The Story Of A Veiled World

It’s summer now. The birds are whistling, the bees are buzzing, and the trees are swaying gently in the breeze. At least I think they are swaying. Yes they must be; I can feel the wind hitting my face. Slowly I made my way to a park bench. It felt rough to the touch. Wood, I thought to myself; how perfectly suiting for a park.

In the distance children are laughing, playing no doubt. How happy and carefree they seem. I smile to myself, remembering the joys of my childhood. Games of tag, riding bicycles, and playing pretend. It all seemed so far away somehow. Now I am just by myself in a sea of blackness, nothingness. Alone.

Solitude; privacy; everybody wants it, but only few have it. Those who do, wish to hand it off to someone else. For solitude leads to isolation, which leads to loneliness. It is what you make of it; or should I say it leads in many directions, none particularly hopeful. It is deafening.

And yet, it is a noisy solitude. Little voices are always entering your thoughts, faceless but not nameless. People are no longer people, just voices. Loud, demanding voices. Then nothing. Just blackness. Just silence. This is my world. I want it to go away. I want it to be gone. Forever.

The heat of the sun is now burning my skin and I realize how long I have been sitting here. I hear the crack of a baseball bat and the crowd cheering. The smell of hotdogs drifts towards me. Probably just a little league game going on I thought to myself. The children are still playing; their shrieks of joy reminding me of their innocence.

The breeze has kicked back up and the trees are rustling. I can almost picture them. They are swaying, swinging in a rhythmic motion, being taken whichever direction the wind wants them to go. If only I could see them sway. If only I could see.

The End