The Writer (very long)

The Writer1

At first there was only complete blackness. She knew why she was here but did not particularly know where here was. That would come, if she were patient enough. Listening carefully in the darkness she thought she caught a small sigh from above and ahead. Cocking her head slightly to hear better she almost missed the small dot of light that began sweeping the blackness in front of her. Moving her soft auburn hair out of her eyes she watched the dot, as it swung left to right through the darkness. Resting her arms on the seats beside her and crossing her ankles she watched the light as it searched the darkness. 2

Finally the light rested in one spot. Then, pulling back slowly it began to grow until the silhouette of the writer could be seen. She smiled a sad caring smile and watched the scene unfold before her. The light expanded until the head and shoulders of the writer could be clearly seen. He was sitting on a large stage with his back to the empty seats of the auditorium. Before him, silent and empty sat a small computer.  As the screen lit up illuminating the writer from the front the dot of light shrunk and disappeared completely. There in front of the empty screen, with the empty audience behind, the writer sat deep in troubled thought. 3

For a time nothing happened as the writer stared at the dimly lit computer. Then his shoulders slumped inward, his head lowered until it touched the hard-drive of the computer, and he was wracked with silent sobs of pain. There was no caring whether others heard him, only the his outpouring of loss. For weeks he had sat at his writing station and in his mind the beautiful conversations that had always been there were gone. The words that had stirred so much emotion in his readers would no longer come to him. This deafness, for a man who lived with a deep internal conversation all his life, was overwhelming. At first he thought he could manage as long as the images of the scenes would continue. He worked hard on the descriptions of the areas in which his characters lived and played. Then he watched as the wind, the sun, and the rain slowly washed his world away. Even the images were now forbidden him. Blind and deaf to his world he sat crushed, unable to go on. 4

Her eyes burned with his loss. Her heart ached with his sorrow and pain and the tears trickled down her beautiful face as she watched.  She could go to him now and ease his pain but it was not time yet. He had more searching to do before her intervention could completely heal him. If she went now then the healing process would only fix the temporary problems. If he was to heal completely then she had to wait.  But waiting was so hard, especially when one was in pain. His pain was so great a part of her she could no longer stand to be so close. Closing her eyes her head slumped towards her chest. Then she gently faded until the writer sat alone in an empty world of his own making, a world with no images, no sound, and no audience. 5

The Child6

The accident had left the child alive and for that the family had been thankful. She had just enjoyed her sixth birthday and all the neighbours' kids had come to play for the day and to share in the moment. There had been plenty of juice and cake and then games aplenty for all the children. The parents sat on the sidelines and made small talk, smiling at the children when observation was called for. Many of the day’s distractions had a homemade look about them but that was to be expected for a family of limited means. For the children though, it would be just another memory for the summer. But for young Claire it would be the last day she would enjoy the world with all her senses. Perhaps if she had known what the night would bring she would have treated the day different. Then again, maybe not, after all she did seem to be having fun. 7

The accident itself was really rather stupid. There was a fall and stairs had been involved. For a time both parents blamed themselves and for a time when stronger emotions were involved they blamed each other but in the end it really didn't matter. What mattered was that Claire was alive and all well. Then the headaches began and the doctors suggested some tests and then some pills to ease the discomfort. But, the headaches didn't go away. What followed were more tests and some more pills until one day the pain finally stopped. 8

Claire had finally fallen asleep in the early morning hours and for once enjoyed a deep sleep. She awoke in the morning to no pain and a wonderful deep silence. Keeping her eyes closed she snuggled in her bed enjoying the sensations for a few moments longer. She felt so relaxed finally after months of discomfort. Picturing in her mind her small gray cat she stretched her own small body in one large curve, holding it a moment to allow all the muscles to feel alive on this great morning. Then slowly opening her eyes she started in confusion. She could feel the light from the window but the room remained totally black. There was no sound and no light. 9

The shock of the discovery was too much for Claire to take and she fainted, falling from her bed. The solid thud of the body woke her parents from their room and they, knowing their daughters current illness, rushed from their own bed to find her unconscious on the floor. The ambulance came very quickly and the attendants were very professional in both the handling of the patient and the parents. Soon the small child was quickly on route to the hospital and the parents were carefully behind having taken a moment to dress and to seek a brief moment of comfort in each other's arms before heading to the hospital. Both knew in their hearts they would need to be strong for the other. 10

