[stylist] I will not Walk by Sight (second version)

[helene ryles]

I liked this story. Good work.

On 02/11/2015, Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter via stylist
<stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
> Shawn,
>
> Chris gave some great comments already. This is definitely a revision but
> still some errors and typos just to be aware of. Like Chris, I'm not a huge
> fan of this particular style of writing, but you are consistent in both
> style and voice throughout entire story.
>
> Chris mentioned it, but there are several places where you use the same
> word
> in close proximity. Right in the second para it kicks off with the word
> fortune.
>
> You also use past participles a lot. The past perfect tense is over done
> and
> keeps you in passive voice. I know there's a tendancy to use past perfect
> tense when the subject addresses the past, and then within that section
> they
> address the past, but it becomes too much and drags the sentence structure
> and story down.
>
> So much better with erotic or sexual descriptions (not sure what else to
> call it, LOL) Gives us enough description and detail without making us
> blush, smile. In particular, I like the following: And the dream was
> especially good that night.  My dream lover came touching and stroking with
> special fervor as if she had heard our speculations and had felt joy from
> them.  The night ended with what felt like a full body kiss that left me
> howling with pleasure with a voice that had to ring through the whole
> commune.
>
> Good job with the working metaphor, especially with the feeling of
> difference. It works on many levels. And I like the religious connection
> and
> imagery.
>
> Bridgit
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Jacobson,
> Shawn D via stylist
> Sent: Thursday, October 29, 2015 12:14 PM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List (stylist at nfbnet.org)
> <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> Cc: Jacobson, Shawn D <Shawn.D.Jacobson at hud.gov>
> Subject: [stylist] I will not Walk by Sight (second version)
>
> Dear Stylist.
>
> Below find the second version of my story "I Will Not Walk by Sight".  I
> would like to thank Bridgit for her comments.  I think the story is a lot
> better for her imput.
>
> I hope you enjoy it.
>
> Shawn
>
> I Shall Not Walk by Sight
> by Shawn Jacobson
>
> Dear Pastor, I am writing to tell you why I have not been in church of
> late.
> It has been a while, and I know that you keep track of those who miss the
> Sunday service, so I know my absence has been noted.  My explanation
> follows.  You will think me quite mad, unhinged by nightmares and the
> abnormal life I have led, yet I feel the need to tell my story so that you
> can understand the journey I am about to take.
> It started at my hot dog stand in the middle of town.  The Baltimore police
> were telling me to move on so as not to bother others on the street.  I
> explained that I wasn't bothering anyone, just trying to make a living.  It
> was my good fortune that the policeman left giving me a warning, but such
> fortune cannot be trusted for long.
> I was preparing for the next confrontation when I saw a woman carrying a
> cane, the kind I should carry but am too lazy or too proud to bother with.
> She came up and leaned against the cart.
> "Jeff, it's been ages since I've seen you" she said.  "How are you doing?
> Remember me, I'm Poly, I used to go to meetings with you."
> "OK I guess" I said.  "Just had a visit from the law, otherwise it's the
> same old thing."  But what have you been doing with yourself.  Your
> Federation friends all miss you."
> Oh that" she said.  "I've been living with some other blind folk, kind of
> like a commune where we can be together and not feel weird, a place where
> blindness skills are normal.  And we have all kinds of fun" she continued.
> "You're welcome to join us.  That is, unless you really enjoy selling
> wieners and being harassed by the cops."
> I had remembered Polly from National Federation of the Blind meetings.  I
> remember her taking me arm one day and leading me to a chair; she had joked
> about leading me down the aisle, but I had been too clueless to read
> anything deeper into her humor.  She had been a fixture in our group.
> Then,
> about a year ago, she had stopped coming to meetings and we fell out of
> touch.  Her reappearance had reminded me of our friendship.
> I remembered those days as we talked.  Then she asked "do you want to come
> with me and experience how we live?"
> At that, I left my cart and followed her.  I guessed that the boys in blue
> would do with it whatever they wanted.  At that point I didn't care.  For
> it
> was as if a new revelation of personal emptiness had come over me.  I felt
> a
> compelling need to fill the hole in my soul with something; a commune of
> blind folk might be the filling the whole needed.
