Short Stories

A short narrative based on themes from C.S. Lewis & Plato’s ‘Allegory of the Cave’

“ALL STORIES  ARE TRUE, SOME OF THEM ACTUALLY HAPPENED, WHEN YOU HEAR A STORY IT HAPPENS TO YOU.” 

What you have in your mind at this current moment will affect how you perceive and  understand the world that is given to you, that is, the story you take part in. If there is one thing I can ask of you, let it be this: let yourself become part of this story, clear your mind, envision a blank canvas and let it be an empty world, I will paint your picture, I will make your realm, begin experiencing with only the thought of what I  tell you … let this story happen to you. 

“The love of knowledge is a kind of madness.”

 “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” – C. S. Lewis

Lost. Broken. Shattered. Unknown. Blind. 

He felt afraid because of what he couldn’t see, yet he had vision, clear as newly made glass so transparent it had the ability to trick the mind’s eye, and  he had the view of a bird, soaring high in the sky on a beautiful day where nothing got in its way. What he could not see had nothing to do with his eyes at all. He was hindered, blinded by his own mind. Where he stood, the world around him seemed empty even though it was filled with life, color, and meaningful imperfections that all together seemed to create a marvelous space too perfect to exist and too imperfect to be real. But alas what he felt as fear he did not understand because he only knew of what he could see and nothing of the world that existed beyond his eyes. Comfort from familiarity and an unknown satisfaction filled his heart. “Let go” … “Listen”… “Open your eyes”. A voice, distant but almost powerful, seemed to reign over him…repeating…emphasizing…declaring “let go” …. “Listen” … “Open your eyes”. 

—

It’s 2:59 in the morning. The air is crisp but refreshing but only the birds outside seem to be aware. The world is silent but still busy. There exists a small town, at the top of a hill, with cobblestone roads and rows of adorable and welcoming houses. There is emptiness and quiet as people let the night go by. Zoom in to the outskirts of the village, a house on the edge of the hill sits in silence…completely dark…seemingly empty.  A clock chimes on the hour… it’s 3 AM. One chime, his eyes jerk open. A second chime, he stares straight ahead into the ceiling above him. A third chime, the glass face of the clock shatters. A fourth chime, louder, more broken… he is alarmed. He walks over to the clock, a sharp pain shoots through him. ‘Look down’ … the sight of red by his feet and the broken glass. He suddenly sees an image, clearer than ever before. He leans down, picks up a piece of glass, in the dark, in the redness, there is a picture. ‘It can’t be’… ‘How could it… Stop.’ He forces the questions away. He sets the bloodied piece of glass down on the white table cloth… his jaw drops… his eyes widened. The blood spreads through the cloth like water through the roots of a tree. The image expands… ‘I don’t… *THUD* he falls to the ground, body heavy, his head crashes against the floor. SILENCE. 

—

He is awake. All you see is darkness and his body laying in open space. His eyes are shut. He is at peace. 

*In his thoughts* 

Have my memories deceived me? Was what I just saw real? I have a strong want to know more than I ever have before. Everything from my past beyond this recent memory seems like it does not exist. I can’t remember what I never knew. I feel as though I do not live here, in my own body. I have been introduced to someone new that I have not known before. I can suddenly see everything. * eyes still shut a tear rains down his face* 

As the teardrop falls, a drop of water, large enough to encompass him,  elegantly falls from above,over him keeping its shape. He is surrounded by calm water. The feeling of floating fills in him and he becomes lost in sensation. Slowly, the water falls away, like molecules gently separating in space and floating off. He is left with a comfort he has not known and a warmth he has never felt. 

He opens his eyes. *DARKNESS* 

This time his sight was shorthanded by physicality. What he cannot see is minimal and has everything to do with physical sight. Blindness.  Somehow feeling, hearing, and imagining allows him to see more clearly. He has a feeling of fear, no not fear, just the thought he should be afraid but he is not, he is calm and aware. This is new, this is not comfortable… But that is how it feels. “Let go… Listen… Open your eyes” he hears again from the distance. 

He stands. *pain, like the feeling of a bruise* 

Looking down, he gently runs his finger along the red scarred line on his foot. He feels the crease and notices the imperfection in a place where perfection was never noticed. 