Claire had regained consciousness in the ambulance and immediately panicked. She could feel the straps holding her down and she could feel hands all over her but there was no sound and no sight to assist her in her fears. Slowly she began to realize the hands were comforting and reassuring and her fears let up a bit and she relaxed slightly. She did not know what was happening and she was very confused but she knew that someone was trying to help. 11

Claire recognized the smell of the hospital immediately. She was immediately saddened by her return there but still had the faith of the young and she relaxed further. Whatever the problem, she believed the doctors could fix it. Thinking on the bright side for a moment, at least the headaches were gone. 12

The day went by in a blur of tests. Claire could feel the needles in her arms and could feel the straps on her legs and arms to hold her secure. And always there were the calm warm hands of a woman stroking her face and hair, keeping her comforted in this time of confusion. Then, Claire could smell her parents as they entered the room, her father's musky sweat and her mother's shampoo. Their hands held her face and she could feel the drops of tears and the warmth of their cheeks against her as they both kissed her. Her mother's hand softly took hers and the tests continued. Through out the testing the touch of her mother’s hand never left.  13

Claire's father had been taken aside and had spoken with the doctors. The CAT scans had come out normal and there was no explanation for Claire's loss of hearing and sight. The best the doctor could offer was that it was perhaps a temporary set back and that Claire would regain total use. He gave hope but no reassurances.14

The Muse15

She returned again to the mind of the writer. Once again it was black and he sat motionless, all was bleak around him. She watched for a moment and then began the slow and gradual process of changing the surroundings. At first it was unperceivable, merely changing the blackness for a grayness. The muse walked away at that point and left the writer alone. Then far off in the distance could be heard the faint dripping of a single source of water, one slow drip at a time. At first he didn’t hear it and then he heard it but did not react. Finally he rose from the computer and noticed that his surrounding were slightly different. Instead of the blackness there were shades of blackness. There were no odors to startle him and no feeling to the ground beneath him, just the slow constant drip of a single drop of water. He turned back to the computer but it too was now fading into the grayness. He reached out his hands to where it was and found that it still was there but had taken the hue of everything else in this new place. That was at least comforting to know his mode of communication was still there. Keeping that in mind he began the short walk to the water source. 16

The distance was very short but the time involved in getter there seemed very long. The muse had done this to allow the writer to spend time away from that which was familiar. He needed to break the mold and then reform it before he could go on. Finally he reached the water. Sitting down at the edge he listened carefully to the single constant drip. After a while he began to see that the water was lightening up so he could see the ripples made by the falling droplet. The drop would hit, the ripples would cascade out and come to a complete stop, and then the second drip would fall. Looking up into the grayness he could not see the source of the water but that really didn’t matter. He looked back at the water and watched the drips for a while longer.17

The muse watched all this in pleasure. He was up and about and that was a good start. She nodded her head slightly and a second drip began. He didn’t realize the second drip had started as they both were timed perfectly to hit the water at the same time. They struck the surface about four inches apart and although there were two drops they didn’t distort each other’s patterns. Each drop kept its individual pattern however at the fringes where they interacted a third and forth pattern were generated. The drops remained individuals but had become greater than their parts by being in the same pool together. 18

The wave pattern continued until the pool smoothed out again and then two more drops fell. Again the writer watched but there was no light in his eyes, no realization or recognition of what he saw. He knew the drops were there but he was not seeing them. Slowly the writer got to his feet and returned to his computer. As he walked away the tears of the muse fell freer leaving the surface of the water to look like a rain struck puddle. She remained there for a long time allowing her grief to work itself free. Then as her tears dried she faded into the blackness. There was another that needed her help but she would return to this one.19

