Note: This is totally unedited. I haven’t even done a single revision from the time it was originally written. Feel free to suggest anything.

With The Light in Our Eyes

Underwater, sounds are different.

Dull.

Soft.

Distant.

Even violent screams are gentle whispers.

Calm.

Tranquil.

Clear.

Just like the water, the water around her body, over her face, covering the eyes which flutter open and the hands that quickly grasp the arms holding down her shoulders. The water breaks around the boy as he moves through it, his mouth meeting hers. A transfer of air and he's back at the surface. She's smiling in the fountain, glad to have a few more moments away from the harsh reality. But then he comes, and her dream is over.

Broken.

Finished.

Bygone.

Her name is - was - Sara Gino and she traveled. She never arrived and never left, she only moved. A part of her was present over the surface of the whole planet. She wasn't the memorable type, but no one ever forgot her. Not the butcher who gave her his bacon, not the seamstress who gave her his tarps, and certainly not the writer, who gave him her story.

Account.

Tale.

Allegory.

She wasn’t his love or his pride, she was his pet. Where he went, she followed and what he said, she did. We saw her for the first time in the hoop show. With a mound of gold curls piled on her head and tufts of pink lace flowing round her legs, she and her hoop were a sight. We all saw her, still do, sitting by the edge of the ring perched on a simple stool. There were others on both sides of her, but Sara was the only one anyone saw.

Observed.

Noticed.

Watched.

Word is, she dreamt. And in the dream, she was blind and woke up to her reflection in the mirror. The once-blind eyes glowed with a light she’d never seen and she ran.

Escaped.

Fled.

Gone.

He found her there with the glow still in her eyes and he took her with him. He put her on the wire, he gave her a hoop, he taught her to dance. She was his and his alone. We don’t know who he was, or perhaps what. But he was their leader. And they all knew it. Nobody minded. He had the brains for it. They gave him respect. She gave him reason.

Life.

Time.

Sense.

She didn’t speak much. We never heard her voice, but we hear it now, sweetly echoing in our ears, ringing with the joy and laughter we know she wanted to show. He never let her, but Matty did.

The actor.

The artist.

The acrobat.

He had too much joy in his life; it was what brought him down. He wasn’t with her, he watched her. He tried to join her, but all he got was a brief one-sided conversation with her under the bleachers when the show ended. His eyes, too, shone with starlight when we saw him next. That was her purity at work. She couldn’t do much but express her life.

Share.

Give.

Teach.

She dreams about mirrors that show her without eyes. Wakes up with a light that glows where they used to be and runs away.

Gone.

It was one day. One act. One simple twirl of the hoop.

We didn’t know her, but she knew us.

We never heard her, but she spoke to us.

We couldn’t reach her, but she taught us.

And now it is us, we, who move with the light in our eyes.