Burst #15: Invisible (My Second-Year-a-Versary! XD)
Posted May 24th, 2013 by Cherrybomb
I joined on 5/5/2011 so this is really quite late. But oh well. :D
THANKS: To everyone on Kidpub, to everyone who's ever commented on my stuff(whether it be a short "nice!" or a thoughtful long comment(coughcough Raindrops you're epic :D)), and to the people who've given me CC because I would have never improved without you. :D
THANKS SO MUCH KIDPUB! :D
(unedited obviously. The prompt was about if you became invisble, from a wish a genie granted you or something. XD)
I suddenly realized, perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all...
I walked on the sidewalk towards home, looking at the ground in deep thought. So lost was I in my thoughts, I accidently bumped into someone, an old man. He cursed, shook his cane as though it was it's fault, and then hobbled on. The word 'sorry' was frozen on my lips, because I knew he couldn't see me.
"Boo!" I yelled out half-heartedly at a child sucking on a lollipop to my right. She jumped, startled, then darted away towards her mother impatiently waiting for her.
Pranking wasn't fun anymore. Not even if I did elaborate pranks. It always felt controlled, or repetitive, no longer a highlight of my invisible life.
I continued walking towards home, until I came upon a bench. It was just that really- a bench sitting forlornly on a lonely tuft of parched grass in a shady corner of the park, but something pulled me to it. I sat down on the bench, feeling the rough texture of decades of carved names on the seating, and suddenly realized I wasn't the only one there. A young girl sat besides me on the bench, doodling in a silver covered notebook. She was smiling as she drew, and something about the essence of her smile told me she knew someone was sitting besides her. I watched her draw, and made out a dark figure sitting on a lightly drawn bench besides another figure-who was drawn very lightly, almost invisible against the paper.
It would be a wonderful thing to see the world around me, she writes, in tiny but perfect cursive lettering across the bottom of her drawing.
She turns to me, smiling, and pushes away a strand of hair that has fallen across her face.
I realize, as I stare into her murky eyes, that she is blind.
It would be nice, but I am still glad. I can see the invisible, by hearing, by touch. I am cursed with being blind, but some curses are a blessing, she writes. Her hand-writing is even better than mine.
People avoid me because they know I'm blind. She writes. I think, people avoid me because they don't know I'm there.
What they don't know is that sometimes, when you're in the middle of everything, and yet not a part of it, of them, you see things they don't. You hear things they don't. You know things they don't, things that are happening right under their noses. You see the things they can't see, the things they're blind to.
I smile. I nod, and wonder if the whisper of wind made by my movement is heard from her. Then, still smiling, she slips the covers of her notebook together, places her pencil behind her ear, and walks away from the bench. She whispers, and I think I have never heard a more peaceful voice.
"If only everyone took the time to look, then they would see as well."
And I think, I think, I think I can be happy with how I am. I think I can be happy with being invisble to the world, because they aren't the ones invisible to me.
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