Status: Completed! :O Sequal yet to come!
Blinded
You Know, Like the Utensil
At first everything was black, but I could feel all of my surroundings. It was dirty, leafy, and moist. I smelled what I felt: moist, damp air, lots of dirt. I heard the crack of twigs beneath my shoes, the swaying of the trees beneath the wind, the rustling of leaves and bushes. I felt the caress of the wind, the rough bark of the trees that seemed to be everywhere, and the soggy moss that was on just about everything. It squished beneath my hand and I made a disgusted face, bringing my hand up to my face to access the damage.
That is when everything became colored. I gasped, watching as the outline of a hand become the color of what I’ve been told my skin tone is: lightly tanned. I had feminine looking hands, ones that were gleaming from the moisture attained by touching the damp . . . everything, really.
Everything. I looked up to see if it was now colored and visible like my hand and to my delight it was. I saw tall trees, ones that took the form my imagination set to them, since I haven‘t seen trees since I was five-years-old. The leaves were a dark green - at least I assumed that is what the color was. I heard trees were green, and they were different colors of green depending on the area. I looked around and found moss filled rocks like I felt, deciduous floor, bushes and leaves everywhere. Apparently this would be a forest, so the trees would be a forest green. It fit. And the rocks were grey, like I remember they were. Tree trunks were brown, fallen leaves were a light and dark brown, and the sky above - well, I couldn’t really see the sky above. But through the crevices of the tall trees I saw cloudy skies, but they were grey, so that meant they were rainy.
I was consumed by color and what my imagination assumed was what all the surrounding things looked like. I continued to walk - admiring my sneakers along the way, the ones that people tell me are checkered black and white - to wherever it was I was set on going to. I just walked, admired, stared, and smelled the damp air around me. I asked myself where I was going, why was I going there, and where I was in general. I knew I was in a forest, but a forest where? It wasn’t in Italy, my current home, that was for sure. I lived in Verona and, since other senses are heightened when one is lost, I heard everything going on in Verona: car horns, clinking bells from bikes, and people talking.
Something was familiar about this place but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was eerie.
Then something appeared out of the brush. It was big, hairy, and had a fierce look on its face. I think it was a dog - and a big one at that. It wasn’t a Golden Retriever, though the face structure was similar. I would know; my dad has one. It was more like a . . . a Husky, but a red-brown color. I think those are supposed to look like wolves.
That’s what it was: a wolf, a giant wolf staring at me.
“I‘ve been waiting for you, Mariabella,” it said.
I screamed. I think anyone would do the same if a giant wolf talked to them.
|-*-|
I woke up, my heart pounding. I opened my eyes but it wasn’t much of a difference; everything was still black nothingness. It’s the only thing I will ever see since I happen to be blind. For some strange reason I was expecting to see the world of color I saw in my dream when I woke up. I’ve been waking up to black basically my whole life, so why was I expecting color?
I sighed and sat up, hearing the sound of a people talking. My window must have been open. The cool Verona air came in through the window and caressed my face, waking me up. I threw my legs over my bed and stretched, my foot touching something big and furry. My dad’s - well, mine now - Golden Retriever: Romeo.
Romeo became mine now because Dad wouldn’t be able to take care of him. He was in jail now for the murder of our neighbors. He killed them out of cold blood because their cats would always fight in the middle of the night and wake him up. He always had a short temper. Especially after Mom packed up and left us behind.
We already went through the trial and he was found guilty. Now, since he was in jail, I was left without a guardian here in Italy. The only one that was here was my dad’s girlfriend who, though she liked me, wasn’t willing to stay here and take care of me. She was helping me move all my things to the moving truck and take me to America, specifically Washington. I was to live in a place called Forks - you know, like the utensil - to live with my new guardians: Aunt Cara and Uncle Steve.
“Mariabella,” Elda, Dad’s girlfriend, called. “Sei svegilo?”
“Yes, yes, I‘m up,” I called back in English, walking out of my room to the bathroom. Luckily I knew my way around. I wasn’t going to have that luxury in my new home.
“Affrettati e ottenere la vostra roba insieme,” she replied. She only speaks Italian but understands English. I speak Italian too, but I didn’t feel like it at the moment. “Gli uomini hanno per ottenere il tuo letto verso il camion.”
“Okay, I‘m on it!” I shouted.
Everything was going so fast now: the movers were here, like Elda said, and they were coming up to get my bed - one of the very last things in my now empty bedroom. All that was left was Romeo’s bed, my small bag filled with a little bit of food for Romeo (to feed him on the way to the airport) and water for the both of us; audio books (regular books don‘t do much for me); money from Dad and some from my savings; and lastly the letter from my mom. Even if I can’t read it, I keep it. Dad would read it to me every now and again. I would have to ask Aunt Cara to do that now.
Elda was telling the movers where they had to take some of the boxes - my dad’s things that she would now keep - would go. My suitcases filled with clothes, bathroom necessities, and various other possessions of mine that was not furniture were packed into Elda’s small car. I have been in that thing many a time and I always hit my head. Romeo was barely going to fit. Elda, Dad and I barely fit into that thing without my suitcases and Golden Retriever.
I came down the stairs cautiously. I have a problem with stairs since I can’t tell where the last step is, even if I have created a little method - counting the number of steps - and have lived in this house for years. Unfortunately Aunt Cara says she has stairs and a great view, but the stairs concern me more than the view. A view of blackness is something I am used to. I have not become accustomed to those stairs. I have accepted the fact that I am going to receive a lot of bruises and injuries once I move there.
