Going Blind
It was a rainy autumn day and the cold leaves stuck to the sidewalk like plaster. The trees swayed back and forth noisily and thunder shook the ground. Amara looked at all of this with contempt.
"It looks like the color has bled out of everything," she stated from the comfort of her house.
"Maybe the color has bled away to make room for new colors?" suggested Grandmother.
"Maybe," said Amara tonelessly, "but I don't think so." The glum mood of the day snuck under her skin in a way that annoyed her. "I have got to get out of here," she realized as she left the room.
Amara went to her bedroom, opening the door to the blurry mess that was her life. She sat down at the computer, squinting to see the beautiful colors of her autumn tree background. It kept swirling in and out of her vision. She tried to focus on her bookshelf against the opposite wall, but could see almost nothing. She could feel the world slipping and sliding around her. So Amara dealt with this as she had dealt with all her problems, she put her earbuds in and lay down on the bed, slowly falling into that place between sleep and wake.
Hours later, Amara's grandmother shook her awake. "Sweetheart, you have to get up now. It's time for dinner."
Amara panicked when she couldn't see her grandmother. She caught her breath and her vision cleared. Then, she slowly headed down the stairs to eat, her feet guiding her on the familiar route. She was finding her way around the house well until she reached her grandfather's latest building project. She fell, tumbling over onto the floor. Her head hit the floor and she curled into the fetal position, not knowing if she could stand and walk to the table. All Amara knew was blackness, and she could not see the walls that were the color of warm cream. She could not see the dark wood floor or her grandparents' loving faces leaning over her.
"Are you okay?" her grandfather's loving voice penetrated her haze.
"No." It took all of Amara's strength not to snap at her grandmother, even though it wasn't her fault. Amara had no idea what was going on, but she was not ready to escape the cocoon of her own arms, protecting her and holding her. "No, I'm not okay. I can't see!" Amara screamed and began crying noisily. She knew that her grandparents were staring down at her, not quite sure what to do. She could feel the pieces of her already dysfunctional life flying away from her.
"We should take her to the hospital, darling." Amara's grandfather said quietly. "She needs medicine."
"She will be fine," Amara's grandmother said. "I will go to the store for more food and some painkillers. Stay here, and don't take her to those meddlesome doctors!" Amara could hear her grandmother leave the house. "Your grandmother doesn't know what she is talking about. Let's go to the hospital, pumpkin," his kind voice spoke in the blackness again. Her grandfather gathered her in his arms, and left as well. He settled her in the backseat of his car.
A couple minutes later, she was lifed again. She could hear people moving all around her, and the steady noises of her small town hospital. Her grandfather handed her off to a doctor.
The next thing Amara remembered was a doctor saying, "I'm sorry, sir, but Amara has gone..." He broke off as my grandmother's screech filled the air.
"I told you not to go to the hospital. They are just going to make her worse, the way they did her mother. You've killed her!" She started sobbing into her husband's arms.
The doctor raised his voice over her noisy crying to say, "Amara has gone blind, sir. I'm afraid she will never see again."