Journal Day 10: Dashing Through the Trees

I ran today.
Through the patch of
budding trees that gathers just before
the green glades.
Doctor Garth commanded it
of me.
For more studies.
I feared at first that I might run
into something, but
my fears subsided when I
first felt the rushing wind on
my face.
It's the first time I've ever
ran anywhere.
Though I could not see, my feet carried
me along an invisible pathway,
as if it was instinct.
I only tripped at the end of my run.
But it was only because I tired
of running.
I fell on my back,
and laughed the hardest I've
ever laughed.
Doctor Garth simply "hmphed" and
put his paw on my nose.
Again....

1076, Dey 10, 14th hour.

Journal Day 9: First Study

The wind brushed against
my face.
The smell of fresh water swept
itself up into my nostrils.
Birds and all other sorts of
creatures chirped and
chattered the day
away.
The cool waters of the lake drifted in a constant current
around me.
But I still couldn't see
a thing.
That's what Dr.Garth was
studying.
My eyes. My blind eyes.
Bright gold and pupilless, as many
have told me but I've never seen
for myself.
He studied to know the cause
of my blindness.
I figure that is what the Mayor
paid him for.
The Mayor himself sat on a dock
a'ways away from the shore
with his steel fishing
pole that so many others envied him for. (Usual poles
are wooden).
Dr.Garth puts a paw on my nose and asks
me to, "describe my blindness" as we sit in
the shallows of the lake together.
I do my best, but am sure that I'm not describing
well enough.
Dr.Garth just groans
and moans in contemplation, still
poking and prodding at my face.
That is how I spent most of the day.
Sitting lazily in the waters of Lake Dutchess,
being poked in the face by,
an intelligent dog/doctor.
I enjoyed it quite much.
Though I still don't know everything
I'd like to about know
the doctor and his intentions.
The Mayor's intentions.
What does this have to do with me exactly?

1076, Dey 9, 13th Hour

Journal Day 8: The Guest

A guest is at the Mayor's
Manor today.
I'm not certain, but
there may be two of them.
Two guests.
There are definitely four feet;
I can tell as I make my way
downstairs to meet him (or them).
Yes, four feet moving in
perfect unison, I
hear.
Blingsight, for a moment, gives no help
to confirm or deny my suspicions.
Only my "Blindhearing" helps; If I can
call it that.
The guest, who has the voice of a
panting man asks, "What is that
you hold in your hand, man-boy?"
I write this all as it happens, as fast
I as can. I tell him about my journal.
Silence fills the room.
It's unsettling not to see the guest's
face in a flash; especially with his harsh
breathing.
The Mayor mumbles.
The guest mumbles back.
"Cole. Man-boy." The guest says, "My name is
Dr.Garth"
My blindsight works just then.
Standing in front of me is a brown dog with an eye-patch and a wide, slobbery jaw.
He holds his paw out for me to shake.

1076, Dey 8, 5th Hour

Seraph Excerpt 3

Watch. It commanded me.

Do I have a choice? I inquired sarcastically.

An explosion of white light filled my vision then, and my sarcasm left me. The brightness of the light burned my eyes. I couldn’t see, but I could feel myself drop to my knees and onto my stomach. To my surprise, I felt dry, soft sand running through my fingers. The light disappeared and my vision slowly returned. I found myself looking down at black, seemingly burnt, sand.

I heard the voice again, but this time it didn’t seem so dreamy, or so far away, “Get up!”

I turned upwards to see a small, silver skinned, girl standing over me. She looked metallic, like a robot, or one of those androids who had attacked me; but a little more humane, alive. Her eyes glowed blue, and her mouth showed the same color as she opened it to speak, “Get up. Hurry!”

I was still too stunned to stand, “Where am I?”

She ignored me, “Seraph please! I’m scared!”

It was strange; the moment felt somewhat real, but I felt very different. I figured it would be any moment that some powerful urge be a hero would fall over me, and I would save the day from whatever it was that was scaring the little girl.

I was wrong.

I found that I could move nothing but my head. The rest of my body was stiff as stone. The silver-girl was still urging me to get, shaking me and banging on my chest violently to the point where it almost hurt. I wanted to get up, I wanted to help her, but I simply couldn’t.

“I can’t move,” I tried to explain, “What’s happening? What are you so afraid of?”

Luminescent blue tears began rolling down the silver-girl’s cheeks, “They’re coming back, look! They’re coming this way!” The girl got down on her knees and lifted me upright with a straining grunt. “You have to get up! I’m not strong enough.” Her weeping became louder. I could feel her tears dripping onto my back; feel her throbbing against me as she cried and cried without end.

I could see why she cried now as I sat up. There was a city before me, with large black and silver towers that reached to the heavens. Rolling white hills stretched on in the distance. I imagined that it would be a beautiful place if not for the towers of grey smoke and what I can only describe as black fire rising from every tower and spitting from every spider-webbing crevice in the ground. Something tugged at the strings of my heart, and I began to ache. I was attached to this place in some strange way. Like the world burning around me was my own.

