Loss Of Sight

The first day of my life as a blind man was an interesting one by far. It had all started out regularly enough, I woke up, got out of bed and began to make my way across to the curtains to let the light of the day in. My bedroom was usually dark you see, as I live in a well lit neighbourhood and it would often make it nightmare to sleep at night. I grabbed hold of the curtain as usual, and whisked it open to see the day. Only to my surprise I saw nothing, no shred of light, no glimmer of daylight, not even a harsh glow of a neon sign.

I began to wonder if I’d simply woken up in the middle of the night, and by some coincidence there had been a power cut, causing this irregular affair. I turned to check the time on my bedside clock, before realising again that it too used electricity, and it’d be of no help. I left my bedroom and went out to the kitchen to try and work out what was going on. I knew my home well enough, so at the time I figured nothing was amiss other than it being night and a power cut being to blame, as It seemed the only logical answer.

I felt the kitchen sink on the worktop, and knelt down to open the cupboard underneath to fetch some candles and matches. I placed a small tea candle on the work top above, found a box of matches and began to strike one to light the candle. It took me a second to get it the right way round and to strike it on the side of the box, but I finally heard the match ignite and the heat warm my fingers. Now this is where things began to puzzle me, as I stood in the dark, holding a match in front of my face, and being unable to see a thing. It felt peculiar to say the least. I shook it out, lit another, but it was the same issue. I brought the match close to my face to check it was definitely lit, and it was, as I began to singe my eyebrows and the tips of my fringe.

Now I was alarmed, as the truth started to appear. I made my way to my living room window, undoing the latch I slid it open and stuck my head out into the outside world. I could hear birds singing songs of the morning, car engines revving past, loud music playing from the trendy coffee shops opposite my block of flats, a general chatter of day to day life in the city. I could smell the strong odour of the coffees brewing alongside the fresh, crisp delights of spring in bloom.

I withdrew my head back into my flat, everything still as dark as it had been. I prayed I was still asleep and it was just a wicked dream, but after sitting alone in utter darkness for at least an hour, I knew it to be true. I was blind. I had lost something most dear to me, yet something I always took for granted. I hit myself over the head several times, in anger and in a vain attempt to restore my sight, but it was hopeless. I got up, felt my way back to my bedroom, this time much more cautiously, as if knowing I was blind made it more of a danger to move about.

I felt for my bed, and collapsed back into it. I reached for the handset of the phone and called the doctor, telling him who to see about getting into my flat, and where to find me. I lay back in my bed in silence, waiting for the confirmation that my life was now only half as enjoyable.