Chapter 4: Seeing the Darkness

The world was dark to Tim as he awoke. He lurched up from the cement on which he lay, and gasped in a breath. Looking at his surroundings, Tim was having trouble seeing anything. "What time is it?" He wondered allowed. As if in answer to his question, the entire universe exploded. Sounds from everything within three miles came crashing in through his ears, laying siege on his brain. Cars whizzed by office buildings, cats walked in the alleyways, hearts beat in each and every one of the humans within his hearing.

Tim collapsed again on the ground, curled up in a tight ball, trying to hide from the noise. He shoved both fingers into his ears, and that didn't even deafen the sounds. He kept pressing and rolling, praying that the noise would stop. He barely noticed when a warm liquid began to seep down his fingers, pooling on the cement around him. The noise began to be turned down, and at the same time Tim noticed a new pain, his ears were throbbing from something other than the noise. He cautiously brought his hands before his eyes, instantly noticing that the sound did not return. He looked down at his hands and couldn't see them. It was so dark he couldn't see anything. He even tried bring his fingers right in front of his face and still could not see them. With his hands on his forehead he noticed something strange attached to his hand. On a chain that had looped itself on his hand was a small medallion. Not able to see it, he placed it around his neck, and feeling something as his hands came down his face with the chain, he felt the ridge that traveled from his left eye to his right. As he traced the path, the memory of the night ravaged his mind, and he screamed out his pain. Not even recognizing the fact that he should be dead, Tim lurched to his feet and ran out of the alley way, almost feeling the walls with his hands as he went. He charged out of the alley, and could hear the children being called from the park by their parents, "strange" he thought, "Hearing again? I thought I had deafened myself." Again the noise came back, this time with a great vengeance. It tried to tear him asunder. He stumbled into the street trying to escape, hearing cars as the came, but not able to determine anything other than their existence. Tim felt the wind whip by him, then found himself once again on the floor, this time with a truck stopped before him, a huge dent in its from grill from the impact. Some days it just seems like life has hit you with a semi, other times your unlife is struck by one.

Tim lay on the ground curled once again in the fetal position, again wishing for his death. Death however, had already come for him, and it had been sent back with a return to sender mark. Somewhere within the echoing madness of the world Tim found peace and was able to pass out.

"... so I say's to my self, Sinbad, you have got to get yourself some new company. So's I went's out looking for some frien's and dinn'ah and what's do I find, a skank run-away hoe. They's excellent conversations... and some kid off'a da street. Literally scrapped off'a da street too... hope I got's it all... should'a brought's my shovel."

A strange looking fellow wandered around the ruined room. A six foot three African, not African-American, African, is not too strange but when added in that he was dressed in an orange pair of sweat pants with small holes scattered about, an old yellow Hawaiian shirt, the real kind not the fake, and flip flops, the full image becomes clear. His head was shaved, and he had a four leaf clover scared on his forehead, no one knows the origin of it. He paced aimlessly around the remains of the room, talking to himself, or no one in particular. Sinbad often does this sort of thing, talking to him self. He doesn't often look for strays.

Tim's eyelids slowly parted and he gazed out of eyeless eye sockets, "Hello... Who's there? I can't see anything, why is it so dark in here?"

"'allo boy'o you mind telling me why you're in'a dress?" Sinbad changed his accent with a seamless transition.
"What... hello who's there?"

"Eh, forget about it... you might know me as The Blue Loop Jew, Willie the Knee Wilson, or Mac O'Rooney. You might have even heard of me as Tomato King Junior. You might know me from the one night, and one night only I was called Stephanie of The Strawberry Flavored Titties. Today, here, on this oh-Kah-sion, call me Sinbad."

"err... Sinbad, you mind turning on the lights, it is so dark in here."

"Ain't dark in here boygirl. You be blind. But that's fixable."

"What do you mean blind?" Tim's hands came up to his eyes and felt the gash on either side of his sockets, and the emptiness within them. The night before came back vividly to his memory. He relieved every second in horrible detail for a never ending second. "Did you do this to me?"

"You know, a blind boy such as yourself should learn better than to go about hollering at the only person present at the present moment who can acutely visualize visible light reflecting, refracting, and being absorbed. I am only in attendance to provide aid to a disabled brother of my blood. Speaking of at scrumptious liquid of which we all crave for sustenance and satisfaction, you if I am not mistaken, have not likely imbibed the life bearing drink that binds us as brothers. This is in no way facilitating your progression into your new existence. The first step to perform is getting you visualizing again."

Tim looked toward the originator of this rant in almost complete confusion, it sounded like there was only one person in the room, but that person was having fun throwing his voice, and using different accents, and speech patterns.

"T'is so easy what you wantin to do. Just close your eyes and see."

"What are you talking about, if I close my eyes how am I supposed to see?"

"Feel out with your mind, like a great squid with many tentacles. Feel the light bounce off your limbs. Look with your mind."

Tim closed his eyes searching for something within him, instead of trying to look out. He focused his mind on feeling outside, and got no further. He felt foolish as he pretended to be a squid, but he pretended that he had tentacles coming out of his brain, and tried to feel.

"It's not working you crazy bastard."

"Language, language young man, you're hurting me sensitive ears. All you need to do is imagine a link between your feelers and the outside. You must be weak after the long ordeal dear and you're not going to be able to do something so foreign without energy from outside. Reach up as if you were trying to reach the top branch of a tree. Reach as high up as you can go, and imagine a spider web there. What do you see?"

"This is such bullshit." Tim thought to himself.

"No it ain't, no it ain't, but you gotta know the territory." Sinbad's voice sang in his head.

"What the hell."

"Now... now, no getting feisty, get to work."

Tim tried to do what the crazy man said, he reached inside and tried to find a web above his head. He couldn't have felt less retarded at that moment than anything he had done lately, and he was still in a dress. Feeling inside, and outside, trying to find a web of something, Tim kept feeling like he was getting somewhere, only to have a tiny voice inside his head start laughing at him, and his concentration would break.

"This is so stupid. I can't find it. Just tell me what is so important you fucking crazy."

"Bah... that's just the minds talking, ignore them. You should be able to feel it, almost like a net around you, but one you can't touch. That voice that says 'this is so stupid why am I doing this, ' and 'I cannot do these things, ' that's it talking to you. Just ignore it, but follow where it's coming from."