Then comes tunnel vision. Loss of color. Then blindness.
Right now, I'm in the night blindness stage with slipping periphery. I'm spending a hefty chunk of 2017 traveling all over the world to see famous sites, or less famous things that I have always wanted to take in. Examples include Scottish moors, ice caves, and the least light-polluted spots on the planet. Suggestions are welcome!
It's interesting to read your entries! | Everyday, just a little more gray. The center of my vision fills with the void as my retinas succumb to my condition. Already unable to do some basic functions, finding beauty in the ever growing gray void becomes harder and harder. The blue I want to remember, the brown I can't forget. The beige color becomes more vivid as time progresses. The color red, will be my fondest memory.
Slowly I am reduced to my peripheral vision. Concentrating I can still see those colors. The painting I saw with my eyes, can only be done on a canvas in my mind now. Forever memorialized in my mind, this painting of mine. My eyes can still produce tears, show emotion, but long have they lost their ability to enjoy the painting I so love.
And so the darkness closes. The gray void has taken my sight. But not the memory, the picture, the painting, the beauty of my wife.
*this hits home, as I do suffer from this condition. My retina's blood vessels constantly swell and subside and gather scar tissue. take care of your eyes* |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | This is just my actual life. It's called retinitis pigmentosa. I'm going to Iceland to look at stuff in April. I know this is violating the rules, or whatever, but I just can't not say something. Also nonfiction is subjective enough that some would argue there is no nonfiction, that all writing is interpretation, and that all that matters is whether the story is well written. So let's just admit nonfiction is still writing, and not take this down. Please.
The truth is the things I want to see most are not a sweeping landscape despite my current mission to go to Iceland and look at stuff.. The things I want to see the most are simple and mundane. I want to see my husband's face as he ages, my children's as they grow. I want to see as much of my family as I can before I can't anymore.
It isn't even that I will want to see them, it is that I want them to be seen. There is this incredible emotional need to see and be seen. I don't want them to ever feel like I don't see them.
It is silly to think that I need to physically see them in order to metaphorically see them... but in a weird way we do need that physicality, that immediacy, that connection.
One day I will wander the gallery of my mind, years after I can no longer see, and I will look at the faces of my family. The image will be faded and blurred, pieced together from small fractions of their faces that I glimpsed at in the last year's when my vision was a small pin prick of clarity in a swirl of blurred colors and shapes.
The last image is a collage hung in my heart and revisited impulsively, driven by a nagging physical need to SEE them, to know them as they are, the image shifting, morphing, fracturing and fraying...
And when I let that image go, when I stop feeling that last image to be a true image of them, stop needing it to be so, that moment will be the first moment when I will be truly blind, a true citizen of the sightless world. I will be a new self in a new world.
The last image will be an idea, a memory of a previous life, a previous me. | Everyday, just a little more gray. The center of my vision fills with the void as my retinas succumb to my condition. Already unable to do some basic functions, finding beauty in the ever growing gray void becomes harder and harder. The blue I want to remember, the brown I can't forget. The beige color becomes more vivid as time progresses. The color red, will be my fondest memory.
Slowly I am reduced to my peripheral vision. Concentrating I can still see those colors. The painting I saw with my eyes, can only be done on a canvas in my mind now. Forever memorialized in my mind, this painting of mine. My eyes can still produce tears, show emotion, but long have they lost their ability to enjoy the painting I so love.
And so the darkness closes. The gray void has taken my sight. But not the memory, the picture, the painting, the beauty of my wife.
*this hits home, as I do suffer from this condition. My retina's blood vessels constantly swell and subside and gather scar tissue. take care of your eyes* |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's probably 7a.m. The bedroom ceiling is glowing faintly with curtain filtered sunlight. I miss watching the dust motes dance. But it's okay.
It's been 20 years since we sat with two mugs of coffee between us. I should have stolen more glances of you back then. But it's okay.
It's been 15 years since we finally got our own place and more than two mugs in the apartment. It was for just in case we have dinner guests. We hardly did. But it's okay.
It's been 10 years since we heard the doctor read out the result of my failing eyesight. We argued about traveling and you cried again. But it's okay.
It's been five years since we found Mollie, my guide dog, your second snuggle buddy. I'm starting to feel my way around our place a little more. But it's okay.
It's probably 8a.m. It's a weekend so you won't be up yet. Recently, you keep asking me what else I want to see. I've seen everything I want to see.
20 years ago. You were blushing so much. Mumbling and talking with your hands about your favourite bands because I asked. I watched you drink your hot matcha tea while I took smaller sips of my mocha on the second floor of the coffee shop.
15 years ago I saw your eyes stare at every inch of the walls, ceiling, floor before lying down and breathing out a small "it's perfect". We were giggly and bought too much kitchenware for just two people. I'll never tire of watching you cook in the small but cosy kitchen.
10 years ago I watched your hand tighten around mine at the doctor's office. I saw determination and recklessness on your face a month after when I came home to you sitting at the dining table with our passports. You teared up and said we should have gone years ago. The house was empty for five months.
5 years ago I watched you sign the papers for a new occupant in our small apartment, Mollie. Beautiful Mollie. More often than not, you'd be asleep with her on the couch after I step out of the shower. Everything illuminated by the TV screen looked like a coloured blur at this time.
It's probably 9a.m. I can't read the clock on the wall anymore. I can't make out the pattern on our blankets either. But I can feel you and it's okay. I must have moved too much. You turned around, said good morning. Gently, pulled me under your chin and fell asleep again.
I don't need to travel anymore. I don't need to stay up hoping I can see stars again. The perfect image has always been there. Soaked in sunlight, inches from my face. The one last perfect image I want to see has always been you. | "So what can I do? They don't make the lenses anymore?"
"They only work with glass, and nobody ..."
The doctor took a step fieldward and continued. "... nobody makes them anymore. I've read about them in textbooks, but that's about it."
"And that's the only thing that works?"
"It'll buy you a couple of years, ten at most."
It had a name, sent to the asterisk sections of obscure ophthalmological textbooks in libraries housed in Universities where nobody went, in countries where nobody visited. The books I wanted had been thrown out so I went to the dump with the customer number. Wild dogs and children got closer than they would have dared but I couldn't see them. They seemed to know.
Digging.
One got my dummy wallet. I was blind but I wasn't stupid.
Months.
A group knocked me down and stole my shoes. They cheered as they ran away. I didn't see them again.
I found it. It was junk. Junk in the dump. The letters matched but it couldn't be right. These were all sunglass lens samples. Under one of them the name matched. It's what my doctor called it. At least I think it was.
I took the book and the sample to an old optician in a dirty alley. I knew a chain store wouldn't have the equipment. My only hope would be someone that hadn't bought anything new in fifty years, or maybe someone that had an old machine that was kept as decoration.