The Child20

This was a time when hospital logic played itself out to its normal conclusion. Claire's parents were not particularly well off, the hospital was short of beds, and really Claire was not particularly ill, at least not ill in a hospital sort of way. So, after two more days of tests and no news, Claire went home. She rode in the back of her parent’s car with the window partly down. Her mother sat beside her holding one hand while Claire had the other hand by the window. Her free hand played in the wind while the other lightly stroked her mother’s cool hand more calming her mother than her mother was calming her. Still it was good to have someone near. 21

When they arrived home Claire was taken to her room and placed in her bed. Moments later her cat jumped up and began rubbing against the young girl. This pleased Claire to no end and she placed one hand out for the cat to rub up against. It was a game they had played for ages and even with Claire's problems it did not matter to the cat. Finally all the excitement of the last few days caught up with Claire and she drifted off to sleep, the cat tucked firmly under her arm. For the first time in many days Claire spoke, “I love you kitty.” The cat purred even louder and buried itself even closer to the sleepy child. Claire smiled at the cat’s reaction and went to sleep. 22

Although it was daytime Claire slept soundly as though night. She was having such an interesting dream about playing with her friends. They all laughed and joked together while playing at the park. Then all about her things began to fade and go silent. She was being reminded very abruptly about her illness. She really didn’t know what else to call it. When all was finally black and silent Claire turned around slowly not wanting to move, as she could not remember exactly where she was in the park. As she turned she was very surprised to see that there was a lady standing outside the park fence watching her. The lady motioned for her to come closer. 23

“Hello Claire,” she spoke. “ I am part of your memory and when you awake I want you to remember that while you have lost your eye sight and your hearing you can still talk. Remember how the cat reacted when you spoke to it? It will be much harder for you to learn but a friend is coming to help. I will come to you now and then to see how you are doing. And Claire, she said, the conversation now coming to an end, I will need your help soon so learn quickly.”24

The lady faded and Claire was left in her black and silent playground. Her eyes while unable to see where still very functional in all other skills. She sat on her bed, hugging her pillow and cried silently to herself. 25

A little later in the day her father came into her room to see if she was all right and whether she wanted some lunch. He patted her stomach, and she replied, “Yes, please.” The sound startled him and he gave her a big hug before carrying her downstairs for her lunch. 26

Around two o’clock the doorbell rang and Claire’s mother answered it. The young girl at the door presented her card and introduced herself as Elizabeth. I am here from social services and after your acceptance I have been asked to be Claire’s teacher. Elizabeth was brought into the living room and made comfortable with a cup of tea. Claire was playing on the floor with the cat and a string while the three adults spoke. 27

“Claire is very lucky, Elizabeth, commented. She already has an understanding of language and although that understanding is limited for a six year old. It will give her the ability to learn to whatever level she wishes. I have worked as a translator for a number of deaf-blind students at the university level. You need to understand that she can do and be whatever she wishes. Additionally she is very young and that will help a great deal, as she is very susceptible to learning right now. The problem is going to be to teach her to learn using other senses than she is use to.  We will begin with Braille so she can get back to reading as quickly as possible. And then I will be trying to integrate a system of internal visualization. It is a way to expand her memory abilities and allow her to form a picture rather than memorize a thousand words. “28

“Please take what time you need to think about this, Elizabeth calmly said. And if it is alright with you I would like to introduce myself to Claire. “29

Elizabeth spoke to Claire as she approached, “Hello Claire, I am Elizabeth and I have been asked to come and be your teacher. Some of your friends will be off to school soon and I want you to be able to learn just like they are.” 30

Claire did not respond to the sound but it didn’t seem to deter Elizabeth. The cat, startled away by the approaching adult scampered away to hide under the couch. Elizabeth sat down in front of Claire and swatted the cat’s string back and forth a bit. Claire knew immediately that it was not the cat playing and she laid the string down. Very gently Elizabeth touched fingertips with Claire.  Claire responded by moving her fingers slightly. Continuing with gentle smooth movements Elizabeth lifted Claire’s hand and with one of Claire’s fingers she traced the letter “E” on her palm. 31

The two hands went back to the floor and Claire thought for a moment. Then she said in a voice just above a whisper, Elaine. Elizabeth moved her fingers back and forth on Claire’s hand. A moment later, “Edith”’ and again the fingers recognized the wrong answer. Finally Claire said, “Elizabeth”. The teacher gently raised the hand to her face again and nodded. 32

