Short Stories

by DeckuZora

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I never knew my mother. Not in a reasonable sense. In fact, all I knew was her warmth, her voice, her touch and her breath. I did not even learn her name. Nor did she give me one. I was darling, and baby to her. And to me she was mother. My words, I learned their sounds and pronunciation. I learned to let them pass my lips. I learned to form them with careful precision. But I never knew my mother. She never existed beyond what I’ve said. I never knew my mother. I was born in the dark.

No, I only know feeling and sound, and some smells and maybe taste. My mother taught me what she could. By the time I was long enough to retain true memory, she had already left the quiet corner by my side. I do not know where she had gone. Just that her breath no longer came. Her voice no longer came. Her touch no longer came. Something cold took its place, and I no longer venture in that direction. I sit still. I sit here and sometimes I call out.

There are others; other voices. They call to me. They taught me more than what my mother ever did. Some spoke of color, and tried to explain for me and other confused voices. Some spoke of light, apparently sorely missed. Some screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And screamed. Eventually those voices would stop.

When I talk to the voices, they often spoke back. They gave me a name. Terry, as I have become known. Some of them already had names. Some never had. I’ve still been able to recognize the voices though. Never am I lost to who is talking unless it is a voice that is completely new. Many speak of strange things that I have no understanding of. I listen attentively but get lost often.

The most confusing are definitely those who had what is called “sight”. Many of the voices appear to have had it, but are unable to tell me what “sight” is, nor why they no longer have it. They claim it allows one to “see” all the shapes and colors of an object, but I know none of that. I do not understand this “see” thing, nor what it has to offer. Nor does there seem to be any reason for it. All the other voices hear appear not to have “sight”. The previously sighted ones call it blindness or dark. Neither of which I know.

I like to talk though. There is nothing much else to do. When I do not inquire of the world, I do sometimes try to comfort those around me. Often the screamers will not cease their babble. Often I and deep voice of strange inflection try to calm them. It is often difficult. It is often thankless. Sometimes I cannot communicate with them at all as I do not understand them. Often this is the worst.

“Never sure why this bread tastes so terrible, but I think I lost a tooth today,” comes Erin.

“Soften it with the water firs’, it’ll help son, ah promise.” Jimmy.

There are voices.

“Twenty three, forty six, sixty nine, ninety two, one fifteen, one three eight, one sixty one-.“

“AWH, SHUT THAT LOONEY UP! NOT GOING THROUGH THIS SHIT AGAIN!” Some voice who refused to give his name – post screamer.

Yeah, they’re talking again.

“HELP! PLEASE GOD! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN YOUR FAITHF-,“ a screamer.

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

The peace and quiet I had been thinking in has been removed. I cannot get it back. The screams and yells cloud my voice inside as all these voices press into my self inside. I lack words for these. Nearby – I hear the familiar clack of the water and bread tray at the wall. I have been unable to drag myself over however. It hurts to move, and I tend to let out my insides a lot more than I can remember.

I speak up. Or try to and fail. I cannot seem to make more than a –gghgh sound for some reason. I try again, but that feeling intensifies and I let loose a similar sound to the screamer.

“Hey, Terry, you alright?” comes the deep voice.

“Yes-,” is all I can actually manage. Deep voice doesn’t say anything and the screams continue as well as the strange incessant counting. Or I think it’s counting. It starts as counting but by now I’m not sure what it is.

“Nine hundred and –,” I am still unsure. I claw around for my floor spot, and drag myself to it. Oddly, it’s more difficult than I remember. I also let out sounds I don’t remember as air leaves my lips and my lower area that hurts. Reaching it, I try and use my breath until it slows down.

“Hey,” I call for deep. His response comes slowly as always.

“Terry..?”

“Have you-, have you ever seen the sun? The thing the screamers always ask for?”

More silence before a slow and quiet response.

“I have…”

“T-tell me about it,” and as I heave out, I must admit I listened. I listened quietly to deep’s tale of the “sun”.

“Imagine if you had, in your hands, your mother’s warmth. Imagine it was like your bread in your hands, but constantly warm. Imagine it was the complete opposite of this endless darkn- well, what you know in front of you that you cannot touch, taste or smell or hear. Imagine that thing was the opposite of the floor, and beyond your grasp. Imagine it was warm. Imagine it could fill your very soul. That is the sun, Terry.”