> "I see you aren't using a cane like you should" Polly chided me as we left
> the cart and walked out of the respectable part of the city "we'll get you
> back in the habit before you know it; once you stop pretending you can see,
> you'll get right back into the swing of it" she continued as she swung her
> cane.
> We continued leaving the business district and heading into Baltimore's
> heart of darkness, a place where only fools walked without trepidation.  We
> continued past increasingly rundown buildings past shambling meaningless
> groups of people killing time.
> As we continued, I noticed a tall thin man, or maybe he was an older boy.
> He wore loose pants, a T-shirt, and a ball cap with an "X" on it.  I
> noticed
> these details since I was still using my eyes for whatever they were worth.
> This stranger followed us, a predator of the city seeking prey.
> I was about to warn Polly of trouble when, suddenly, she turned and gave
> him
> a peculiar look and, for no reason I could deduce, he scampered off into
> the
> blighted cityscape.
> We're almost there" Polly said as we approached a building falling into
> shambles "the commune I was telling you about".
> It was old, a line of row houses being allowed to return to nature.  The
> block it occupied was forgotten; one of those places between areas of urban
> renovation, put apart from all such endeavors, an unplanned place.
> The people too seemed outside of any urban plan.  I remembered some of them
> from Federation meetings of the past, but they had not stayed with the
> movement.  There was Jill, who decided that the work of the movement would
> keep her from having time for her family, the movement can devour your
> life.
> There was Kim, who thought that we should be a therapy group and Alex who
> had been encouraged to leave after begging during one of our conventions.
> Beyond them, there were a lot of vaguely remembered folk who had come to
> one
> or two meetings and had lost interest.  And then there was Joe; he was
> different.
> "You remember Joe" Polly said to me "you had some common interest.  You two
> can room together" Polly told me with the assurance of a master planner
> whose ideas are never questioned.
> I had not realized that she meant me to stay there, but that didn't bother
> me at all.  Jake, whose garage I had been bunking in, would not miss me.  I
> could come back for what little stuff I had another day.
> And I looked forward to rooming with Joe.  When I met him, Joe worked for
> NASA analyzing pictures of other planets.  His job fit into our shared
> interest in science fiction and all things astronomical.  We were two space
> heads trapped in a world of people who would not lift their eyes from the
> ground.
> In particular, I remember him discussing a project where NASA would shoot a
> beam of particles at Europa and map, through some process using quantum
> entanglement, Europa's innards to see if there really was an ocean below
> the
> ice.  "There may be life there" Joe had exclaimed excitedly "and it may
> even
> be intelligent though whatever civilization it built would not be
> comprehensible to us.  And after we map Europa," he continued "we can go on
> to Ganymede, and then on to the rest of the outer planets.  Pluto may even
> have a liquid ocean beneath its surface."  Joe was over the Jovian moons
> with the prospect.
> Then Joe had dropped out of everything.  In a fit of lousy timing
> astounding
> even for the Government, his project lost funding.  He left NASA over some
> office squabble and lost interest in the Federation.  The last time I saw
> him, he was at a meeting, in the corner, griping about everything and
> everyone.  We all thought it very sad. He left the Federation in a cloud of
> rumors and gossip about personality issues and organizational feuds.
> I sympathized with Joe.  Before my hot dog days, I had worked in an office
> and had prospects for greater things.  I also had an apartment, not a large
> one but large enough for one person, all I expected to need.  It was a
> stable and comfortable life.
> But my boss was big into visual communication and my body language was
> always wrong, always offensive in a way that I seemed too alien to
> understand.
> "IF you weren't blind," he said with exasperation "I would say that you
> were
> antisocial.  But you're blindness problems I just can't understand.  You
> have to understand that I'm not a counselor, it's not my job to figure out
> your life."
> I ultimately left in a move that engendered mutual relief.  And that
> started
> me on a string of bad decisions which left me selling wieners on the street
> and living in a garage.