Claire responded, “Hi Elizabeth, I am Claire. “33

The Muse34

Claire was back in the playground again with her friends. She knew this time to wait for the memory woman to return. Claire even left her friends playing to go and stand by where the woman would appear. Claire sat with her back to the fence and watched her friends playing. She missed seeing everything, the clouds in the sky, the rain as it fell, her cat as it tumbled around the house. But she knew from her lessons with Elizabeth that she needed to continue seeing everything in her mind. Sitting thinking about her lessons she was startled when the park went dark. Claire remained seated while she waited for the visit.  Instead of light coming from behind her, as had happened before, there was a small bit of light coming from somewhere ahead of her. Then very slowly the grass she was sitting on became an old movie theatre seat.  Claire was no longer at the park but as this was a dream she still felt safe. Then there came the gentle touch on her fingertips. This was Elizabeth’s method of saying she was near and it helped Claire relax. 35

Claire turned to her right and found herself looking into the soft brown eyes of her visitor. At first the light brown eyes looked back at Claire and then from somewhere within tints of green began changing the eyes slightly. The eyes shone with a light of their own and once you began looking into them it was very difficult to look away. Somewhere Claire had heard that the eyes are the paths to the soul. She thought with this lady that path must be very short. 36

The Muse smiled at Claire and spoke in a soft whisper, “Thank you Claire, that was very sweet.” And she continued, “There is a man here who has a very similar problem as yours. While you have lost your sight and hearing, you have maintained your imagination. This man still has his sight and hearing but he has lost his access to his imagination. What you see around you is all that is left for him to look at.”  37

The young girl pulled her gaze away and looked up at the light on the stage. Claire could see the writer sitting at the computer, his hands hanging loose at his side. Turning back to her memory friend Claire asked, “How can I help him?”38

The reply shocked Claire as she heard, “I don’t know Claire.” Use some of your games you have learned with Elizabeth, tell him about your friends and your cat, or just be his friend. I think that is what he needs most of all, a friend.”39

Claire sat for a few moments thinking about her friend’s comments. She sighed heavily and accepted the task ahead of her. “I will try” As her friend began to fade away again Claire thought of one more question, “Is he dreaming too?” But the muse had faded away before any answer could come. 40

Clare stood and walked slowly towards the stage. She thought of all the things that Elizabeth and her had been doing. When she got to the stage she stood silently behind the man. Slowly she placed her hand on the left side of his lower back. He startled at first but didn’t move. Then as he relaxed Claire began to rub circles slowly on his back, willing him to relax. As he did she continued the movements until her hand eventually made it’s way to his hand. There she traced the letter “C”.41

The Writer42

At first the writer did not acknowledge Claire’s presence, but it did not deter her from her task. She gently stroked his hand showing him her compassion and then again retraced the letter “C”. It took four tries before he would turn to her. 43

She smiled and said softly, “Hi, I’m Claire. 44

He cocked his head slightly as though confused by her words or perhaps by her presence. “I’m Trevor, he said in a shocked voice. How did you get here? You are not one of mine.”45

Claire did not understand Trevor but that did not matter right now. It was more important for him to accept her as a friend. “You have not been happy lately Trevor and your friends are worried about you, she said. I have been asked to come and help you through this tough time.” Claire’s voice held an unusual strength that she was not normally aware of. 46

Trevor’s head drooped in submission, “I don’t write anymore, he confessed.  I have sat in front of the computer for weeks and the characters won’t come.  There are too many of them and too much responsibility involved in looking after them. I have put my very life into each of them and now I have nothing left. They have taken everything from me.” With this Trevor jumped up, startling Claire, and shouted at the empty audience behind them, “They are the worst of all.” His hand remained pointing in anger at the empty seats. “They demand and won’t leave you alone, he continued. Even thought I have written many good books and some even spectacular plays I will be remembered as a failure because I ended my career unable to write.  I hate them all and I hate myself even more for my failure. “47

