Perception

By The Lurking Writer

o-o-o

It is said that in this universe there are opposites: heat and cold, light and dark, big and small. This night, on which I find myself wandering alone, was more than the mere opposite of light - it was like opening a door in a dark room and gazing into an even darker one. It was like someone had taken the stars out of the sky - as though someone had simply reached up, clasped them in their hand and extinguished their fiery glow. No, it wasn't so much the opposite of light or even the absence of it. It was as if there had never been such a thing in all creation.

It was thus that I stumbled upon the path by memory and the crunch of gravel alone. It was eerily quiet - not even the chirruping of crickets, croon of nightingales, or even howling of wolves could be heard. Silence, when it is so all pervasive, can weigh down upon you like a warm blanket, almost smothering you at times. Wrapping you in its touch it can seep through you, into your very core, til you can't even hear the drumming of your own heart, or pounding of your own blood in your ears.

The silence is so overwhelming that it becomes dark like the very air around me. Forcing in on me, crushing me, pushing me this way and that. The steady, soundless shifting of gravel beneath my feet gave way to a sharp barrier as a hefty stone laid itself between my left shin and my foot's destination. The still air rushing past my face as I fall, caressing my cheeks like a gentle lover; the rough shards of shingle and broken pebbles stab into my palms like tiny beetles armed with miniature axe-heads.

Pain so sharp yet oh-so-sweet fills my mind as the path collides with me. Pain that, because of the silence - the darkness - is amplified inside me, racing along every nerve like the golden sunbeams that flow across landscapes and portrait countrysides each morn. Pain that comes like a lifeline to me, because with it comes a certainty that I still exist - that I am not just some figment in the mind of a madman.

I embrace the pain as I embrace the path - with open arms and splayed fingers. Instinctively I pull my hands into me, licking the red liquid from my palms in the way I had done since childhood. The metallic taste of my own blood rang through my mouth, reminding me that though I lacked two of my most prominent senses, two others at least still remained to me.

The pain, blood and the path were now all I had to hang on to - pain and blood keeping my mind working constantly, the path being my sole way of reaching safety; either side of this path, I knew, ended in high cliffs and sharp rock faces. In daytime it was a breathtaking view; without the aid of sight, it terrified me. I couldn't stay still for more than a few seconds for the icy coolness of the gravel had begun to leach my warmth through the thin layer of protection offered me by my clothing, through the skin of my hands. The chill worried me too, because at that point I feared for my life, despite no real reason for doing so. I had navigated this stretch of land many, many times beforehand, so what was it that scared me now?

Perhaps it was that if I fell, I would not see the final moment, the final instant when life would leave my dying body and fly away to safety like a bird released. Perhaps it would be that I would not hear the sound of Mother Earth as she cradled me with her breath, knowing that no matter what She tried, she could not breathe deeply enough to save me. Perhaps it is because when my body hits the cruel rocks at the end of the steep freefall, due to my heightened sense of touch, the pain would become simply so unbearable that I would see the light before it is my time to do so. Perhaps it is all these reasons and more, or, just perhaps, it is because I cannot perceive what might possibly happen to me.

o-o-o

—Finis—