I tried to get up one last time as a dark shadow fell over me. No, not just one shadow, shadows hovered over me. I turned as I righted myself into a kneeling position.

There were six of them. Four men and two women all dressed in dark, skin-tight attire that put their flawless, red, god-like bodies on display. They all wore black cloaks to match each other, their red skin seemed to glow, and they all wore boastful, malevolent grins. The most striking of all these things though, was the way they hovered, toes pointed, above the ground.

“You’ve lost Seraph.” One of the women, who dressed in crimson red, her head shaved, spoke. Her voice seemed to echo into the air, “Your city burns, your planet dies, and your people will soon be without their hero.” She hovered closer to me, her hands positioned behind her back. I felt the silver-girl’s grip on me tighten. “But I’m still willing to show grace. You have been a great adversary and deserve as much.”

I could finally stand. The bald woman landed softly in front of me, her gaze shifted quickly to the little girl as she continued her speech, “Give me the girl, and her sister. They have the potential to be great Goddesses as myself one day and should not be wasted,” she paused for a moment and arched an eyebrow, “Where is her sister?”

I said nothing, but arched an eyebrow as well.

The ladies features changed from subtlety to sudden outraged as she dug her sharp nails into my shoulders, “WHERE IS SHE?!”

Finally I spoke, “Lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I have a strong feeling that you’re one of the bad guys. I won’t let you take this girl or her sister, whoever she may be.”

In a move that was probably one of my dumbest ever, I smacked the “goddesses” hands away from me and put a hand on the silver-girl’s shoulder.

This did not make the goddess happy at all, “Insolent fool!” Her five hovering friends floated to her side, poised in fighting positions. “You and your people will die!”

I ducked and shielded the silver-girl just as the goddess swiped her clawed hand at me. Faster than I ever imagined myself moving, I swooped the girl up in my arms effortlessly and bolted off through the double doors of a smoke filled building.

I had only moment to ask, but I forced myself too as I carried her in my arms, “What’s your name?”

Tears still streaked her cheeks, “You- know-my-name,” she managed in between sobs.

I do? I asked myself.

The voice appeared again, and gave me the answer I was looking for. Nera.

“Oh yeah,” I tried my best at acting like I knew what I was talking about, “Nera, Where’s your sister?” I dodged my way around a pile fiery black debris.

“Eden? We have to find her!” Nera shouted.

I didn’t know how we would do that, but I tried to reassure her, “We will, I promise.”

Just then I saw a figure through the black fire. The figure of a girl. I thought, No way. There’s no way I’m that lucky.

Sure enough, I figured out that I was that lucky. I heard the girl, who I presumed was Nera’s sister, shouting to us.

“Seraph? Is that you?” She shouted

I didn’t know why people here kept on calling me by my last name, but I accepted it anyways, “Yes, over here!”

She came bursting through clouds of smoke, a girl that shared so much resemblance to Nera it was almost weird. She was older though, probably as old as me, and her sliver skin was tainted with black smears. She had long curly hair, much like her sister, and her eyes shone white.

“Eden, I presume?”

Things became even more confusing as she wrapped me in a tight hug and kissed me tenderly on the lips. It didn’t feel cold or metallic as I thought it would, there was a strange amount of warmth to her touch. Sweat, white tears rolled down her cheeks and fell onto me. And if you have to ask; yes It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt or tasted.

Sadly, the moment ended in abruptness as the six floating beings emerged through the black fire.

My world went dark and I fell unconscious…..again.

Journal Day 7: My Mistake

Staying out of bed yesterday

did not help me in the least bit.

My logic must not be as good as some believe it

to be.

I am still sick.

Apparently, the best way to battle

illness is through patience, rest, and obedience.

Which means no fun...



1076, Dey 7, 17th hour

Journal Day 6: Sick Days and Chapel Days

I am sick today.

So the rain won the battle

yesterday.

After an hour of painful headaches,

a fever took me.

And I am forcing it to let me go.

I refuse to saty in bed all day

and wait until the shivers and sickness

leave me be.

Everyone in town is at Chapel

today.

Including the Mayor and his wife.

They've left me with their daughter,

who is much older than me and does not attend

Chapel.

I'm not allowed in the Church.

I think it's because of the color of

my eyes.

Mayor's daughter, Ruth, checks on me;

she tells me to get back in bed.

i do.

But then get back out

and shuffle around, searching for the

window.

It's not raining anymore; so it's okay to look outside.

The window looks out over the green twon

in the direction of the Chapel.

I wait for an image to pop into my mind

and wish for a moment atht evryone else

were blind like me.

They wouldn't be able to see my golden eyes.

Maybe I could attend Chapel then...



1076, Dey 6, 9th hour

Journal Day 5: Rain War

It rained today.

I tried my best to stay

inside.

The rain fell in a soft drizzle.

A constant drizzle that hardly made any sound.