Trevor paced the stage back and forth, sharp concise movements, his nervous energy coming from far within. There would be no way he could settle himself down, so Claire waited patiently. Trevor’s arms flexed and pumped as he walked. He kept his head down and refused to look into the empty audience, only at where his feet would step next. Then he stopped, his head still down but all the muscles of his body tensing for one final storm. But he could not bring it forth. Trevor collapsed on the stage, his body unable to release the pressure.  48

Claire made her way over to him and cradled his head in her lap. Ever so gently she stroked his hair and whispered to him. She softly told him about her illness and how she felt about her loss. She explained about the memory lady who had given her friendship through Elizabeth and how she had asked if Claire could help the writer. Claire had no idea if any of the information was getting through to Trevor but it really did not matter. The action of her talking seemed to be calming. Claire spoke about her summer friends and as she did she realized that she could no longer hear her own words and with that the stage began to get dark and fade away from her. Claire was saddened by her short time with Trevor and she waited to awake in her own room, but that did not occur. She hadn’t left, only returned to her current lack of senses.49

Sitting now in darkness and silence Claire continued telling Trevor about her life. He rested and eventually drifted off to sleep. She could tell this by the settling of his muscles and the deepening of his breathing. Claire continued to talk, expressing her frustrations about the unfairness of her illness and how much she hated the doctors for being unable to heal her. And then, in a moment of enlightenment, Claire stated how much she hated her parents for allowing the fall to happen. It shocked her in its abrupt deliverance. How could she hate her parents? They had not done anything to cause her fall. But down deep inside her sat a small ember of anger that would not let go.  She remained in the darkness calming Trevor until she too slept only to find herself, upon wakening, back in her own room. 50

Even without her two most powerful senses Claire could tell something was wrong at home when her father brought her downstairs for breakfast. There was too much tension and very little touching between her and her parents. Claire did not know what to think or what to do. So finally she asked, “What is wrong?” 51

Immediately both her parents were at her side, gently soothing her like Elizabeth had shown them. Then her mother picked up her hand and slowly spelled out the situation. Her father had been transferred and by the end of the month they would be moving to a new city. Claire spoke loudly, “I can’t move. I only have images for one city, only for my friends here. You can’t do this to me.” She yanked her hands back managing to slam one of her elbows into the back of the chair. The pain that shot through her was startling and excruciating. She immediately clutched her arm and cried out in pain and frustration. Her parents tried to calm her but she kept pulling away from their touch. Finally from that small ember within her she blurted out the anger, “You did this to me and now you are taking away what little of this world I have.” 52

Her parents were both stunned by the statement and withdrew leaving Claire sitting alone at the table. Claire slowly got up and made her way to her room. Her swollen and tender arm caused her a great deal of pain. She managed to get herself to her bed without further damage and there she laid herself until, in tears, she fell asleep. 53

The Writer54

From Trevor’s position at the computer he heard Claire return before he saw her. He could hear her gentle sobs as she cried out in anguish at her parent’s news and the discomfort her arm was causing her. As Trevor turned to see her, his heart broke. He rushed to her side and gently lifted her head to his lap, an act he was unaware she had done to him short hours before. Now as she had, he calmed her and waited for the crying to ease before asking what had caused her so much pain. 55

Once again Claire told the story of the illness only this time she ended with the news of her parents moving. She was so afraid of having her wonderful imagination but being unable to see any of the world around her. She was after all only six. How was she to gain the images she would need to deal with all the new experiences in her life? 56

Trevor kept stroking her hair and talking calming words while he thought. Then he spoke, “Claire, I have created worlds from nothing. I have taken imaginary friends and put them in all the wonderful places this earth has to offer and when I got tired of that I took them to worlds we have not yet discovered. When I ran out of friends I mixed the good and bad parts of some and created new ones. Lay still Claire and let me tell you a tale of happiness.’57

The writer began to weave his web of words and before long Claire was entrapped in his world. She stopped crying, closed her eyes and let her imagination play with the images he was dreaming up for her. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath and Claire took over the story, spinning new designs for the characters to get into and out of. Trevor, in his turn, sat silent, shocked at Claire’s skill. 58

