Thursday, January 27, 2011

Story: Realization Four

New realization. This time it's about perception again, but in another way. I don't remember how I got the idea. This time, there's nothing much to say I think.

Realization Four

During his lifetime, he sometimes omitted a detail or two. During the earlier parts, that is. Ever since a specific breaking point, ever since it dawned upon him that he was missing something, he began the lengthy process of realization.

"Can you tell me what the time is?" somebody once asked him.

"Sure," he replied and his eyes began scanning the room for a clock. He recalled it had always hung on the wall in front of him.

"I forgot my glasses at home so I don't see very well," the same somebody explained while he was helplessly searching for the clock.

The silence was getting awkward, the request not possible to conform to. Eventually, he responded with his findings, oblivious to the condition that had struck him since the very beginning.

"I can't find any way to tell you. No clock, no cell, no thing that would hold the information I'm afraid."

"Really?" the short-sighted person wondered. "What about that round ball on the wall before us? I'm pretty certain it shows the time but as I said, my eyes aren't that sharp. Quite the opposite in fact."

"I…" he stuttered, scanning the wall once more yet seeing nothing more than blank white. "There isn't anything on the wall." He wasn't aware of the advancing state of his ails at that moment thus it was no wonder that he was confident in what he stated.

"Don't make fun of me. I'm dead sure the clock is on the wall. Now would you be so kind and tell me?"

"As I said, the wall is completely empty. Not even a crack."

"Well then," the short-sighted person said in annoyance and promptly left the room, muttering curses.

Even after the experience, he still didn't understand. He thought that he became a victim of a foolish prank. However, the doubts didn't stay behind that long. He hadn't watched the short-sighted person leave the room, but when he rose up to depart, he found himself in a bizarre situation.

The room had no doors. He was pretty certain the person had left through some, but no matter what he did, he couldn't see any. Recalling his coming to the room, his eyes glanced in the direction of the supposed entrance only to find a wall was blocking his path.

It was when the breaking point came. That day, he had to leave the room through a window. The room was in the fifth floor. It was a miracle he broke but a single leg.

Doctors were of no help, for no man could treat erroneous perception as it was no disease. Small objects, he soothed himself with those two words. Until his house began missing. He could see people disappear behind the former location of its entrance, he could see people standing where windows once had been, but he just couldn't see it.

He walked through the grass that stood on the former foundations of his house. He sensed and knew the house was now just a memory in his world. Yet others could enter and leave his house. Others' perception wasn't missing out details.

He was aware of the fact that the clock was ticking. He realized time was against him. With each next detail missing, he grew all the more desperate. He feared that the day when he wouldn't see anything would come sooner or later.

And then it did. He finally saw how nothing looked like. No matter where he went, there it was. He wasn't even sure if he was walking or falling. At least the air was present. But what about food, drink and environment? What about people? Now that they were not, how could he be sure what was true and what existed? What was?

It was when he realized. There had never been anything.

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