The Obscurity

Chapter Two

~Two Years Later: Present Day~

"Today marks two years since the devastating incident, causing the Great Blinding." Martha Cassidy announced from the Channel 41 News Network. "Two years ago, September 23, world renowned scientist, Hunter Terrence—" I cut her voice off, as I picked up the remote, switching the TV off.

Rising from my seat, a slightly comfortable leather couch, I worked my way to my easily navigable small-sized kitchen. Touching the granite island in the middle, with two of my fingers for reference, I was soon two steps away from the microwave, as I reached for the microwave handle, missing twice. On the third try, I wrapped my hands around the cylindrical object and yanked it open.

A fresh scent of popcorn with buttery insides filled the room, tingling under my nose as I picked up the warm bag, placing it on my counter. A few popcorn kernels were still popping in the bottom of the bag, as I undid the packaging, and a gust of heat immediately framed my face. I picked two and put them in my mouth, panting because they were still a little too warm to eat.

Finding my way back to my living room, I dropped myself onto the couch and put both my feet up, still clasping the packet of popcorn and eventually putting a few in my mouth at once. My hands felt the digital clock sitting on my right side, and pressed the button on the top.

"5:36 pm." The electronic voice said out loud.

I sighed, and pushed my head back as it rested on the top of the couch. I stared off into the infinite space of darkness masked with a permanent blindfold.

As did everyone.

I don't believe anyone understands the loss of a major sense, unless they truly experience it. After the incident two years ago, the world was put into agony. Every human being was blinded, causing a massive surge of panic and distress throughout the world, which still hasn't healed as people are still adapting to the changes.

I was able to understand the pain of waking up one day, opening your eyes and not seeing the morning sunlight shining on your face. I understood the pain of walking around my own house, and feeling lost of where I was. I understood the pain of not being able to tell what was day and night, not being able to read, not being able to even walk to a friend's house.

However, those were the little things which could easily heal with time. Most unfortunately, I understood the pain of not being able to recognize the people most dear to me, and vice versa, at the first touch or a voice.

After a few months, the blindness almost seemed natural. I paid attention to the littlest of things; how many steps to go from the bathroom door into the shower, which buttons on the remote triggered certain channels, while learning how to read Braille (although still working towards fluency), etc.

The room was a silent space, thoughts constantly circulating my mind, entering as quickly as they exit. Sometimes, the silence seemed almost suffocating, ready to embrace and then consume the entirety of myself, giving me a valid reason to keep the TV switched on, so that the voices and overall noise could fill the emptiness of the room. But at other times, the silence was calming, allowing a moment to think without being interrupted by visual distractions or otherwise.

Gulping, I turned around trying to reach for the remote, previously left on the table in front, as I heard a slight muffled noise a little far back. I stopped eating and tilted my ear towards the area in which the noise originated. With no sight, it's easy to get paranoid over the slightest of noises, so I turned my head back straight, quickly dismissing the unsettling notion.

Two minutes later, I heard a slight shuffle through the room. Knowing I was definitely right this time, I put my popcorn down slowly, and stood up.