Trevor slowly sat Claire up and asked her to keep her eyes closed. Keep your hearing and listen to my words.  Claire sat very still, unsure of what Trevor was up to. When she heard him come close she was very tempted to open her eyes but controlled herself and sat very still. Trevor placed a very unfamiliar object in her hands. She immediately began to run her fingers over it, feeling its smoothness, its weight. She brought it close to her nose to see if it had any smell and as she did it brushed her chin and she felt a little moisture in the object. Moisture her hands had been unable to detect. Lastly she raised her head to where Trevor was and peaked out her tongue at him. She could hear him laugh and say, “Yes, go ahead. “ Claire touched her tongue to the object, just slightly, to see if there was any taste. She could not find any taste but a very tiny odour triggered a memory, something about a visit to the beach. She could not track the memory down but it was very powerful. 59

Trevor asked patiently, “Are you finished?”60

She nodded and he continued. This time the tale was of a young woman and the man of her dreams who had gone away to war. Trevor spoke long about their strong bonds and how greatly the two were in love. No one had ever seen two who were more entwined. When the man left for war everyone was greatly surprised to find that the look of love never left the fair ladies face. It was soon imagined that perhaps he had in truth not gone but had remained behind, secretly, as he could not survive without his love by his side. When questioned her answer was very shocking to most. Yes, he had gone to war. But he had never left her side. His thoughts, his strength, and his patience helped her through every day they were apart. And she assured them his answer would be the same. The two had become as one. 61

One day word came that the young man had died but the lady would not believe it. Deep within her she still felt his strong presence every day. All the folk were still very saddened but nothing could be done. She continued on her happy way awaiting the return of her young man. 62

Years passed and a stranger entered the town one day. He was obviously a man of the war and one that had survived great hardship. After settling himself in, he sat in the tavern and listened to the tales of the young woman. The next day after cleaning himself up from the wearies of the road he made his way to the ladies home. He introduced himself as a friend of the young man and told the long tale of a battle at sea with all hands stranded on wreckage. Many died until finally a few landed on a small island. He continued with the tale of how while fishing one day the young man had been badly injured by a horned whale and had expressed the desire that the horn of the whale, which he had managed to kill, would be brought to the young lady if any made it off the island alive. 63

The lady took the horn and clutched it too her breast. But still she smiled. “Good sir, I thank you for your tale but you have left one crucial part out.” With this she moved the man’s long hair back to see the badly scarred face of her young love. Do you not see the love that is still deep within my eyes, my heart, my very soul? In all your years away, you have never left my side.” 64

The man hung his head in shame in doubting the love of his lady. “Through his tears she could hear him say, “You were my strength in my years away.  So many gave up and let the elements take them. I even considered it a number of times, but I could feel your love and knew that as long as I felt that I could not give up for anything.”65

The two fell into each other’s arms, crying in happiness for the reunion. 66

Trevor stopped the story and asked Claire,  “I can’t imagine that you have ever seen a narwhale but you have heard the story and you hold the horn in your hand. Even though the object is totally foreign to you can you visualize what had happened? 67

Claire nodded yes and Trevor continued, “Then consider this’, and he handed her another object, this time a small replica of a narwhale. Claire’s eyes snapped open as her hands felt the shape of the whale for the first time. She then put the whale down and went back to the horn. 68

The two of them leaned forward and rested heads on each other’s shoulders. Like the long lost lovers they too sought comfort in the arms of the other. Although many years separated them they knew the loss the other felt and the great comfort each had managed to return to the other. Still holding each other and gently rocking back and forth they remained silent on the floor. Clair opened her eyes and for her the stage remained dark  but for the writer it began to lighten. The heavy curtains and the candlelight making the room yet again a place of comfort. 69

The Muse70

The muse sat smiling in the darkened theatre. While the method was unexpected the results certainly were not. She knew the two of them needed the same treatment and had simply allowed them to act as a catalyst for each other. The muse closed her eyes, lost in thought, and with a heavy sigh thought about Claire’s first book. It would be ten years in the making and would push Claire to the limit but as always it would be worth the hard work. Before the muse faded from view she made a note to send one of Trevor’s books to Elizabeth. It would make a nice gift for Claire before she moves to the new city. 71

John72