Dylan Sparse
Oct 11th, 2002, 09:41:09 PM
"Ma'am, we need the child."
"No... No I changed my mind, I want to keep him."
"He was never yours to keep."
"He's my son!"
"Ma'am he was never your son... From the moment the government authorized his conception he was theirs. They were just a little late in collecting him."
Struggling sounds... Large hands scooping him up... The smell of crisp material...
"Surely their not going to put him in the program! He's not like the others, he can't--"
"Can't see, we know. We'll find a suitable home for him."
"Then why not here! What could be more suitable than with his parents?"
"Ma'am, that's not an option."
*******
He was always in the dark. It scared him but there was never a way out. Only voices, and sharp pricks that made his eyes hurt. He couldn't see what they were doing, who they were... And then he was falling into the black, falling, falling...
"Ahhagh!"
Dylan sat up immediatly, blinked. He didn't bother to turn on a light, it didn't do any good.
"Just a dream..."
His dreams were always filled with words, feelings... Never pictures. Just an endless sea of darkness. Sometimes being blind scared him.
Sitting up, Dylan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and groped for the bedside table. He found it and using it was a guide to the wall, found the closet. He counted, one, two, three... These were his black pants. Four, five, six, seven... A jacket, jean. Deftly pulling the clothes on Dylan carefully walked back to the table and grasped the cane that was there. He felt around the tabletop for his wallet and key and then exited the small hotel room. It was simply a matter of remembering and using the cane to find his way to the outside street.
Whether it was day or night Dylan knew not. But he needed a walk. They usually helped to clear his mind.
"Carpe Diem."
Seize the day. Or night. The familiar phrase, a ritual before he "struck out" brought a smile to his thin face. And so he put one foot in front of the other and walked.
"No... No I changed my mind, I want to keep him."
"He was never yours to keep."
"He's my son!"
"Ma'am he was never your son... From the moment the government authorized his conception he was theirs. They were just a little late in collecting him."
Struggling sounds... Large hands scooping him up... The smell of crisp material...
"Surely their not going to put him in the program! He's not like the others, he can't--"
"Can't see, we know. We'll find a suitable home for him."
"Then why not here! What could be more suitable than with his parents?"
"Ma'am, that's not an option."
*******
He was always in the dark. It scared him but there was never a way out. Only voices, and sharp pricks that made his eyes hurt. He couldn't see what they were doing, who they were... And then he was falling into the black, falling, falling...
"Ahhagh!"
Dylan sat up immediatly, blinked. He didn't bother to turn on a light, it didn't do any good.
"Just a dream..."
His dreams were always filled with words, feelings... Never pictures. Just an endless sea of darkness. Sometimes being blind scared him.
Sitting up, Dylan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and groped for the bedside table. He found it and using it was a guide to the wall, found the closet. He counted, one, two, three... These were his black pants. Four, five, six, seven... A jacket, jean. Deftly pulling the clothes on Dylan carefully walked back to the table and grasped the cane that was there. He felt around the tabletop for his wallet and key and then exited the small hotel room. It was simply a matter of remembering and using the cane to find his way to the outside street.
Whether it was day or night Dylan knew not. But he needed a walk. They usually helped to clear his mind.
"Carpe Diem."
Seize the day. Or night. The familiar phrase, a ritual before he "struck out" brought a smile to his thin face. And so he put one foot in front of the other and walked.