Elda waited patiently as I went around the empty house, feeling the cracked walls, the smooth countertops, places where familiar furniture and its many smells (Romeo could never really hold it) used to be. I said one last goodbye to the familiar world of my Verona before I go into a world unknown, a world known as Forks, Washington.
That is when everything became colored. I gasped, watching as the outline of a hand become the color of what I’ve been told my skin tone is: lightly tanned. I had feminine looking hands, ones that were gleaming from the moisture attained by touching the damp . . . everything, really.
Everything. I looked up to see if it was now colored and visible like my hand and to my delight it was. I saw tall trees, ones that took the form my imagination set to them, since I haven‘t seen trees since I was five-years-old. The leaves were a dark green - at least I assumed that is what the color was. I heard trees were green, and they were different colors of green depending on the area. I looked around and found moss filled rocks like I felt, deciduous floor, bushes and leaves everywhere. Apparently this would be a forest, so the trees would be a forest green. It fit. And the rocks were grey, like I remember they were. Tree trunks were brown, fallen leaves were a light and dark brown, and the sky above - well, I couldn’t really see the sky above. But through the crevices of the tall trees I saw cloudy skies, but they were grey, so that meant they were rainy.
I was consumed by color and what my imagination assumed was what all the surrounding things looked like. I continued to walk - admiring my sneakers along the way, the ones that people tell me are checkered black and white - to wherever it was I was set on going to. I just walked, admired, stared, and smelled the damp air around me. I asked myself where I was going, why was I going there, and where I was in general. I knew I was in a forest, but a forest where? It wasn’t in Italy, my current home, that was for sure. I lived in Verona and, since other senses are heightened when one is lost, I heard everything going on in Verona: car horns, clinking bells from bikes, and people talking.
Something was familiar about this place but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was eerie.
Then something appeared out of the brush. It was big, hairy, and had a fierce look on its face. I think it was a dog - and a big one at that. It wasn’t a Golden Retriever, though the face structure was similar. I would know; my dad has one. It was more like a . . . a Husky, but a red-brown color. I think those are supposed to look like wolves.
That’s what it was: a wolf, a giant wolf staring at me.
“I‘ve been waiting for you, Mariabella,” it said.
I screamed. I think anyone would do the same if a giant wolf talked to them.
|-*-|
I woke up, my heart pounding. I opened my eyes but it wasn’t much of a difference; everything was still black nothingness. It’s the only thing I will ever see since I happen to be blind. For some strange reason I was expecting to see the world of color I saw in my dream when I woke up. I’ve been waking up to black basically my whole life, so why was I expecting color?
I sighed and sat up, hearing the sound of a people talking. My window must have been open. The cool Verona air came in through the window and caressed my face, waking me up. I threw my legs over my bed and stretched, my foot touching something big and furry. My dad’s - well, mine now - Golden Retriever: Romeo.
Romeo became mine now because Dad wouldn’t be able to take care of him. He was in jail now for the murder of our neighbors. He killed them out of cold blood because their cats would always fight in the middle of the night and wake him up. He always had a short temper. Especially after Mom packed up and left us behind.
We already went through the trial and he was found guilty. Now, since he was in jail, I was left without a guardian here in Italy. The only one that was here was my dad’s girlfriend who, though she liked me, wasn’t willing to stay here and take care of me. She was helping me move all my things to the moving truck and take me to America, specifically Washington. I was to live in a place called Forks - you know, like the utensil - to live with my new guardians: Aunt Cara and Uncle Steve.
“Mariabella,” Elda, Dad’s girlfriend, called. “Sei svegilo?”
“Yes, yes, I‘m up,” I called back in English, walking out of my room to the bathroom. Luckily I knew my way around. I wasn’t going to have that luxury in my new home.
“Affrettati e ottenere la vostra roba insieme,” she replied. She only speaks Italian but understands English. I speak Italian too, but I didn’t feel like it at the moment. “Gli uomini hanno per ottenere il tuo letto verso il camion.”
“Okay, I‘m on it!” I shouted.
Everything was going so fast now: the movers were here, like Elda said, and they were coming up to get my bed - one of the very last things in my now empty bedroom. All that was left was Romeo’s bed, my small bag filled with a little bit of food for Romeo (to feed him on the way to the airport) and water for the both of us; audio books (regular books don‘t do much for me); money from Dad and some from my savings; and lastly the letter from my mom. Even if I can’t read it, I keep it. Dad would read it to me every now and again. I would have to ask Aunt Cara to do that now.
Elda was telling the movers where they had to take some of the boxes - my dad’s things that she would now keep - would go. My suitcases filled with clothes, bathroom necessities, and various other possessions of mine that was not furniture were packed into Elda’s small car. I have been in that thing many a time and I always hit my head. Romeo was barely going to fit. Elda, Dad and I barely fit into that thing without my suitcases and Golden Retriever.
I came down the stairs cautiously. I have a problem with stairs since I can’t tell where the last step is, even if I have created a little method - counting the number of steps - and have lived in this house for years. Unfortunately Aunt Cara says she has stairs and a great view, but the stairs concern me more than the view. A view of blackness is something I am used to. I have not become accustomed to those stairs. I have accepted the fact that I am going to receive a lot of bruises and injuries once I move there.
Elda waited patiently as I went around the empty house, feeling the cracked walls, the smooth countertops, places where familiar furniture and its many smells (Romeo could never really hold it) used to be. I said one last goodbye to the familiar world of my Verona before I go into a world unknown, a world known as Forks, Washington.
♠ ♠ ♠
I don't speak italian so if what I put doesn't make sense, to those of you who speak Italian, I am sorry! Now, please, enjoy. C: