The Darkness

February 2, 2011
By dylan burger BRONZE, Hooper, Colorado
dylan burger BRONZE, Hooper, Colorado
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

My alarm goes off. My hand flies threw the air to hit it, I miss and hit nothing. I fill around for the dresser; I fill over some papers and grab the alarm. I can not find the button, my anger kicks in, I yanked the alarm as hard as I could. I dropped it on the floor. i Fill sick today im sweating and hot. I reach to the foot of my bed, where mother had places today’s clothes, last night I put my pants on. Mom probably picked blue; it matches well with every thing. The denim was stiff, she must have ironed it, and it was steal warm. My shirt, short sleeve with “Denver Colorado” sewed on the front. This is not my favorite shirt. When I was six I was attacked by my neighbor’s dog. This shirt is not my most favorite, it bullies me just like the kids at school. I used to be the coolest kid at school, than I was like I walked off the face of this earth. Kids treat me like I am not the same guy, like im to much hassle. Mom holds my hand and leads me threw to the kitchen. I sat down and mom placed a spoon in my hand. I can fill moms comb pulling on my hair, the comb hurt it felt as if she was shaving my head. I lower the spoon and hit the table, I raise my hand.

“Right” moms says
I move my hand slowly right and drop it in the milk; I ate all of the obvious. I fill around the bowl to fill for any Captain Crunch, none I picked up the bowl and began drinking. All of the sudden, a dry cork hits my throat. I start to choke. Its sharp edges start scrapping my throat away. Mom with out any urgent movement patted my back. The food became loose. This routine happens at least once a day. Just think thirty minutes into my day and I already fought death, and won. Mom walks me out to the car for school. She holds my hands and directs me in. we take a right two lefts and around a curved road. The tires hit dirt to the parking lot, I know we have arrived. Every day Mrs. Sanchez meets me at our van. She is in her thirties, her hands were soft as felt and old as ice. She guided me across the frozen grass into the warm school. The halls were quiet. I was there an hour early to get ready. We walked into the class room, fifty two steps across hard wood floor; take a left, sixteen feet, than right into the class. My eyes are constantly open, but Lord has offered me darkness. The way I see it at least I can walk and talk normally. My parents say I am a brain. But I learn with all the challenged kids. I think no different from any other kid. I am the same; lord just blessed me to see no evil.

The author's comments:
its about the senses of a blind dude

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