The store was dark, at least from what I could tell. The owner, probably a man, asked me what I wanted. I pointed at the lens above my disease. He shook his head but I didn't see it. When I didn't react, he nodded and said, "I. will. try."
I waited in the store while old machines clanked back to life. After a lifetime in the dark of the store, he brought me a pair of glasses. They were heavy. The lenses were thick and the colour of double-cherry cough drops.
What the hell did I buy?
Everything was bright red. I looked down at the receipt, an amount I didn't understand in a language I couldn't read. A few words went blurry as I handed my credit card to the man that made these cherry-red glasses. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's been about a year since the diagnosis. The doctors said it was incurable and it would rapidly progress. Luckily the doctor didn't know everything in this case. The initial estimate was that I'd be completely blind within a couple of weeks but, like I said...one year later and here we are.
After the diagnosis there were a lot of tears as to be expected, mostly from my mate...and myself...ok a lot from myself...shut up I can't help that I'm sensitive.
So about a week after it happened we decided to use the funds we'd saved up from working to go in search of what I called my "final sunrise" something that would stick with me for the rest of time. It started in London, we saw Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (a little too rich for my tastes but hey, to each their own), the Millennium Wheel was really cool, though being that high up gave me vertigo.
After London, we went north, to the land where my family hailed, Scotland! I got to see our family estate and got to show my mate around it. The air was so clear that day and the sky the purest blue. But still, that sunset escaped me. A month after the United Kingdom and we were off to Egypt for a pilgrimage to see the place where my and his faith were practiced in earnest millennia ago. By now my sight had begun to narrow but still, the Great Pyramids were as awe inspiring to me as they must have been to travelers all those era's ago.
Though we couldn't go everywhere we wanted, because of work, because of life, because of all those little moments. We still went on one last trip. My mate surprised me over dinner one evening in October, right around Halloween, he'd gotten two round trip tickets to Tokyo. Both of us being unapologetic fans of anime of all kinds, it was the magnum opus of our escapade around the world. Tokyo, Kyoto and the Great Shrine of Inari, and of course, the Hokkaido Fox Village. I got to pet one of those catdogs up close! Best. Day. EVER! I could just make out those derpy looks on their muzzles as they tried to steal my backpack.
So...did I ever find my sunset? I'm about to. This will probably be the last thing I see. I only have a few days left before it goes completely dark. This will most likely be my last time writing like this. So much for my career as a writer right? ah well. I'd go on a spiel about the best-laid plans and something deep like that as I'm often known to do, but as my best man just pointed out, I'm about to be late for my own wedding!
I don't know if anyone will ever read this diary thing besides me and Eric, but if you happen to stumble upon it take my advice: See the world as if it was the last time you'd be able to. Take in each color, each detail, absorb it and memorize it, you'll be glad you did later.
(So that's my first time ever posting here and the first time EVER publishing anything I've written online. I know, my grammar sucks.) | "So what can I do? They don't make the lenses anymore?"
"They only work with glass, and nobody ..."
The doctor took a step fieldward and continued. "... nobody makes them anymore. I've read about them in textbooks, but that's about it."
"And that's the only thing that works?"
"It'll buy you a couple of years, ten at most."
It had a name, sent to the asterisk sections of obscure ophthalmological textbooks in libraries housed in Universities where nobody went, in countries where nobody visited. The books I wanted had been thrown out so I went to the dump with the customer number. Wild dogs and children got closer than they would have dared but I couldn't see them. They seemed to know.
Digging.
One got my dummy wallet. I was blind but I wasn't stupid.
Months.
A group knocked me down and stole my shoes. They cheered as they ran away. I didn't see them again.
I found it. It was junk. Junk in the dump. The letters matched but it couldn't be right. These were all sunglass lens samples. Under one of them the name matched. It's what my doctor called it. At least I think it was.
I took the book and the sample to an old optician in a dirty alley. I knew a chain store wouldn't have the equipment. My only hope would be someone that hadn't bought anything new in fifty years, or maybe someone that had an old machine that was kept as decoration.
The store was dark, at least from what I could tell. The owner, probably a man, asked me what I wanted. I pointed at the lens above my disease. He shook his head but I didn't see it. When I didn't react, he nodded and said, "I. will. try."
I waited in the store while old machines clanked back to life. After a lifetime in the dark of the store, he brought me a pair of glasses. They were heavy. The lenses were thick and the colour of double-cherry cough drops.
What the hell did I buy?
Everything was bright red. I looked down at the receipt, an amount I didn't understand in a language I couldn't read. A few words went blurry as I handed my credit card to the man that made these cherry-red glasses. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I've been saving this compliment for months now. It's nothing too special. Not a Magnum Opus by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll have the desired effect. My vision is nearing its end. I'm not scared. To some, blindness may be terrifying; however, I had a plan. We've taken measures to assure a long and comfortable life when it does finally go. Besides, I have her.
I'm sitting up in bed, an activity I'd seen much of recently, and contemplating my master plan. A flurry of emotion washes over me. It usually does when my mind becomes occupied with her. I panic momentarily, fearing the worst, but manage to bring myself to peace.
I hear footsteps on the landing below. Soft and muffled from the thick green carpet that covers both the tight, clumsy staircase and the attic which had become our bedroom. A movement draws what's left of my vision to the stairs as she hops up the last step.
Draped in her favourite oversized T-shirt, which dropped nearly down to her knees, she flops down next to me. Her beauty never did lie in elegance. Rather, it was her childlike glee and jumpiness that pulled the corners of my lips into a smile. Her imperfections brought her to life, just as they stole my heart the moment I laid my eyes on her. The same eyes that had little life left in them.
I turn over to her and whisper her name. She returns my gaze. "Yes?" she replies. "I have something very important to tell you." I say "You have a very special talent. Something nobody but you can ever do. You alone can make me smile and laugh and feel butterflies in my stomach when moments before I'd been sobbing like a lost child."
I examine her face, awaiting her response. She smiles, slowly at first, then a full grin. Her cheeks rise and she begins to squint, ever so slightly, showing her laugh lines in the corner of her eyes. She shies away from compliments, so her chin tilts downwards. Some loose strands of hair tumble forward and cast small shadows over her face. She's trying to hide, but doesn't break eye contact with me. Her big, brown doe eyes are easy to get lost in.
This adorable smile is one I've come to love. It encapsulates all of her beauty and proves her humbleness. Not knowing just how beautiful she is makes her even more beautiful in a sense. I close my eyes and lean in for a kiss. Our lips touch gently. Then, calmly and carefully, I rest my head in the crook of her neck. We lay together in tranquility, listening to the rise and fall of our chests and the beating of our hearts.
Sleep comes for me. As I feel myself losing consciousness, I recall the image of her shy smile and feel my own lips curl into a grin. My breathing slows and the light fades - forevermore. | "So what can I do? They don't make the lenses anymore?"
