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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue... cc&d magazine (v204) (the January 2010 Issue) This is also available from our printer as a a $7.47 paperback book (5.5" x 8.5") perfect-bound w/ b&w pages

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The Black Morning

K. Agnihotri

    At first, all I can remember about my dream is that I had been screaming. I had been screaming my lungs out. Something had just happened that made my blood run cold and my heart skip a beat. And then I woke up, and instantly forgot what had made me scream.
    But a funny thing happened when I woke up – it was still pitch black. I couldn’t see anything at all. It was my alarm that had woken me up, so I knew it must be seven in the morning.
    I have a bad headache this morning, just as I had been expecting. I drank too much last night. More than I have ever drunk, I think. Luckily, a good friend drove me home. I had walked upstairs to my bedroom and fallen asleep with my shoes on. There was nothing I wanted right now more than to get to the bathroom and puke my guts out. My head was spinning and my stomach kept churning. I don’t know if my girlfriend slept over here or not. I can’t remember.
    “Hello,” I shout. “Is there anyone here?”
    There is no answer. And then, for the first time, I realize that there is something seriously wrong with my eyes. It feels like there is something still covering them – keeping them sealed. Slowly, I place my hands over my eyes. Imagine my shock when I find that my eyelids are still completely covering my eyes. My eyes are still closed! I desperately try to pull my eyelids back, again and again. I use every muscle in my face to pull them up. Finally, I use my fingers to try to pry them open. It’s all useless.
    I slowly move two of my fingers up to my eyes and carefully run them up and down the eyelids. Although I can feel my eyelashes, I can’t feel any kind of seam where the eyelid meets my skin. It is as if the skin on my face has grown over my eyes! I begin to panic and immediately jump off the bed. I have only taken two steps when I stub my toe against what I imagine must be the leg of a chair. I stop in my tracks and wait for the pain to subside. Slowly, slowly, I walk towards the door and step out. How strange one’s own room can become in the dark.
    For a few minutes I just stand there like a fool. Nothing like this has ever happened before; I have absolutely no idea what to do. It appears as if I am in the house all alone. Finally, I decide that the smartest thing to do would be to find my phone and call someone over here. I begin walking down the hallway towards the living room. I am walking slowly, but walls and chairs seem to appear in front of me out of nowhere. I hit my feet twice against furniture on the way to the living room.
    At last, I reach the living room. I walk up to the table and begin feeling around for the phone. My elbow bumps into a glass and something spills all over my feet. I ignore the liquid, and I finally find the phone on the carpet underneath the table. Feeling around for the buttons with my thumb, I attempt to dial my girlfriend’s number.
    “Hello?”
    Success!
    “Hi,” I reply. “It’s me. I just woke up.”
    “Hey! Good morning! How are you feeling?”
    “I have a headache.”
    “Well, big surprise there!” she laughs. “The way you were carrying on last night...”
    “Listen, right now is not the best time to talk about this. I have to tell you something.”
    “Go on, then.”
    “I can’t see. I opened my eyes this morning and-”
    “Hello?”
    “Hello?” I shout back. “Can you hear me?”
    “Are you there? I can’t hear you...”
    And, just then, the phone goes silent. I am puzzled at first, but then I realize that I haven’t charged the battery for nearly a week. I place the phone onto a table. There is nothing else I can do. I do not know my neighbours very well – they are an old couple and they are rarely at home (they are usually at their son’s house, not too far from here). Should I go to someone else’s house? I certainly don’t want to ring a complete stranger’s doorbell and declare myself blind.
    Finally, I decide to go to the neighbourhood clinic. I walk towards the door, and this time I don’t bump into anything. I open the door, only to find that it is freezing cold outside. My lungs are so shocked by the cold air that they seem to shrivel up. I quickly slam the door shut.
    The clinic is five or six blocks down the street. Child’s play on a summer’s day, but not something to be taken lightly when you have woken up blind on a winter morning. If I get lost and start stumbling around, I might get frostbite. Even worse, I could slip on ice and break my head open on the sidewalk. What should I do?
    Well, there is only one thing to be done. I grab my keys (they are always on a little hook right beside the door) and lock the door. I quickly run towards my car, start it up, and hope inside. The whole thing goes off without a hitch. I can feel the gear stick underneath my fingers. For a few seconds, I contemplate the whole situation.
