¤ Blind ¤

“Mother!” she cried. “Father! Nanny!” she exclaimed, confusedly, crawling close to the floor, coughing, smoke pushing into her lungs. “Help!” she exclaimed, her eyes burning. Ash filled the air, and she rubbed her eyes, a little clumsily. She was suffocating; choking, crying; she was only a seven year old. Where was her family?

A wooden timber fell from above her head, narrowly missing her. Flames, though, jumped out at her and swept across her face. She cried in pain, placing her hands on her eyes, the pain worse than anything she had ever felt.

She felt arms around her middle, someone pulling her up, out of the smoke and flames, saving her. The person holding her swiftly walked down a flight of stairs and placed her out on the grass a hundred feet outside the burning house.

“Isabelle; are you okay?” asked her Nanny, compassion and fright in her voice. Her Nanny’s name was Marjorie; she was all whom Isabelle had now.

The girl coughed and spread her hands out in front of her face. “Nanny, I can not see!” she exclaimed.

“But, over there, the burning house,” she said quickly. “Can you not see its brightness?” She was gasping, exhausted from the effort it took to find the girl and save her.

Isabelle looked around, her eyes wide open, and blinked. “My eyes hurt so! Oh, I can not see, I can not see!” she sobbed.

Isabelle had lived in Salem Village, with her family, until... until the unexplainable fire started in her house. Quite soon afterwards, her unemployed Nanny had to find another job, for she was unmarried and in search for money, food, and a place to sleep. Marjorie, rather than giving her up to an orphanage, took Isabelle along with her; she took her in and cared for her, while doing her demanding job of housekeeper and governess for another family.

The little child would sit out on the porch, or feel her way out into the yard, and listen. She couldn’t see; the flames had blinded her but luckily had not scarred her face. She felt like a burden, upon everyone. She felt helpless.

Marjorie, her Nanny, married a woodcrafter, and withdrew from being a governess. Isabelle was very close to her Nanny, and became part of her family when she was married. They moved to a subdivision of Salem which was on the border between Salem Village and Salem Town, and it was here where Isabelle grew up.

Marjorie’s husband was kind; he lent gentle words to Isabelle and often brought her along with him when he ventured out into the woods to chop down some wood for his business. He would watch her when his wife went to town and get his work done in the process. Isabelle would sit outside and enjoy the breeze and the soft air. She might have been blind, but she was a strong girl.

Soon after meeting her, Thomas, Marjorie’s husband, set to work making Isabelle a cane. He gave it to her one morning, as a gift. Isabelle still remembered feeling the sturdy wood with interweaving patterns at the grip for the first time, and the delight it gave her to be mobile.

Marjorie and Thomas, during the early years of their marriage, had four children; three boys and a girl. Isabelle didn’t feel quite as along anymore.

When it had grown cold, during the winter months, Isabelle and Marjorie sat by the fire and practiced stitching. Surprisingly, Isabelle caught on quickly, even able to sew patterns, progressing as she ages. Marjorie even ventured so far as to read her books and newspapers as well, attempting to increase her knowledge about the world around her.