"They only work with glass, and nobody ..."
The doctor took a step fieldward and continued. "... nobody makes them anymore. I've read about them in textbooks, but that's about it."
"And that's the only thing that works?"
"It'll buy you a couple of years, ten at most."
It had a name, sent to the asterisk sections of obscure ophthalmological textbooks in libraries housed in Universities where nobody went, in countries where nobody visited. The books I wanted had been thrown out so I went to the dump with the customer number. Wild dogs and children got closer than they would have dared but I couldn't see them. They seemed to know.
Digging.
One got my dummy wallet. I was blind but I wasn't stupid.
Months.
A group knocked me down and stole my shoes. They cheered as they ran away. I didn't see them again.
I found it. It was junk. Junk in the dump. The letters matched but it couldn't be right. These were all sunglass lens samples. Under one of them the name matched. It's what my doctor called it. At least I think it was.
I took the book and the sample to an old optician in a dirty alley. I knew a chain store wouldn't have the equipment. My only hope would be someone that hadn't bought anything new in fifty years, or maybe someone that had an old machine that was kept as decoration.
The store was dark, at least from what I could tell. The owner, probably a man, asked me what I wanted. I pointed at the lens above my disease. He shook his head but I didn't see it. When I didn't react, he nodded and said, "I. will. try."
I waited in the store while old machines clanked back to life. After a lifetime in the dark of the store, he brought me a pair of glasses. They were heavy. The lenses were thick and the colour of double-cherry cough drops.
What the hell did I buy?
Everything was bright red. I looked down at the receipt, an amount I didn't understand in a language I couldn't read. A few words went blurry as I handed my credit card to the man that made these cherry-red glasses. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | and as my vision starts to fade
i search tirelessly for the view
the one that i'll see for the rest of my days
the one that will still drive me through;
will it be a sunrise bright
set alight by stark contrast and hue
or maybe the forest on a summer morning
grass glittering with chilling dew;
i can fret as i may and believe what i like
for i never had thought that i knew
but from the second they told me i knew it quite well
i want to see always an image of you.
| "So what can I do? They don't make the lenses anymore?"
"They only work with glass, and nobody ..."
The doctor took a step fieldward and continued. "... nobody makes them anymore. I've read about them in textbooks, but that's about it."
"And that's the only thing that works?"
"It'll buy you a couple of years, ten at most."
It had a name, sent to the asterisk sections of obscure ophthalmological textbooks in libraries housed in Universities where nobody went, in countries where nobody visited. The books I wanted had been thrown out so I went to the dump with the customer number. Wild dogs and children got closer than they would have dared but I couldn't see them. They seemed to know.
Digging.
One got my dummy wallet. I was blind but I wasn't stupid.
Months.
A group knocked me down and stole my shoes. They cheered as they ran away. I didn't see them again.
I found it. It was junk. Junk in the dump. The letters matched but it couldn't be right. These were all sunglass lens samples. Under one of them the name matched. It's what my doctor called it. At least I think it was.
I took the book and the sample to an old optician in a dirty alley. I knew a chain store wouldn't have the equipment. My only hope would be someone that hadn't bought anything new in fifty years, or maybe someone that had an old machine that was kept as decoration.
The store was dark, at least from what I could tell. The owner, probably a man, asked me what I wanted. I pointed at the lens above my disease. He shook his head but I didn't see it. When I didn't react, he nodded and said, "I. will. try."
I waited in the store while old machines clanked back to life. After a lifetime in the dark of the store, he brought me a pair of glasses. They were heavy. The lenses were thick and the colour of double-cherry cough drops.
What the hell did I buy?
Everything was bright red. I looked down at the receipt, an amount I didn't understand in a language I couldn't read. A few words went blurry as I handed my credit card to the man that made these cherry-red glasses. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | She took a step forward, her legs aching with years of experience. Her body was not what it once was, but she had used it well. The bruises, the scars, and even the wrinkles all had a story to tell. How she loved to tell them. Children listened intently, eyes open in awe to the sacrifices of the olden days. Those eyes, so much less scarred than hers.
Her eyes held a mysterious depth that absorbed attention with unsatiable hunger. No one could look at those eyes and come out unscathed. Not even her. The stories these told... And not a single word spoken. She saw empires rise and fall all over again everytime she stood in front of a mirror. She saw images of the Sunedeith War and the Seventh Revolution. She saw the dying embers of what once was her city. She still kept one small black stone from her home, stolen from the garden path of her grandmothers' house. A memento of times past and a reminder of continued survival. Her grandmother had survived the Red Eclipse. Her house was one of the few structures that survived the second fall of Bravor. Not that it mattered. Her grandmother had long ago left this realm. As for her, she never returned to that house. It was old and a painful reminder of war. Much like herself, it had seen too much.
People respected her in a way they would respect a God. They would see in her hope, strength, and guidance. They did not see humanity. She was their victories and failures. She was her ship and her soldiers. Even to the weapons they carried. She was reminder of war. The feared her. Not that she cared about any of it. She had fulfilled her role and now she wanted nothing more than to live as simply Selena.
And to the many children sitting in front of her, she was Selena, the storyteller. Children where the only ones who saw her as just another human. An old lady with bags of treats and stories. Stories their parents would never dare tell them. But oh did they need to know. Knowledge as such was hard to come by. Generations to come would find themselved lacking. And this was dangerous, she knew as much. These stories could not die with her.
She also knew, she had little time. The shakes had started. Her vision blurred day by day. Her field of vision growing small and pitiful. She had seen so much already, feeling she had seen too much of the world for it to matter. But she was wrong.
There was one more thing.
Her mother, as strong of a woman and fighter as she was, was also an lover. As a lover, she was an artist. It led to much suffering but her mother loved life, as dark as it was. She simply painted in darker colours. She always hid a little bit of brightness that you could only catch if you looked for it in the right light. However, it had all been lost in the Seventh Revolution. At least, that is what she believed, until Caleb gave her a box.
Caleb was an orphan of barely 13 years old. Smart as a whip, tough as the rock in her pocket. Like her mother, he was an artist too. He appreciated life the way younglings do, naive and resilient with a mind full of wonder. So much curiosity hidden in the depth of their mind, waiting to come out at a moments notice. When he was found in Aria 72, he held his one material posession close to his chest. At mere 4 years old he had survived the end of the world as he knew it only clutching a box full of dried paints and broken brushes. A strange posession for a boy so young found in the remnants of a T-2378z. But he kept the box close, insisting on becoming the first artist of the New World. His father, a surgeon, had once told him that a world without art was only a skeleton of civilization.
Caleb took his mission with pride, discovering colours even in the solid grey walls of the New Aria settlement. He painted with a passion and precision his father would proud of. Selena had never once seen his work. Caleb always painted in secret.
