Your job is to write an entire short story from the perspective of a blind person. In other words, you must tell your story with only sounds, feelings, and smells. (tastes too, I guess.) You can tell us how and why they're blind, but it's not a requriment.
1st place: Comments and scores on anything and everything you want
2nd place: Comments and scores on two things
3rd place: Comments and scores on one thing
When is it due?
Like the above post, when is the deadline?
I fell... Yet Again
My back slammed into the locker and I felt stinging pain before my feet gave out from under me. I couldn't see the bully, or the crowd but I could hear the loud jeers and insults thrown my way. I felt the rough lockers and hard floor. A pencil jammed into my thigh and I jerked it out.
I heard a footstep towards me and a cold hand grab the front of my collared shirt. The hand hauled me up, giving me barely a second to get my footing before delivering a punch to my stomach. They let go on contact to get me to fall back to the floor, where they liked me. I clutched at my stomach upset that I couldn't fight back, I couldn't even know where the attack was coming from. The pain wasn't too bad, they had dealt out worse.
“Common, get up! Or are you too scared?” The voice was unnecessarily loud and deep, the sound of a door slamming. I recognized the voice. It was that of Dalton Stony, a regular bully. I was a little scared but I couldn't let them show me up. I went to stand but someone pushed on my stomach and I gasped, dropping to the floor. The pain was getting worse, like a splinter that every time you touch it, the pain gets worse. My back only stung a little, my body heat combined with the cold lockers making for an unconformable combination. “Get up!” I knew better this time, but after a moment someone, probably Dalton kicked my stomach. I groaned putting both hands over my stomach. It was getting worse, more like needles were being stuck in my stomach repetitively.
“What are you doing?” The voice yelled down the hallway. It carried emotion, as if he were in pain at mine own. The voice was deep, definitively male, like honey pouring over a plate. The voice was not one I recognized. “Get away from her!” He yelled at them. I heard footsteps slowly walk away and people saying nasty things about him. The footsteps faded away and silence rang in my ears. Slowly, carefully I sat up. I couldn't hear anything so I spoke first, “Umm, are you still there?” My voice came out slightly squeaky, but more even than I thought it would. Hearing a small gasp and footsteps towards me, I tried to stand but my stomach protested. I fell to the ground, yet another time.
“Whoa there, you should probably be sitting.” He laid a hand on my arm as if to hold me down. His hand was warm and soft. “You're the new girl, right? Sorry I never caught your name.” He was hesitant, as if he wasn't sure calling me a new girl was okay.
“Well I wouldn't consider myself new, I've been here for half an year. Amber is my name. And thanks for helping me with the bullies.” I said quietly, I didn't want him to know how much those bullies had actually scared me.
“No problem, Amber. Mine's Oliver. You're... well blind right?” He said the last part quickly as if he wanted to get it out. I didn't have any problem with being blind, so it was fine that he said that.
“Yup, I'm blind. Now I should probably get home, my mom worries.” I went to stand and a wave of now knife slashing pain went through me and I fell yet again. Except this time it was different. I fell on Oliver. He let out a whoosh of air as I landed but we stayed like that for a moment. I felt his heart beating as fast as mine. His warmth and mine mingled together, but only for a second. Then I blacked out from the pain.
As I was told Oliver called and got me into an ambulance. Turns out I had a broken rib. Oliver and I were friends for awhile as I desperately tried to become more. He protected me from various bullies which I very much appreciated. Finally three months later in June, we became something more.
Is this what you want? I know I only really used hearing is that ok?
It'll be due when I have seven entries. I might change that number, depending on how well this goes.
Yes, that entry is exactly what I'm looking for. You did great! Don't feel like you're limited to realistic fiction- fantasy or sci-fy works too.
Poverty and Elderly
A rat ran over my fingers as I laid on the cold cement floor. Its body I could not see, but its tiny little feet I could feel scurry across my body. It crept up my arm and went all the way up to my shoulder. It sniffed my ear and I felt teeth nibble on my earlobe. I immediately ripped it away from me and heard a small thump. Sitting upright, I listened closely to the sounds around me.
A man yelling to a woman who never loved him.
Children crying for a scrap of food.
A train in the distance roaring away.
Where am I?
My old bones ached as I tried to get up. I kept close to the cold wall behind me and used my hands to move to wherever I was going. I needed Harry. Where was my grandchild?
I bumped into many sharp, painful obstacles that made me want to curse, but in case Harry was there, I decided to refrain.
“Harry, sweetheart, where are you? Nana wants you, baby,” I croaked.
I felt through the air, but came upon nothing. I started to softly kick objects on the ground, but I ended up kicking a wall opposite me.
“Nana, are you okay?” Harry’s voice said suddenly.
“Sweetheart, where have you been? Where are we? Did we move to somewhere new?” I asked him. I felt vulnerable and scared in this new climate. I didn’t like being in new places I was not familiar with, especially with a grandson who needed my protection.
“Nana, relax. We’re still at home.” Harry took my arm and pulled me somewhere. Grabbing onto my shoulders, he softly placed me into a chair. “Do you want something to eat?”
“How are we still home, sweetie? I hear new sounds. What does this place look like?” I asked.
“It looks like a room with a table and chairs. Do you want something to eat?”
“Yes, honey. Get me some water, please,” I said.
Harry’s hands left me and I waited patiently. I heard water pouring into a cup and suddenly water was being poured into my mouth. Bits of dirt and mud swished between my teeth as I let the feel of water slide down my throat.
“Harry, what does the water look like? I want to imagine it,” I said.
“It looks brown and not clear.”
“Hm. Where are your parents, Harry? What happened to them?”
“Nana. They died. Please try and remember.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nana, when are you going to get better? When are we going to stop living here?”
I laughed heartily. “When pigs fly, my dear.”
Yes! I love how you described the rat so fully.