Author: Xyzo PM
Many live in delusions and think they are right. They fail to realize that nobody is...Rated: Fiction M - English - Spiritual/Angst - Words: 505 - Published: 01-03-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2878992
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
There never had been any light. There never had been any sound. Only touches and feelings. Only conveyed ideas. But why did they exist? Why? Why was he capable of sensing objects around him yet unable to determine what they were? What was their purpose?
The world seemed so small, so meaningless.
He felt his feet walking on a pavement along a street. However, he didn't know those were his feet, the movement was walking, the surface a pavement, the place a street. He was guided by other beings like him, but he didn't know who they were. It was such a confinement, such a prison, wanting to break out and see more than there is. It was apparent there was something beyond. But what?
From dots on a smooth surface to a place of uneven terrain, he moved aimlessly. And endlessly. Every process felt so unknown, so unsure. He could never have known when it had started and when it would end.
He felt hunger, he felt food and drink entering through his teeth. He didn't know what or who was responsible, but in his world, there was no difference between what and who. Everything just was and although he didn't know where he was heading, he knew he had a movement and wouldn't stop. But why?
There must have been something beyond. Something from another place. Something, because all he knew was nothing.
Suddenly, he felt pain. A movement of fear. A movement of unacceptable change. Where was he and what was happening? He could feel his hands, his legs, his entire body lying somewhere. He noticed somebody touching him, amplifying the pain in his body. Severing the link.
Then, the movement ended. The pain calmed, but he could still sense its presence. Pain. The only real thing he knew. The only thing he knew was negative. But there never was justice. And how could he know what that word meant when he couldn't see, couldn't hear?
Hours of stillness passed and nothing changed. Then the pain intensified again. He was alive. He felt it. He realized that the lone processes of mind were to know, to feel and to perceive.
He sensed that he was being torn apart. That something was reaching inside him, cutting him and examining him. What could possibly be there? And what could those operators look like? Sound like? What was sight and hearing? Others knew. He did not.
The pain ceased. His link was severed. He could no longer know, feel or perceive. Was it death? And what was death? A realization? Perhaps. A realization.
There was no difference, for senses were only media for perceiving. For every one that he lacked, countless of unimaginable eluded those gifted. His world was bleak, but so were those of others. It was an illusion of perception. But who was he to say when he didn't know any words? And who were others to say when they didn't know either?