With expecting eyes and a whispered thank you, he handed her a simple brown box. Inside, a treasure no one but Caleb had seen. A treasure so precious, it would be first shared between them. She knew she wouldn't be able to appreciate every detail, not that it mattered. She opened the box and her world exploded in colour. Even in the blurrines of her sight she would recognise her home anywhere. Selena clutched the rock in her posession close to her chest and smiled, looking up to Caleb. Such a beautiful boy, he reminded her so much of her father. Caleb had given her the most beautiful gift. He had given Selena her home. So she gave him one of his own. As Caleb held the rock in his hand, she looked at his face and the world around her disappeared. But she was not alone. Caleb held her hand and hugged her. No, she was not alone. She had a new family now.
Sorry for formatting or mistakes. English is not my first language and I used my phone to type. Feedback welcome. Enjoy! | "So what can I do? They don't make the lenses anymore?"
"They only work with glass, and nobody ..."
The doctor took a step fieldward and continued. "... nobody makes them anymore. I've read about them in textbooks, but that's about it."
"And that's the only thing that works?"
"It'll buy you a couple of years, ten at most."
It had a name, sent to the asterisk sections of obscure ophthalmological textbooks in libraries housed in Universities where nobody went, in countries where nobody visited. The books I wanted had been thrown out so I went to the dump with the customer number. Wild dogs and children got closer than they would have dared but I couldn't see them. They seemed to know.
Digging.
One got my dummy wallet. I was blind but I wasn't stupid.
Months.
A group knocked me down and stole my shoes. They cheered as they ran away. I didn't see them again.
I found it. It was junk. Junk in the dump. The letters matched but it couldn't be right. These were all sunglass lens samples. Under one of them the name matched. It's what my doctor called it. At least I think it was.
I took the book and the sample to an old optician in a dirty alley. I knew a chain store wouldn't have the equipment. My only hope would be someone that hadn't bought anything new in fifty years, or maybe someone that had an old machine that was kept as decoration.
The store was dark, at least from what I could tell. The owner, probably a man, asked me what I wanted. I pointed at the lens above my disease. He shook his head but I didn't see it. When I didn't react, he nodded and said, "I. will. try."
I waited in the store while old machines clanked back to life. After a lifetime in the dark of the store, he brought me a pair of glasses. They were heavy. The lenses were thick and the colour of double-cherry cough drops.
What the hell did I buy?
Everything was bright red. I looked down at the receipt, an amount I didn't understand in a language I couldn't read. A few words went blurry as I handed my credit card to the man that made these cherry-red glasses. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | “There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”
I always hated that quote. I preferred “There’s always a silver lining.” Since it wasn’t so literal for me.
Being blind kind of sucked.
Right, where was I? Oh yes, hating stuff.
I hated that ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ quote. It was because of my condition where my vision slowly shrank, I don’t remember the technical term but most folks call it ‘Tunnel Vision’.
Really hate that.
So I figure I should go out with one last hurrah!
Most folks who are about to be married usually go out to a strip club.
People who are about to die do whatever the hell they want.
I was going to go blind so I figured I’d go find the best looking thing out there and engrave it into my brain that I’d never forget. Problem is, I had no idea what I was looking for.
I hated that feeling of being lost.
But I had money and I had plenty of time so I travelled the world.
Mountains looked nice enough but I was too cold to appreciate them.
Monuments were impressive but they never really lived up to the hype.
Hell I’ve thrown money at dozens of prostitutes just to see a bunch of girls all over me.
My wife really hated that.
Didn’t surprise me that she left.
Honestly it wasn’t even the prostitutes that got her. It was the fact that I spent years away from her looking for the last perfect image.
Well, I’m an idiot. I know that now. I should’ve stayed with her, been there with her. She was that perfect image, the one thing engraved into my head that I’d never forget.
I don’t even care if I’m blind anymore. I’d give up all my senses just to be with her, hell I’d even give up seeing her if I had that chance.
But now it was too late.
I have Tunnel Vision.
And I hate it.
| "So what can I do? They don't make the lenses anymore?"
"They only work with glass, and nobody ..."
The doctor took a step fieldward and continued. "... nobody makes them anymore. I've read about them in textbooks, but that's about it."
"And that's the only thing that works?"
"It'll buy you a couple of years, ten at most."
It had a name, sent to the asterisk sections of obscure ophthalmological textbooks in libraries housed in Universities where nobody went, in countries where nobody visited. The books I wanted had been thrown out so I went to the dump with the customer number. Wild dogs and children got closer than they would have dared but I couldn't see them. They seemed to know.
Digging.
One got my dummy wallet. I was blind but I wasn't stupid.
Months.
A group knocked me down and stole my shoes. They cheered as they ran away. I didn't see them again.
I found it. It was junk. Junk in the dump. The letters matched but it couldn't be right. These were all sunglass lens samples. Under one of them the name matched. It's what my doctor called it. At least I think it was.
I took the book and the sample to an old optician in a dirty alley. I knew a chain store wouldn't have the equipment. My only hope would be someone that hadn't bought anything new in fifty years, or maybe someone that had an old machine that was kept as decoration.
The store was dark, at least from what I could tell. The owner, probably a man, asked me what I wanted. I pointed at the lens above my disease. He shook his head but I didn't see it. When I didn't react, he nodded and said, "I. will. try."
I waited in the store while old machines clanked back to life. After a lifetime in the dark of the store, he brought me a pair of glasses. They were heavy. The lenses were thick and the colour of double-cherry cough drops.
What the hell did I buy?
Everything was bright red. I looked down at the receipt, an amount I didn't understand in a language I couldn't read. A few words went blurry as I handed my credit card to the man that made these cherry-red glasses. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | Katie sighed, blowing hair out of her eyes.
"It's 4:30 AM, Max. The flight's at 6. Do we really need to go now?"
"Yes," I explained, "if I miss this flight and spend my last day of sight in Jacksonville, I'm never gonna let myself forget it."
She smiled.
"Well, it's good to see you at least happy to go to new places."
We got onto the plane with me only falling over a couple times. Katie had gotten pretty good at knowing when I'd trip, and catching me when I did. Having a best friend as good as her never failed to make me smile, even in the early days of the disease when I ate pavement several times a day. Hand always out to help me up, she was one of the few friends I had who'd stuck with me through this hell. She and I had travelled across the globe, looking at various monuments and religious shrines, hoping we'd find something I'd be content to watch as my vision disappeared forever.
Setting up camp in California was easy. I'd pitched enough tents and unrolled enough sleeping bags as a kid that I could do it with my eyes closed. The problem wasn't that. The problem was that I still felt unsatisfied- I didn't feel ready to give up my vision yet, I didn't feel like I'd seen The Perfect Sight. Katie came up on my left. She studied my face for a brief moment.
"Still not it, huh?"
We sat, leaning against a massive tree.
