G sat in the bedroom and looked at the paper that covered the walls.
He felt strange. He and his wife had slept in this room all of theirmarried life. Yet he could not remember what the walls looked like. Hehad been blind. Now he could see again. He got up and he walked overto the wall. He touched the paper with its small red flowers and greenleaves. The colors were old and dull.
G had gotten his sight back in the morning. He had opened his eyes andthere it was, light. Light, he had not seen for 5 years. At first, thelight was blurry. Then he saw light shadows, then everything becamebright and sharp. And so he simply sat there and looked at all thethings around him. His wife and his son had cried when he told them. Gsaid all the things they wanted to hear.
To his son, he said: "You have grown tall, tall as a tree. You arejust like a man now. It is good to see you and your smile again."It was not so easy to talk to his wife.
"You look the same, Lina, exactly the same."It was a lie. But he kept on saying it. It helped to hide his feelingswhen he saw her old thin face. Lina had never been beautiful but herwarm smile gave her a pretty look. Now the hard work of caring for ablind man showed on her face. She looked tired. G suddenly felt likerushing outside to do something to pay her for those difficult years.
After a time, Lina and their son left and G sat there and thoughtabout the past. Everything would be different now, now that he couldsee again. In the afternoon G became tired. He rested as he looked atthe old wallpaper. He began to wonder if he could start where he hadleft off. They had no money. Lina had thought about selling the farmbut now that would not be necessary because he could work. With helpfrom their son, they would keep the farm.
Ideas began to form in his mind. He thought about the future. Thethought of working again began to excite him. At last, G felt braveenough to go outside. He wondered what changes would be there.
Lina looked worried. "Please be careful," she said. "The doctor saidto rest and be quiet.""Oh, I'll be all right," G answered and left the house.
The daylight hurt his eyes at first. He closed them for a few minutes.
Then he slowly opened them and started to walk slowly toward theriver. When he got there he sat on an old fallen tree and lookedaround. He saw his farm fields. He saw how much work was to be done.
He started to make plans.
It was a day in late April. It was still cool. But G just sat thereand looked and planned. He saw the wilding muddy river. He saw thepurple hills reaching up to the sky. He saw the oak trees bigger nowalong the side of the river. They were covered with white flowers. Hewatched the black birds fly down to his fields. He had forgotten thatthey were so graceful. G had a sudden urge to go out and work in thefields. But the feeling quickly left. He felt peaceful. He enjoyed thequiet happiness of seeing.
Nothing could stop him now, he thought. He would build his land into agood farm again. He began to plan again to organize his thoughts. Whenhe had been blind his thoughts had been blind too. He looked at hishands. They were white and thin and soft. He would teach them to workagain.
After a time, G got up and started to walk toward the house. Now thathis thoughts were clear and he had plans. He wanted to talk to hiswife and son. And then he wanted to feel the freedom he had missed somuch. He started to run, smiling and talking happily to himself. Hewas excited that he could move so fast without any help. How wonderfulto walk alone. He almost stepped on a frog that jumped between hisfeet.
"Out of the way, frog." he shouted and laughed. He laughed to the skyand to the trees and to the world.
It was then that he noticed a change. A grey curtain fell slowly downover the river and the valley. He stood still and opened his eyes aswide as he could. The curtain continued to fall now over the oak treesuntil they became tall shadows. G closed his eyes and put his handsagainst them. He hoped and hoped but when he opened them again, it wasstill dark. The dark fog was still there. This was how it had happened5 years ago. He remembered it clearly. One minute he could see. Thenext minute a dark fog covered the light. He saw that the fog gotthicker. The purple hills went first. Then the oak trees and theirwhite flowers, then G saw that the farmland and the house were gonetoo. A terrible fear arose inside of him. He hit the air with hishands, trying to push the darkness back.
"No, please," he shouted. "Not again." He hit his hands together inhelpless anger. But the shadows got darker.
"Stop! Stop!" He cried. "No more suffering! Give me a chance! Hold thedarkness back, please!" G reached out to the sky and begged. But itcame slow and heavy, the darkness grew. He could still hear the riverbut he could not see it. He started to run to leave the darknessbehind him. As he ran he hit a tree. He got up and ran again. He feltno pain only cold terror. Suddenly, he stopped running. He put hishands out and touched a rough old tree. He put his arms around thetree and started to laugh. He laughed for a long time and very loud.
He was a fool, he thought, a weak-minded old fool. There was nothingto worry about. It was night. He had forgotten the night. Yes, thatwas why it was dark. It was always dark at night. In 5 years ofblindness, he had forgotten. Night came early to the valley in April.
G sat down under the tree, weak from laughing, wait until he told Linaand his son. They would laugh with him.
Of course, he was not blind again. If could not happen 2 times in 1lifetime. He leaned his head back against the tree and smiled oncemore. The late evening sun shone red on the tears that came from hiseyes.
You have just heard the American Story "Dark". It was written byJosephine Johnson. Your storyteller was Shep O’Neal. The producer wasLowan Davids. It was published by Doubleday, Doran & Company inO.Henry Prize Stories of 1934. This is a copyrighted story, all rightsreserved. The Voice of America invites you to listen next week at thesame time for another American story told in Special English. This isShirley Griffith. |