To Current Issue

By jenna rabin

  1. Black Lightning
    Black Lightning
    By Rhonda Dalloul
         I wake up earlier than most. Even though I’ve been blind for most of my life, it still takes me longer to get ready for school than normal teens. I pry my eyes open to what I always hope to see: a sunshine.
Today, my wish comes true. I see sunshine. I’m dreaming. I’m still dreaming. No. No, no, no, no.
        I close my eyes, and once I see the darkness that I am so accustomed to, I’m so tempted just to keep my eyes shut, fall back asleep and wake back up to darkness.
Although, once I reopen my eyes, I am no longer in my bedroom. I’m still sitting on my bed. My heart begins to race. I hear my heartbeat, and I put my hand over my chest, feeling the rapid drum beat my heart is making. I look down at my covers, and I never knew what they looked like, but since I’ve never seen anything before, I don’t know how to describe my bed setting. I yell desperately for my mom, my breaths coming in and out rapidly.
        I draw my blanket into a fist and squeeze it, as I try to knock myself back into reality, but at that moment, I realize that it’s all real.
As I’m no longer in my bedroom, I take my surroundings into account. I see people. I know what people are, and I’m not in an enclosed space anymore. I am in infinite space, and right in front of me, I see something large falling down in a straight line into a circle of that same thing.
        I can tell by what it sounds like, that it is water. Water… falling into water… a waterfall. That’s what I’ll call it.
        I’m satisfied. I’ve never been fully satisfied, to be honest. I learned to live with the life I had: no sight, and relying on my senses of touch, hearing and smell to guide my way.
        Although, today, I am satisfied.
        In a world full of waterfalls, today, I am satisfied. But not necessarily happy.