"I just... all this shit we've seen is so cool, y'know? I love it, and I love seeing it with my best friend in the world. It's just that it doesn't *mean* anything to me. I don't have any memories of those wonderful places. I don't feel a connection to them."
"I get that. I'm sorry, Max. I tried to find places for you, places you would like. I guess I just didn't try hard enough..."
Her voice trailed off as she looked down.
"No! No. Katie, you did way more than you had to, way more than I could've ever asked of you. You've been absolutely perfect."
With those last words, the hints of a smile took hold in her face, and something clicked in my brain.
Maybe it was seeing, through permanent tunnel-vision, the way the sun caught her eyes just right and glinted off her golden-brown hair. Maybe it was the way she squeezed my hand when I slipped it into hers. Maybe it was just realizing that the sight I had been looking for had been traveling alongside me for months, and that I was deeply, deeply in love with her.
Whatever it was, I was finally satisfied as the gray closed over her beautiful face, marking the last thing I ever saw. | "So what can I do? They don't make the lenses anymore?"
"They only work with glass, and nobody ..."
The doctor took a step fieldward and continued. "... nobody makes them anymore. I've read about them in textbooks, but that's about it."
"And that's the only thing that works?"
"It'll buy you a couple of years, ten at most."
It had a name, sent to the asterisk sections of obscure ophthalmological textbooks in libraries housed in Universities where nobody went, in countries where nobody visited. The books I wanted had been thrown out so I went to the dump with the customer number. Wild dogs and children got closer than they would have dared but I couldn't see them. They seemed to know.
Digging.
One got my dummy wallet. I was blind but I wasn't stupid.
Months.
A group knocked me down and stole my shoes. They cheered as they ran away. I didn't see them again.
I found it. It was junk. Junk in the dump. The letters matched but it couldn't be right. These were all sunglass lens samples. Under one of them the name matched. It's what my doctor called it. At least I think it was.
I took the book and the sample to an old optician in a dirty alley. I knew a chain store wouldn't have the equipment. My only hope would be someone that hadn't bought anything new in fifty years, or maybe someone that had an old machine that was kept as decoration.
The store was dark, at least from what I could tell. The owner, probably a man, asked me what I wanted. I pointed at the lens above my disease. He shook his head but I didn't see it. When I didn't react, he nodded and said, "I. will. try."
I waited in the store while old machines clanked back to life. After a lifetime in the dark of the store, he brought me a pair of glasses. They were heavy. The lenses were thick and the colour of double-cherry cough drops.
What the hell did I buy?
Everything was bright red. I looked down at the receipt, an amount I didn't understand in a language I couldn't read. A few words went blurry as I handed my credit card to the man that made these cherry-red glasses. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I know I'm too late to get any traction here, but I had to speak up: this is my actual situation.
I have a rare genetic disorder called *retinitis pigmentosa*. It starts with night blindness and compromised peripheral vision. Then comes tunnel vision. Loss of color. Then blindness.
Right now, I'm in the night blindness stage with slipping periphery. I'm spending a hefty chunk of 2017 traveling all over the world to see famous sites, or less famous things that I have always wanted to take in. Examples include Scottish moors, ice caves, and the least light-polluted spots on the planet. Suggestions are welcome!
It's interesting to read your entries! | "So what can I do? They don't make the lenses anymore?"
"They only work with glass, and nobody ..."
The doctor took a step fieldward and continued. "... nobody makes them anymore. I've read about them in textbooks, but that's about it."
"And that's the only thing that works?"
"It'll buy you a couple of years, ten at most."
It had a name, sent to the asterisk sections of obscure ophthalmological textbooks in libraries housed in Universities where nobody went, in countries where nobody visited. The books I wanted had been thrown out so I went to the dump with the customer number. Wild dogs and children got closer than they would have dared but I couldn't see them. They seemed to know.
Digging.
One got my dummy wallet. I was blind but I wasn't stupid.
Months.
A group knocked me down and stole my shoes. They cheered as they ran away. I didn't see them again.
I found it. It was junk. Junk in the dump. The letters matched but it couldn't be right. These were all sunglass lens samples. Under one of them the name matched. It's what my doctor called it. At least I think it was.
I took the book and the sample to an old optician in a dirty alley. I knew a chain store wouldn't have the equipment. My only hope would be someone that hadn't bought anything new in fifty years, or maybe someone that had an old machine that was kept as decoration.
The store was dark, at least from what I could tell. The owner, probably a man, asked me what I wanted. I pointed at the lens above my disease. He shook his head but I didn't see it. When I didn't react, he nodded and said, "I. will. try."
I waited in the store while old machines clanked back to life. After a lifetime in the dark of the store, he brought me a pair of glasses. They were heavy. The lenses were thick and the colour of double-cherry cough drops.
What the hell did I buy?
Everything was bright red. I looked down at the receipt, an amount I didn't understand in a language I couldn't read. A few words went blurry as I handed my credit card to the man that made these cherry-red glasses. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | This is just my actual life. It's called retinitis pigmentosa. I'm going to Iceland to look at stuff in April. I know this is violating the rules, or whatever, but I just can't not say something. Also nonfiction is subjective enough that some would argue there is no nonfiction, that all writing is interpretation, and that all that matters is whether the story is well written. So let's just admit nonfiction is still writing, and not take this down. Please.
The truth is the things I want to see most are not a sweeping landscape despite my current mission to go to Iceland and look at stuff.. The things I want to see the most are simple and mundane. I want to see my husband's face as he ages, my children's as they grow. I want to see as much of my family as I can before I can't anymore.
It isn't even that I will want to see them, it is that I want them to be seen. There is this incredible emotional need to see and be seen. I don't want them to ever feel like I don't see them.
It is silly to think that I need to physically see them in order to metaphorically see them... but in a weird way we do need that physicality, that immediacy, that connection.
One day I will wander the gallery of my mind, years after I can no longer see, and I will look at the faces of my family. The image will be faded and blurred, pieced together from small fractions of their faces that I glimpsed at in the last year's when my vision was a small pin prick of clarity in a swirl of blurred colors and shapes.
The last image is a collage hung in my heart and revisited impulsively, driven by a nagging physical need to SEE them, to know them as they are, the image shifting, morphing, fracturing and fraying...
And when I let that image go, when I stop feeling that last image to be a true image of them, stop needing it to be so, that moment will be the first moment when I will be truly blind, a true citizen of the sightless world. I will be a new self in a new world.
The last image will be an idea, a memory of a previous life, a previous me. | "So what can I do? They don't make the lenses anymore?"
"They only work with glass, and nobody ..."
The doctor took a step fieldward and continued. "... nobody makes them anymore. I've read about them in textbooks, but that's about it."
"And that's the only thing that works?"
"It'll buy you a couple of years, ten at most."