    There is no way I can walk to the clinic – it is far too cold for that. I cannot call anyone, because my phone has just died. And there are only two houses that neighbour mine – one couple are not home and the other couple are the sort that would not be up before noon. There is no point staying at home. I will have trouble feeding myself. Besides, it’s possible that no one comes over for another two or three days.
    I can walk out in the middle of the street and just scream my head off until someone comes and helps me, but for obvious reasons I would like to avoid making such a scene. So, the decision has been made for me – I will stay in my car and drive to the clinic. I grab the gear stick and carefully push it down one notch to put it from ‘Park’ into ‘Drive’. I let go of the brake and the car gently rolls forward. I am sure that I can keep the car on the right side of the street, but I am worried about hitting a little kid. I move forward as slow as a snail.
    It is hard to tell exactly how far I have gone. I cannot be going faster than five or ten miles per hour. Luckily, I do not have to make any turns on the way to the clinic. Occasionally, I hear some people walking on the sidewalk.
    Suddenly, I hear loud honking behind me. The car continues honking as I sense it pull up beside me.
    “What the hell are you doing?” someone shouts as the car drives past me and speeds away.
    I cannot imagine how strange I must look sitting behind the wheel with my eyes closed. I begin to have second thoughts about this, but the car continues inching forward. Finally, I pull up in front of the intersection. It must be a red light right now, because I can hear the cars whizzing by right and left in front of me. Only when it is completely quiet does my foot let go of the brake. The car inches forward. No one honks at me. A little more confident, I press the accelerator and drive on.
    After crossing the intersection, I pull up to the curb, driving slowly until I feel the tire bump the sidewalk. I step out of the car and lock it. It doesn’t sound as if there is anyone else around at this time. I walk onto the sidewalk and feel for the steps that lead up to the clinic. I am able to walk up to the door of the clinic without a problem, and I open it and walk in.
    “Hello,” I hear a woman’s voice call out, “can I help you, sir?”
    I do not say anything.
    “Are you alright?” she asks.
    “I can’t open my eyes,” I finally whisper. “I can’t see anything. Please help me.”
    I hear her get up from her desk and walk towards me. I feel a thumb gently running over my eyes.
    “I can’t believe it! How did this happen? Are they glued shut? Did someone play a prank on you?”
    “No... I don’t think so,” I reply.
    “Well, this is an emergency. I’ll take you straight to the doctor.”
    I feel her grab my arm and slowly lead me inside. She places her other arm on my shoulder and thankfully I do not bump into anything else. She knocks loudly on the door in front of us.
    “Dr. Armstrong! Dr. Armstrong!”
    I hear the door open, and a loud voice booms out.
    “Yes, what is it? I told you not to –”
    “Er... sorry, Doctor. But this gentleman here... oh, it’s so awful...”
    “Well, what’s the matter with him? Why are his eyes closed?”
    “I can’t open them!” I shout. “I just woke up like this! Please, do something!”
    For the next ten minutes, I sit in a chair while Dr. Armstrong tries all sorts of things to see what the problem is. He shines a light into my eyes. He tries to lubricate my eyelids. From the tone of his voice, it seems that he thinks this whole thing is some sort of a practical joke.
    “That’s enough,” I say. “What’s happening to me? Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
    “No. And, quite honestly, I don’t know what to do.”
    It is rare to find a doctor who will admit his ignorance. Still, his answer scares me a little.
    “What am I going to do? Please, try anything?”
    “Well...” he mumbles. “I could slice your eyelids open. It would be a very simple procedure. It’ll be over in ten seconds.”
    My mouth goes dry.
    “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll give you something, it’ll be completely painless.”
    “Alright,” I hear myself telling him, “I’ll try it.”
    I hear Dr. Armstrong moving around as needles and vials clink somewhere beside me.
    “You’ll feel a quick sting.”
    The needle enters my arm. I stop worrying. I see my thoughts floating in front of me, and soon I lose myself in them. I am floating peacefully, somewhere far above...
    ...and then I wake up. I hear Dr. Armstrong’s steady voice bringing me out of my sleep.
    “Can you hear me?”
    “Y-yes...” I mumble.
    “The operation was successful.”
    There is no light in my eyes, not even a dull grey. Everything is pitch black, just like it was before.
    “Are you in pain? You... you still can’t see me?”
    “No...”
    “...How is that possible?”
    “I still can’t see you... I can’t see anything.”
    And just then, I begin to scream.

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