I am still not sure how to place this information, but as honestly as I could surmise it, “That sounds… nice.”

“Is that all you wish to know about the sun?” As always, deep voice wastes little on words.

I am dissatisfied, but this growing unbelievable feeling won’t let me gasp for more. I struggle with it a bit, it’s almost as if water was missed three times in a row, but impossibly more noticeable. As I fight it down, I gasp for another breath until my breath goes slow again.

“Hey, tell me more…” I fight for it.

“That’s hard, you are aware.”

“Please.”

“…” He’s gone fairly quiet, but I still feel his existence. I hear a slow breath, barely audible in the din of screams from no-name, screamer and Jimmy. I can hear Erin crying. I no longer hear the strange one.

“The sun,” I hear deep voice start, “is really a ball of gas, like the breath from your lips, heated beyond anything you can imagine, and yet so far away, it cannot be uncomfortable. It provides us comfort. In fact, it reaches us still, even here. It warms us, it soothes us. It clears our thoughts.”

I’m now very aware that the place has gotten strangely quiet. Now I hear another nameless speak up.

“Hey, Samuel Jackson over there is talking about the sun…”

“I… I really miss the sun. I don’ even know what day it tis anymore.” I can hear Jimmy.

“Sprechen sie Deutsch.” a new voice I do not understand.

Deep resumes quietly:

“I never loved the sun… In fact, I avoided it. I didn’t like being out. I preferred the indoors. I really never appreciated it while I had the chance. What I wouldn’t give… What I wouldn’t do… to see it above me once more. To see daylight once more! The sky! My children! My wife… I’d take it all back if to see it all once more before I die…”

He’s now beyond my understanding. I no longer have knowledge of what he’s trying to explain. Never before have I heard him speak so despairingly. Soon others in the area – I hear their tears. I slowly attempt to speak once more.

“I-I’m sure we will all see the sun… I never have seen anything… But I’m sure we can.” I let out in a voice almost unlike my own. I struggle with it, attempting to push it from my hurt lower self.

“What would you know? You never saw it, you aren’t like the rest of us. Keep your stupid thoughts to yourself, you brat.” Unnamed calls out and I hear an angry hawking sound from his direction.

“I… I don’t know why you would give up on something so wonderful sounding. If I can hope to see something like this, then how could you not, when you have had it? Do you really have no desire to see it again… do you no longer care?” It hurts…

“You little shit-stain, you don’t get what I’ve lost, I’ve lost the light, I’ve lost everything I ever had! What would you know!? You know nothing, you’ve lost nothing; have nothing! You can just take and take and take forever, because you started with nothing!” He roars.

“I… still wish for you to have it back… What you’ve lost… Because you seem to wish for it so… You seem to want it so… I-I want my mother back… I know what it is to lose something… I don’t have her any longer…” I begin to cry myself. It hurts… I know what they mean now when the screamers scream it hurts again and again…

“Well I…” He stops. He lets out a raging yell, and quiets down. It is quiet again, other than a few breaths and some whimpering.

“I really… Really hope you all… Find your sun… I know what it’s like to not have something you yearn for… so please, I cannot bear to be told it’s not important now…”

“Terry…” Erin’s voice lets its sympathy known. I let out more sobs. It really hurts.

It is silent. Very silent. Not even the Screamer, nor the Counter speak. I do not know why, but this quiet gave me words to my head. Just, quiet. Quiet. Quiet. But the words in my head never changed. I want to see the sun. I wish to see this thing that I’ve heard so much about I want to see the sun… I want to see.

“I hear something.” Gozzy, who has never talked since she arrived and introduced herself, whom I also sincerely had believed she had followed mother, had talked.

But I heard it too. A low rumbling sound. Like when I needed bread… A scratching sound - a sound that shook me - that moved me away from my floor. Never had I experienced this.

“What in God’s hallowed name is that?!”

“It’s light! The ceiling! No! I think it’s caving in!“

“No! I can hear people up there! Someone’s coming down! By the gods, I- I think someone’s come to get us!”

I am assaulted with a something. Something I cannot explain. But, suddenly, I understand what light is… What color is… What shape is…. These are hands. I can… See… But…. My insides… no longer…. Hurt… Sadness swallows me… I realize I will never see more than I have now… I... am glad to have finally seen… light….

I close my eyes – wet tears dripping over my cheeks - and return to the darkness that I finally understand.

“I’m… so happy-…”