It had a name, sent to the asterisk sections of obscure ophthalmological textbooks in libraries housed in Universities where nobody went, in countries where nobody visited. The books I wanted had been thrown out so I went to the dump with the customer number. Wild dogs and children got closer than they would have dared but I couldn't see them. They seemed to know.
Digging.
One got my dummy wallet. I was blind but I wasn't stupid.
Months.
A group knocked me down and stole my shoes. They cheered as they ran away. I didn't see them again.
I found it. It was junk. Junk in the dump. The letters matched but it couldn't be right. These were all sunglass lens samples. Under one of them the name matched. It's what my doctor called it. At least I think it was.
I took the book and the sample to an old optician in a dirty alley. I knew a chain store wouldn't have the equipment. My only hope would be someone that hadn't bought anything new in fifty years, or maybe someone that had an old machine that was kept as decoration.
The store was dark, at least from what I could tell. The owner, probably a man, asked me what I wanted. I pointed at the lens above my disease. He shook his head but I didn't see it. When I didn't react, he nodded and said, "I. will. try."
I waited in the store while old machines clanked back to life. After a lifetime in the dark of the store, he brought me a pair of glasses. They were heavy. The lenses were thick and the colour of double-cherry cough drops.
What the hell did I buy?
Everything was bright red. I looked down at the receipt, an amount I didn't understand in a language I couldn't read. A few words went blurry as I handed my credit card to the man that made these cherry-red glasses. |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's probably 7a.m. The bedroom ceiling is glowing faintly with curtain filtered sunlight. I miss watching the dust motes dance. But it's okay.
It's been 20 years since we sat with two mugs of coffee between us. I should have stolen more glances of you back then. But it's okay.
It's been 15 years since we finally got our own place and more than two mugs in the apartment. It was for just in case we have dinner guests. We hardly did. But it's okay.
It's been 10 years since we heard the doctor read out the result of my failing eyesight. We argued about traveling and you cried again. But it's okay.
It's been five years since we found Mollie, my guide dog, your second snuggle buddy. I'm starting to feel my way around our place a little more. But it's okay.
It's probably 8a.m. It's a weekend so you won't be up yet. Recently, you keep asking me what else I want to see. I've seen everything I want to see.
20 years ago. You were blushing so much. Mumbling and talking with your hands about your favourite bands because I asked. I watched you drink your hot matcha tea while I took smaller sips of my mocha on the second floor of the coffee shop.
15 years ago I saw your eyes stare at every inch of the walls, ceiling, floor before lying down and breathing out a small "it's perfect". We were giggly and bought too much kitchenware for just two people. I'll never tire of watching you cook in the small but cosy kitchen.
10 years ago I watched your hand tighten around mine at the doctor's office. I saw determination and recklessness on your face a month after when I came home to you sitting at the dining table with our passports. You teared up and said we should have gone years ago. The house was empty for five months.
5 years ago I watched you sign the papers for a new occupant in our small apartment, Mollie. Beautiful Mollie. More often than not, you'd be asleep with her on the couch after I step out of the shower. Everything illuminated by the TV screen looked like a coloured blur at this time.
It's probably 9a.m. I can't read the clock on the wall anymore. I can't make out the pattern on our blankets either. But I can feel you and it's okay. I must have moved too much. You turned around, said good morning. Gently, pulled me under your chin and fell asleep again.
I don't need to travel anymore. I don't need to stay up hoping I can see stars again. The perfect image has always been there. Soaked in sunlight, inches from my face. The one last perfect image I want to see has always been you. | "That's quite the trip you have planned. The press are having a fit. I didn't even think it was possible."
"If I do it, I'll be the first."
"How do you plan on getting back?"
"Oh. There is no coming back. At least, not for me, not this trip. It's kind of poetic in my head. Darkness into darkness and all that."
"John... you know I'd help you in any way I can, but what you're talking about here. It's literal suicide, and for what? Blindness isn't anywhere near the hindrance it used to be!"
"I know all that, and I'm tried of people calling me selfish because of it. It's my life, I get to go out on my own terms for whatever bloody reasons I feel like.
Besides, what's the point of being a rich old coot if you don't do something stupid and reckless near the end"
"This is a bit different than going on a safari without a guide John"
"The old Antarctic, in the days when the corner bits of the earth were still hard to reach, is littered with the bodies of my ilk.
Rich idiots whose final days were spent sailing to unknown shores in the hopes of seeing something never before seen by another person.
I'll be just like that. Except madder and colder and even further away"
"Further away is right. I can't even imagine the distance. I mean, I literally can't."
"No, neither can I really. The figure came back at 40.5AU, or, about 3.7 billion miles."
"Fuck. That's..."
"... the furtherest a living person will have gone before. Apparently it's all much easier without worrying about a return leg of the trip, and UNSA seemed to forget a lot of their ethical qualms once my cheque book opened"
"John. I get what you are doing. At least I think. But I still don't get the 'why' of it all. By the time you get there, you'll be almost completely blind, what can you possibly see out there with such a small field of vision that makes all this effort worth it?"
"A Pale Blue Dot. About the size of a pixel. Yes, if I can see that with my final moments, that would do quite nicely" |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | It's been about a year since the diagnosis. The doctors said it was incurable and it would rapidly progress. Luckily the doctor didn't know everything in this case. The initial estimate was that I'd be completely blind within a couple of weeks but, like I said...one year later and here we are.
After the diagnosis there were a lot of tears as to be expected, mostly from my mate...and myself...ok a lot from myself...shut up I can't help that I'm sensitive.
So about a week after it happened we decided to use the funds we'd saved up from working to go in search of what I called my "final sunrise" something that would stick with me for the rest of time. It started in London, we saw Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (a little too rich for my tastes but hey, to each their own), the Millennium Wheel was really cool, though being that high up gave me vertigo.
After London, we went north, to the land where my family hailed, Scotland! I got to see our family estate and got to show my mate around it. The air was so clear that day and the sky the purest blue. But still, that sunset escaped me. A month after the United Kingdom and we were off to Egypt for a pilgrimage to see the place where my and his faith were practiced in earnest millennia ago. By now my sight had begun to narrow but still, the Great Pyramids were as awe inspiring to me as they must have been to travelers all those era's ago.
Though we couldn't go everywhere we wanted, because of work, because of life, because of all those little moments. We still went on one last trip. My mate surprised me over dinner one evening in October, right around Halloween, he'd gotten two round trip tickets to Tokyo. Both of us being unapologetic fans of anime of all kinds, it was the magnum opus of our escapade around the world. Tokyo, Kyoto and the Great Shrine of Inari, and of course, the Hokkaido Fox Village. I got to pet one of those catdogs up close! Best. Day. EVER! I could just make out those derpy looks on their muzzles as they tried to steal my backpack.
