A White One
The Enlightenment
This One smelled a sent for the first time in a Shadow’s existence and any Shadow’s existence (for Shadow can not experience the pleasure of smell either). The sent was smoky, like a fire or a first-struck match. The Shadow began to feel how blistered its freezing face was, compared to the warmth of the scent. The Shadow closed its seeing-holes and saw a vision.
White fluff was falling from the sky, but the sky was not black, it was a grayish-blue. There appeared to be a yellow orb behind the sky. The white fluff collected on the ground. This One was very confused, but then smelled the scent again, the smoky one. A rush of feeling awakened the Shadows numbed brain. This One did not know what to respond to first: the cold feet, the dried lips, the withering hands, or the pained ears, for it had never experienced such a feeling before. This One whirled around in confusion …then stopped. The feeling vanished as soon as they appeared. This One was being to feel scared, and even more frightened upon realizing that This One had never experienced “fear” before – had never experienced anything.
The yellow orb from behind the sky grew larger, growing closer. This One did not run, duck, nor blink. The yellow orb did not appear unfriendly, and was just as mesmerizing, if not more, than the first time This One glanced at the book room. The yellow orb broke through the gray, blue screen are enveloped the Shadow. The Shadow did not move, not because it did not want to, but because it could not.
The senses were coming back, the warmth on the inside, the consciousness of feet and hands and ears and lips. But the feeling was not painful, just one of awareness. The warm grew until it became hot. This One did not resist nor fight off the warmth, but welcomed it. Only when it began to become too much did This One open its eyes to find itself back in the book room. This time, retaining the feeling of consciousness of its being that This One occupied.
This One looked at itself, really looked - and was stunned. This One was no longer a black essence just floating along the land, but instead was a pure white color, purer than the white fluff from This One’s vision. This One felt and appeared to be glowing from the inside out. While looking itself over, This One noticed the pages on the floor from the deceased books. They were no longer blank; they now contained black figures in lines.
This One reached out for a book on a shelf again, and plunked one with caution. The book did not fall apart, did not flee from This One’s hands. This One opened the book with renewed hope, and the book contained the same black lines of figures. This One opened books again and again, till all the books were open and investigated, each time liberating This One’s soul.
This One became a White One, and created beautiful stories and art from its tears as a Shadow. This One continues to create in the book room, at the end of the last corridor, at the top of the winding stairs in Langley High School – Home of the Saxons.
White fluff was falling from the sky, but the sky was not black, it was a grayish-blue. There appeared to be a yellow orb behind the sky. The white fluff collected on the ground. This One was very confused, but then smelled the scent again, the smoky one. A rush of feeling awakened the Shadows numbed brain. This One did not know what to respond to first: the cold feet, the dried lips, the withering hands, or the pained ears, for it had never experienced such a feeling before. This One whirled around in confusion …then stopped. The feeling vanished as soon as they appeared. This One was being to feel scared, and even more frightened upon realizing that This One had never experienced “fear” before – had never experienced anything.
The yellow orb from behind the sky grew larger, growing closer. This One did not run, duck, nor blink. The yellow orb did not appear unfriendly, and was just as mesmerizing, if not more, than the first time This One glanced at the book room. The yellow orb broke through the gray, blue screen are enveloped the Shadow. The Shadow did not move, not because it did not want to, but because it could not.
The senses were coming back, the warmth on the inside, the consciousness of feet and hands and ears and lips. But the feeling was not painful, just one of awareness. The warm grew until it became hot. This One did not resist nor fight off the warmth, but welcomed it. Only when it began to become too much did This One open its eyes to find itself back in the book room. This time, retaining the feeling of consciousness of its being that This One occupied.
This One looked at itself, really looked - and was stunned. This One was no longer a black essence just floating along the land, but instead was a pure white color, purer than the white fluff from This One’s vision. This One felt and appeared to be glowing from the inside out. While looking itself over, This One noticed the pages on the floor from the deceased books. They were no longer blank; they now contained black figures in lines.
This One reached out for a book on a shelf again, and plunked one with caution. The book did not fall apart, did not flee from This One’s hands. This One opened the book with renewed hope, and the book contained the same black lines of figures. This One opened books again and again, till all the books were open and investigated, each time liberating This One’s soul.
This One became a White One, and created beautiful stories and art from its tears as a Shadow. This One continues to create in the book room, at the end of the last corridor, at the top of the winding stairs in Langley High School – Home of the Saxons.