Revival

I have been blind since birth; due to my blindness I have been able to see the world for what it is and differently from those around me. In that same notion, all of that changed in one instant for me, so exceedingly long ago. I write this to tell everyone who has ever thought nothing is or will be, but also, I write this so that one day my voice will be known to all who had ever wandered in and sought, seeking the one thing they want without caring or paying their dues to life… for all those whom made my outlook terrible… for you all, I tell this and use it as a reminder to myself and for those whom follow after, please read and listen to this old woman’s tale and learn a thing or two.

In the middle of the season of love where the cupids come and grant the would-be lovers into their yearly frolics of delight and overjoy, I found myself once more missing that of the merriment and overture that all those poets and romantics fascinate over. It was the standard springtime youth and I watched as they frolicked and played upon the grassy hills and slide down the proverbial slides that lead to a blissful monument or testament to them being there or a they or a once was or never will be again. I have witnessed it all. The loving nature of those in the depth of their passions to the wretched destruction of hearts that ache for a release and reprieve as well as for those who find no solace in anything. I bear witness to it all and not even once have I wanted to linger or dwell upon those whom care nothing for the ones whose heart was not there or how and or why it was removed. Yet, I hear it all. Each person is talking and questioning. Each person playing the violin of love and lust and whom gamble with their heart and lose. They each come to my office complaining of the same things, each and every single one of them. I tire of the repetitive.

It was then upon the tenth year that my office was taking in requests that a man walked in whom exuded a different aura about him as well as having a more intrigued tale to fascinate me and whom was able to once again awaken the desire to help those whom need it. Those like that man whom fate had decreed absent and alone. I remember it clearly as if it were but yesterday, though it has been long since the time when the man walked into my shop and changed my life for eternity.

I was a young er woman in those years, having the only shop in town that gave people their fortunes. I studied the cards, sky, as well as hands and tea leaves. I never once requested a monetary gain for my services, nor did I require or ask for any kind of payment for their dreams to be fulfilled, however, the case was and it was a nice case, the patrons who would walk in and receive their fortunes, the good and the bad would then seek something that they had seen that I was lacking and brought it to me as a gift. It was an even exchange in that way. And if you are wondering, no, not every person did bring me something needed or wanted, and I never once pressed an issue when they did not. I was happy then in those early years, giving myself freely for those who requested to know what their future beheld. I was useful to whomever it was who walked into my shop. As I had attested to, ten years had come and went as I watched and helped those whom walked in and were in need, they all wanted the same thing from my cards or readers, they all wanted to know if they would find the one thing they all wanted most. I will say, and this may be harsh for the many who do not realize it, I might be able to tell the future, but nothing is set in stone or cast in a way that is unchangeable. Each person’s destiny changes as the wind changes, you control it overall, the path changes too often to be one-hundred percent accurate each and every time. Not one cared. They all wanted their answers and if they would find the love of their lives, or make it rich and merry happily, or something. I found that people all, no matter where they are from or who they are, all the people want THREE things only: Money, Love, and Food. They all think the same and none realize it.

Despite me drifting more and more distant from those whom fragrant my shop with their demands and wants, despite me slowly beginning to despise all those whom wander in and ask or those whom do not, despite all the ideas that I had, it was the man that walked in that changed me.

I remember the feeling that I got from the man as he walked into my shop. It was not the normal feeling I had back then, it was intense, and more so of he truly needed my help. He walked in and sat down in front of me, his voice low and distraught, he had seen things that he could not explain, he felt things that made no sense to him, his voice was low and hollow when he spoke to me, my body quivered with the sound of it. It was as if he had come from the underworld and crawled back up to the land of the living just to see me. His haunting voice resonated deeply within me. It was as if I was instantly lusting or in love with the man’s voice. I could not see him sadly, I knew not what he looked like, but I could tell he was more of a vision then anyone else who wandered in begging me for their future and to secure it for them this way they could have what they wanted, not what they earned from living it and achieving it themselves. Yet, this man spoke but three words, ‘help me, please’ and in that moment my knees felt like they were going to break and take off running away with that man!

I felt his hand reach across the table and grab mine! It was cold as steel, ice, the coldest hand I had ever felt, yet it was not a hand that hurt me, it had not once caused me pain or anything that one would have believed, he just reached and gripped my hand. The coarseness of his palm was harsh, it had seen better and younger days, I felt the scars along the lines and upon his fingertips, ki felt the damage from years of toil and pain, the hard working hands of a young man upon a farm, the gentleness of his touch, the lingering worries of bygone days, the love he had and lost and what he was never to give again, the warmth of his icy hand only added to the unknown of this man and I melted in his grasp.

His voice called out to me in the darkness of my sight as I held his hand, beckoning me to help him, though nothing more was said by the man, just those three words, that was all he said and then I felt the release of his icy grip and I heard him rise from the chair, the scratching along the wood flooring was more then jarring to my ears, the screeching was worse then a nail scrolling and scratching down a chalkboard, it pierced my ears and I wanted to rip them off of me, then silence for a moment. It was a brief moment before the thunderous hooves of his feet, his boots, I could tell tattered and seeing better days, were walking away from me and toward the door. Leaping to my feet I begged him to wait and stop, he did neither. The door closed behind me with a sound so terrible, it was as if countless numbers of beasts from my dreams were all screaming in chorus and chanting in unison as the door came to a still, then once more silence.

I sat and watched once more with my mind as all the people went to and fro about on their daily lives, meeting in the square and parks as I wallow away in their misery and longing for better.

The man changed me in many ways that I cannot speak of, I long for his return, long to help him, now, as I had said, I watch… I look… for him and care for no one else.