So...did I ever find my sunset? I'm about to. This will probably be the last thing I see. I only have a few days left before it goes completely dark. This will most likely be my last time writing like this. So much for my career as a writer right? ah well. I'd go on a spiel about the best-laid plans and something deep like that as I'm often known to do, but as my best man just pointed out, I'm about to be late for my own wedding!
I don't know if anyone will ever read this diary thing besides me and Eric, but if you happen to stumble upon it take my advice: See the world as if it was the last time you'd be able to. Take in each color, each detail, absorb it and memorize it, you'll be glad you did later.
(So that's my first time ever posting here and the first time EVER publishing anything I've written online. I know, my grammar sucks.) | "That's quite the trip you have planned. The press are having a fit. I didn't even think it was possible."
"If I do it, I'll be the first."
"How do you plan on getting back?"
"Oh. There is no coming back. At least, not for me, not this trip. It's kind of poetic in my head. Darkness into darkness and all that."
"John... you know I'd help you in any way I can, but what you're talking about here. It's literal suicide, and for what? Blindness isn't anywhere near the hindrance it used to be!"
"I know all that, and I'm tried of people calling me selfish because of it. It's my life, I get to go out on my own terms for whatever bloody reasons I feel like.
Besides, what's the point of being a rich old coot if you don't do something stupid and reckless near the end"
"This is a bit different than going on a safari without a guide John"
"The old Antarctic, in the days when the corner bits of the earth were still hard to reach, is littered with the bodies of my ilk.
Rich idiots whose final days were spent sailing to unknown shores in the hopes of seeing something never before seen by another person.
I'll be just like that. Except madder and colder and even further away"
"Further away is right. I can't even imagine the distance. I mean, I literally can't."
"No, neither can I really. The figure came back at 40.5AU, or, about 3.7 billion miles."
"Fuck. That's..."
"... the furtherest a living person will have gone before. Apparently it's all much easier without worrying about a return leg of the trip, and UNSA seemed to forget a lot of their ethical qualms once my cheque book opened"
"John. I get what you are doing. At least I think. But I still don't get the 'why' of it all. By the time you get there, you'll be almost completely blind, what can you possibly see out there with such a small field of vision that makes all this effort worth it?"
"A Pale Blue Dot. About the size of a pixel. Yes, if I can see that with my final moments, that would do quite nicely" |
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[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | I've been saving this compliment for months now. It's nothing too special. Not a Magnum Opus by any stretch of the imagination, but it'll have the desired effect. My vision is nearing its end. I'm not scared. To some, blindness may be terrifying; however, I had a plan. We've taken measures to assure a long and comfortable life when it does finally go. Besides, I have her.
I'm sitting up in bed, an activity I'd seen much of recently, and contemplating my master plan. A flurry of emotion washes over me. It usually does when my mind becomes occupied with her. I panic momentarily, fearing the worst, but manage to bring myself to peace.
I hear footsteps on the landing below. Soft and muffled from the thick green carpet that covers both the tight, clumsy staircase and the attic which had become our bedroom. A movement draws what's left of my vision to the stairs as she hops up the last step.
Draped in her favourite oversized T-shirt, which dropped nearly down to her knees, she flops down next to me. Her beauty never did lie in elegance. Rather, it was her childlike glee and jumpiness that pulled the corners of my lips into a smile. Her imperfections brought her to life, just as they stole my heart the moment I laid my eyes on her. The same eyes that had little life left in them.
I turn over to her and whisper her name. She returns my gaze. "Yes?" she replies. "I have something very important to tell you." I say "You have a very special talent. Something nobody but you can ever do. You alone can make me smile and laugh and feel butterflies in my stomach when moments before I'd been sobbing like a lost child."
I examine her face, awaiting her response. She smiles, slowly at first, then a full grin. Her cheeks rise and she begins to squint, ever so slightly, showing her laugh lines in the corner of her eyes. She shies away from compliments, so her chin tilts downwards. Some loose strands of hair tumble forward and cast small shadows over her face. She's trying to hide, but doesn't break eye contact with me. Her big, brown doe eyes are easy to get lost in.
This adorable smile is one I've come to love. It encapsulates all of her beauty and proves her humbleness. Not knowing just how beautiful she is makes her even more beautiful in a sense. I close my eyes and lean in for a kiss. Our lips touch gently. Then, calmly and carefully, I rest my head in the crook of her neck. We lay together in tranquility, listening to the rise and fall of our chests and the beating of our hearts.
Sleep comes for me. As I feel myself losing consciousness, I recall the image of her shy smile and feel my own lips curl into a grin. My breathing slows and the light fades - forevermore. | "That's quite the trip you have planned. The press are having a fit. I didn't even think it was possible."
"If I do it, I'll be the first."
"How do you plan on getting back?"
"Oh. There is no coming back. At least, not for me, not this trip. It's kind of poetic in my head. Darkness into darkness and all that."
"John... you know I'd help you in any way I can, but what you're talking about here. It's literal suicide, and for what? Blindness isn't anywhere near the hindrance it used to be!"
"I know all that, and I'm tried of people calling me selfish because of it. It's my life, I get to go out on my own terms for whatever bloody reasons I feel like.
Besides, what's the point of being a rich old coot if you don't do something stupid and reckless near the end"
"This is a bit different than going on a safari without a guide John"
"The old Antarctic, in the days when the corner bits of the earth were still hard to reach, is littered with the bodies of my ilk.
Rich idiots whose final days were spent sailing to unknown shores in the hopes of seeing something never before seen by another person.
I'll be just like that. Except madder and colder and even further away"
"Further away is right. I can't even imagine the distance. I mean, I literally can't."
"No, neither can I really. The figure came back at 40.5AU, or, about 3.7 billion miles."
"Fuck. That's..."
"... the furtherest a living person will have gone before. Apparently it's all much easier without worrying about a return leg of the trip, and UNSA seemed to forget a lot of their ethical qualms once my cheque book opened"
"John. I get what you are doing. At least I think. But I still don't get the 'why' of it all. By the time you get there, you'll be almost completely blind, what can you possibly see out there with such a small field of vision that makes all this effort worth it?"
"A Pale Blue Dot. About the size of a pixel. Yes, if I can see that with my final moments, that would do quite nicely" |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | and as my vision starts to fade
i search tirelessly for the view
the one that i'll see for the rest of my days
the one that will still drive me through;
will it be a sunrise bright
set alight by stark contrast and hue
or maybe the forest on a summer morning
grass glittering with chilling dew;
i can fret as i may and believe what i like
for i never had thought that i knew
but from the second they told me i knew it quite well
i want to see always an image of you.
| "That's quite the trip you have planned. The press are having a fit. I didn't even think it was possible."
"If I do it, I'll be the first."
"How do you plan on getting back?"
"Oh. There is no coming back. At least, not for me, not this trip. It's kind of poetic in my head. Darkness into darkness and all that."