I do not favor the rain

and it does not favor me...

My best effort to avoid windows

in the Mayor's

home is not enough.

The pictures that cross my mind

are still. They do not follow my eyes direction

and every movement.

They are flashes.

Quick and never continuous images of the environment around

me.

I never know exactly where I am.

The reason I dislike the rain; the flashes become

continuous.

I am blinded by a barrage of distorted images.

Even at a soft drizzle, the rain makes my head

throb with pain.

I've never told anyone this, so the Mayor's wife

truly means no harm when she asks me to

get the drying clothes from the clothesline outside.

I still refrain from telling of my secret

war with the rain.

As a blind child, I feel as if I am already a burden to my

guardians.

I don't mean to become more of a burden by

sending others to do my chores whenever it pours...

My head still throbs from the pain.



1076, Dey 5, 23rd hour

Journal Day 4: Blind Sight

I bumped into Vesper today.

A girl my age, who entertains herself

by dancing in the lily patches.

She twirls dizzily and her blonde

hair follows.

Vesper is a beautiful girl;

but I suspect that I don't truly know

what beauty is.

I suspect I'm too young to know.

I'm too young to "like" girls.

And I don't.

Not yet.

Vesper is not angry when I bump into hrt.

But she asks why my steps are so wary;

why I'm slightly clumsy.

I tell her about my blindness, and she

understands.

I don't feel like explaining to her how I can still

see her soft face and blonde hair.

In still pictures that cross my mind like a memory might pass any others,

I see the world around me.

It's a gift that other blind might not

have.

I call it my Blind Sight.

1076, Dey 4, 7th hour

Journal Day 3: Invisible Audience

I do not know

who might ever read this,

but I enjoy writing as if having

a conversation.

As if speaking to an invisible audience.

If you haven't done the math

yourself yet,

I will tell you that I am six years old.

People tell me I am smart for

my age.

The Mayor's wife, Delilah, says that I was, "Born knowing".

I believe her.

Coping with others my age is hard.

They are very...

distracted.

Can't hold a conversation.

I'm okay with this.

I much prefer you, my invisible friend,

to them.



1076, Dey 3, 8th hour.

Adopted...

The Mayor is much like
I imagine a father might be.
He named me like a father would.
Cole.
Cole Cross.
I don't know where my last name
came from.
I always suspect that he made it up.
My father's last name was Smith;
and the Mayor's last name is Spurgeon.
I prefer to call him
Mayor.
He asked me to write in this journal.
He gave me the journal under the old-lone-oak on a quiet morning.
The Mayor's wife dislikes when I write at the dinner table.
But she tolerates me. Even when I spill.
She knows what a miracle it is for me to write everyday.
Most blind children cannot...

1076, Dey 2, 17th hour.

My First Journal Entry

The Mayor tells me that I was born in the 12th hour of the Violet Moon on the Third day, in the year 1076.

My mother died giving birth to me, and

my father ran when he saw my eyes.

They are both pupilless, golden and vibrant as the sunset.

Uncannilly, I still remember his howling and weeping echoing in the back of my mind,

"No! Not my son!" he cried over and over, running off into

the violet moonlight.

The Mayor tells me that I was as silent as my Mother when I came

into the world.

Born in the dank shed of his backyard.

I cannot remember my Mother's name

for my life.

The Mayor reminds me often.

And even more often her name escapes me,

as if by magic.

I do not care to remember my father's name...

He's gone now.



1076, Dey 1, 2nd hour

The Intro: by Eli

The morning mist rolled coolly over the green glades. The birds chirped and chattered in their many fluttery languages. The sun hid behind the edge of the world, not yet ready to give its light to the world. A soft breeze carried the loose grass on its back, taking it to far away and strange places.
It seemed a morning like any other on the rolling glades that stretched just beyond the Green Village. The world was not disturbed. Not by the wind, nor the sun, nor the mist, nor the fluttering birds. Not even by the Man and the Boy wandering to find rest under the old, lone-oak- tree that lay quietly in the field. They were silent as they waded through the mist; the moist grass barely squeaked under their feet. The Man gripped the boy’s hand lightly, leading him to the oak tree. The Man and the Boy sat, resting their backs against the tree. They spoke quietly, looking forward to the open range. No one could tell all that they said then, and I suspect no one will ever know. It is best left alone. For that is not the point. Not the main event. What I am here to begin; what I am here to tell is much greater than a few words whispered under a lone-oak-tree.
It is the tale of the Boy. The Boy sitting under the oak tree is what’s important; and the journal with old, yellow pages that the man gives the Boy is even more so. For without the yellowed journal, I would have nothing to give. The valuable tale that the Boy and I tell together through his book and my own memory would not be. But I have kept it all these many years for a reason. The yellowed, dusty book with its many adventures, strange tales, and words of wisdom is a gift. I beg that you listen.
Open your ears and widen your gaze….
- Eli

Rising...

Open your ears, and fix your gaze...

March 29th, 2011