Walking forward, he feels a texture below his feet. It’s new to him but he knows what it is. Each slightly prickling blade tickles his foot as he walks, slightly annoying his cut. Bending and crushing under his weight the grass flows with his movement and the wind around him. In his mind he can see it. Still further, another step, just a few more, there, cold, crunch, soft… Snow. He felt snow under his feet. A few more steps, and the refreshing cold turns to pain, he can no longer feel his cut. He can no longer feel anything but cold numb pain. He imagined beautiful sparkling snow at the first step, now he puts this feeling of pain with a harsh winter and in his mind he can see it. One more step, crunch. The pain slowly goes away. With each step further, more feeling. Crunch. He knows the sound, he knows the feeling. The leaves below his feet rustle and break under him. The wind he feels across his face picks up some leaves and carries them through the air. He can hear it. He hears the leaves when the crash into the ground again. In his mind he can see it. The crunch stops, another step. Hot but soothing somehow. No hot. Too many steps in rough pain. His cut amplified with heat like fire. Walking on hot concrete, in his mind he can see it. Two more steps, sinking. Falling through the water. He is washed of everything. Still walking through the ground of vast and shallow water. He feels the fish swim by, he hears the swish of the water surrounding him, in his mind he can see it. He lets go, floating, he rises to the top. 

“Let go… Listen… Open your eyes” 

Laying still floating on his back at the top of the water he is carried by the current and in an uneven sway of the water he is placed on land. Laying there he feels the grain underneath him. Sticking to his arms and legs. He stands, his cut filled. He sees the sand but with his eyes he only sees black. 

“Let go.. Listen… Open your eyes” 

This time he replies “ why now do you continue to say this. Why had you not said anything before. In my memories I see nothing. I was lost, broken, shattered with nothing to know. I saw nothing around me and still heard nothing of your words. Now I open my eyes and I cannot see but somehow I have seen more since waking up then I have in my entire life. I have heard sounds that only my subconscious knew. Why now when I notice these things do you taunt me with your words. 

As he spoke  each word began to echoe more and more as if he was talking to a wall. 

“ close your eyes” 

“Open them” 

He looks onward. He stands in front of a white wall taller than the highest building you know. He tries to turn around unsatisfied with what he sees. He is now aware. He wants to see more. He wants to know. 

“ why am I stuck. Why am I left to see less than what I saw when I was blind. You tell me to open my eyes but leave my sight broken. You tell me to open my eyes and give me no sight to see. “ 

He closes his eyes. Imagining the image of his only memory. Opening his eyes one last time he lets the visual of his blood fill the white wall in front of him. His mind picks up the shattered glass and places it in the picture. He paints his mind on a wall. In a flash the wall turns to a mirror but the image does not change. He sees himself. He understands. All of this, every part, showed him that his only memory, his last visual, was merely giving him sight to where he actually was …who he actually was. He never saw his surroundings before even though sight gave it to him every day. His concept of life changing before his eyes, he lets go of what he was seemingly afraid of. He is aware. Curious. Wanting to explore he tries to turn around again. He sees his house, lit by the comfort of the sun for the first time. He looks outside. He walks through his home, and encounters people who have always acknowledged him but for the first time he reacts and suddenly he is no longer lost. 

The clock chimes. From a distance he hears it in his home. More aware than creatures in a silent night. He runs home. Another chime as he opens the door. CRASH. again the glass face of the clock shatters. He walks over and his scar hits the shards. In the blood he sees something new. Overwhelmed a tear falls again. The drop hits the glass and the shard made even clearer, his reflection. 

Content. He sees himself but more than this he sees his world and his surroundings.  He thinks to himself let go, listen, open your eyes.  A third tear falls and the clock chimes 3 o clock. At that moment he feels  grief for the version of himself that he lets go of. He is no longer afraid…he has never been afraid. He has been empty, wanting for a feeling and without knowing it he let fear be what he tried to feel. For the longest time it worked because his notion of being unknown left a similar feeling of fear, but alas he did not know how to feel it. 

Eyes wide, vision clear, mind open. He soon falls to sleep and in his dreams relives moments lost to time from the version of himself let go. Awakening with memories, emotion, and life for the first time he remembers that he shut out his world to allow himself to just exist and be,  on his own. Soon after he forgot how to let the world back in. Let go, listen, open your eyes… Now he welcomes the world, his world, his reality. He can live his life with the satisfactions and desires of knowing where he is and how he belongs in his own presence, his own life. empty space feels like glorious and spacious air surrounding him, Darkness, once purely black, feels peaceful and somber like moments given as gifts to simply let go, light, once blinding, seems illuminating. What he saw only in his mind became his reality. The world he now exists in touches his skin but is felt in his soul. Let go… listen… Open your mind… See through your eyes.