"John... you know I'd help you in any way I can, but what you're talking about here. It's literal suicide, and for what? Blindness isn't anywhere near the hindrance it used to be!"
"I know all that, and I'm tried of people calling me selfish because of it. It's my life, I get to go out on my own terms for whatever bloody reasons I feel like.
Besides, what's the point of being a rich old coot if you don't do something stupid and reckless near the end"
"This is a bit different than going on a safari without a guide John"
"The old Antarctic, in the days when the corner bits of the earth were still hard to reach, is littered with the bodies of my ilk.
Rich idiots whose final days were spent sailing to unknown shores in the hopes of seeing something never before seen by another person.
I'll be just like that. Except madder and colder and even further away"
"Further away is right. I can't even imagine the distance. I mean, I literally can't."
"No, neither can I really. The figure came back at 40.5AU, or, about 3.7 billion miles."
"Fuck. That's..."
"... the furtherest a living person will have gone before. Apparently it's all much easier without worrying about a return leg of the trip, and UNSA seemed to forget a lot of their ethical qualms once my cheque book opened"
"John. I get what you are doing. At least I think. But I still don't get the 'why' of it all. By the time you get there, you'll be almost completely blind, what can you possibly see out there with such a small field of vision that makes all this effort worth it?"
"A Pale Blue Dot. About the size of a pixel. Yes, if I can see that with my final moments, that would do quite nicely" |
|
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | She took a step forward, her legs aching with years of experience. Her body was not what it once was, but she had used it well. The bruises, the scars, and even the wrinkles all had a story to tell. How she loved to tell them. Children listened intently, eyes open in awe to the sacrifices of the olden days. Those eyes, so much less scarred than hers.
Her eyes held a mysterious depth that absorbed attention with unsatiable hunger. No one could look at those eyes and come out unscathed. Not even her. The stories these told... And not a single word spoken. She saw empires rise and fall all over again everytime she stood in front of a mirror. She saw images of the Sunedeith War and the Seventh Revolution. She saw the dying embers of what once was her city. She still kept one small black stone from her home, stolen from the garden path of her grandmothers' house. A memento of times past and a reminder of continued survival. Her grandmother had survived the Red Eclipse. Her house was one of the few structures that survived the second fall of Bravor. Not that it mattered. Her grandmother had long ago left this realm. As for her, she never returned to that house. It was old and a painful reminder of war. Much like herself, it had seen too much.
People respected her in a way they would respect a God. They would see in her hope, strength, and guidance. They did not see humanity. She was their victories and failures. She was her ship and her soldiers. Even to the weapons they carried. She was reminder of war. The feared her. Not that she cared about any of it. She had fulfilled her role and now she wanted nothing more than to live as simply Selena.
And to the many children sitting in front of her, she was Selena, the storyteller. Children where the only ones who saw her as just another human. An old lady with bags of treats and stories. Stories their parents would never dare tell them. But oh did they need to know. Knowledge as such was hard to come by. Generations to come would find themselved lacking. And this was dangerous, she knew as much. These stories could not die with her.
She also knew, she had little time. The shakes had started. Her vision blurred day by day. Her field of vision growing small and pitiful. She had seen so much already, feeling she had seen too much of the world for it to matter. But she was wrong.
There was one more thing.
Her mother, as strong of a woman and fighter as she was, was also an lover. As a lover, she was an artist. It led to much suffering but her mother loved life, as dark as it was. She simply painted in darker colours. She always hid a little bit of brightness that you could only catch if you looked for it in the right light. However, it had all been lost in the Seventh Revolution. At least, that is what she believed, until Caleb gave her a box.
Caleb was an orphan of barely 13 years old. Smart as a whip, tough as the rock in her pocket. Like her mother, he was an artist too. He appreciated life the way younglings do, naive and resilient with a mind full of wonder. So much curiosity hidden in the depth of their mind, waiting to come out at a moments notice. When he was found in Aria 72, he held his one material posession close to his chest. At mere 4 years old he had survived the end of the world as he knew it only clutching a box full of dried paints and broken brushes. A strange posession for a boy so young found in the remnants of a T-2378z. But he kept the box close, insisting on becoming the first artist of the New World. His father, a surgeon, had once told him that a world without art was only a skeleton of civilization.
Caleb took his mission with pride, discovering colours even in the solid grey walls of the New Aria settlement. He painted with a passion and precision his father would proud of. Selena had never once seen his work. Caleb always painted in secret.
With expecting eyes and a whispered thank you, he handed her a simple brown box. Inside, a treasure no one but Caleb had seen. A treasure so precious, it would be first shared between them. She knew she wouldn't be able to appreciate every detail, not that it mattered. She opened the box and her world exploded in colour. Even in the blurrines of her sight she would recognise her home anywhere. Selena clutched the rock in her posession close to her chest and smiled, looking up to Caleb. Such a beautiful boy, he reminded her so much of her father. Caleb had given her the most beautiful gift. He had given Selena her home. So she gave him one of his own. As Caleb held the rock in his hand, she looked at his face and the world around her disappeared. But she was not alone. Caleb held her hand and hugged her. No, she was not alone. She had a new family now.
Sorry for formatting or mistakes. English is not my first language and I used my phone to type. Feedback welcome. Enjoy! | "That's quite the trip you have planned. The press are having a fit. I didn't even think it was possible."
"If I do it, I'll be the first."
"How do you plan on getting back?"
"Oh. There is no coming back. At least, not for me, not this trip. It's kind of poetic in my head. Darkness into darkness and all that."
"John... you know I'd help you in any way I can, but what you're talking about here. It's literal suicide, and for what? Blindness isn't anywhere near the hindrance it used to be!"
"I know all that, and I'm tried of people calling me selfish because of it. It's my life, I get to go out on my own terms for whatever bloody reasons I feel like.
Besides, what's the point of being a rich old coot if you don't do something stupid and reckless near the end"
"This is a bit different than going on a safari without a guide John"
"The old Antarctic, in the days when the corner bits of the earth were still hard to reach, is littered with the bodies of my ilk.
Rich idiots whose final days were spent sailing to unknown shores in the hopes of seeing something never before seen by another person.
I'll be just like that. Except madder and colder and even further away"
"Further away is right. I can't even imagine the distance. I mean, I literally can't."
"No, neither can I really. The figure came back at 40.5AU, or, about 3.7 billion miles."
"Fuck. That's..."
"... the furtherest a living person will have gone before. Apparently it's all much easier without worrying about a return leg of the trip, and UNSA seemed to forget a lot of their ethical qualms once my cheque book opened"
"John. I get what you are doing. At least I think. But I still don't get the 'why' of it all. By the time you get there, you'll be almost completely blind, what can you possibly see out there with such a small field of vision that makes all this effort worth it?"
"A Pale Blue Dot. About the size of a pixel. Yes, if I can see that with my final moments, that would do quite nicely" |
Subsets and Splits