> "How was your work going before you left?" I asked him that night before
> going to sleep.
> "Great for a while" he said.  "We had actually taken pictures of the waters
> of Europa and had observed some structures at the bottom of the moon's sea
> that looked strange, not natural at all.  Then, well, you know the story,
> typical Federal mess.  They closed down the Europa project and didn't want
> me on anything else.  I was frustrated, just fed up with the whole stupid
> business.  I came to NASA to explore space, but I ended up learning about
> bureaucratic stupidity."
> "I hear you brother" I said around a yawn.  I drifted off to sleep
> surrounded by the creaking noises of the place.  In my dreams something
> came
> to me.  She, or at least I presumed it was female (for it was not human)
> came and started touching me all over my body.  It was dark, so I could not
> describe the being save that the touch was soft, feathery and cool.  The
> touching was interspersed with kisses and playful pinches.  It moved over
> me
> in a weird, but increasingly pleasant manner.
> The next morning I awoke slowly with the night's dreamy pleasure still
> flowing through my mind.
> "How did you sleep?" Joe asked.
> "Pretty good" I replied "had a really weird dream though.  Not bad, really
> nice, but...."
> "I know" Joe replied, as though this were normal. "It happens a lot here.
> I'll start your training in the laundry room then."  I was glad I had
> gotten
> clothes from the stockpile, gleaned from thrift stores, kept for new
> arrivals.  "Here" Joe continued handing me a pair of eye coverings I
> recognized as sleep shades used to teach partially sighted folk like me how
> to function blind.
> "You'll need these.  You can't fit in here without the true blindness
> experience."
> That was my introduction to what we call the sense of presence.  This is
> not
> a good word for it, there are no good words for it since it is not common
> to
> the human experience, but we call it that for want of a better one.  This
> sense allows us to know where things are and some things about them.
> Smooth
> surfaces leave the feel of eating chocolate while rough surfaces leave the
> feeling of having a mouth full of salt.  The presence sense doesn't help
> with color; it would be no use at all with the touch screens that new
> appliances have, but the ancient washers and dryers here have buttons and
> dials.  The new sense works just fine with these.
> Later, when training in the kitchen, I learned that hot objects observed
> through the presence leave a feeling of disgust in the stomach.  "You'll
> never burn yourself if you heed the presence" remarked Sue, who used to be
> a
> cook before she dropped out of the working world.
> And so the next few weeks went.  I would put on my sleep shades in the
> morning and would go to various tasks to learn to heed the presence.  I
> found gardening to be especially relaxing even though sharp, thorny plants
> observed through the presence left me feeling like I'd tangled with hot
> peppers; the kind I put on hot dogs for adventurous customers.
> You should know pastor that, like the early Christians described in your
> sermons on the book of Acts; we shared all things in common.  We would eat
> our meals together rotating through the houses that were still habitable.
> We also shared chores so that no one person needed to do all of the hard
> work required of those who live in these conditions.  The money that came
> in, and I never knew where it came from, was used for the common good. I
> guess you would say that Polly's description of this place as a commune was
> correct.
> One night, a member of our group brought beer back to the commune.   Joe
> and
> I drank some before going to bed.  I remembered visiting Joe at his
> apartment before he left NASA.  We watched some SciFi travesty that was so
> bad it was funny.  Space monsters chewed up the Earth with the help of
> cheap
> special effects that were as cheesy as a Wisconsin fond du.
> The beer made Joe open up some and he started telling me about Europa
> again.
> "If such places produce intelligent life than there may be a lot of it in
> the universe.  After all, many of the outer moons could have such seas, and
> then there are the rogue planets that wander between the stars.  Some of
> these may have hot enough interiors to heat the ice to water.  There are
> probably a lot more of these oceans within the darkness than there are
> Earlike planets."
> "Really" I asked.  "You think there are that many planet sized ice balls in
> interstellar space?"  I had read an article about interstellar worlds a
> while back, but I hadn't remembered details.
> "Could easily be" he said.  "There might be a whole lot of kinds of
> intelligent sea creatures.  And if they could cross space to visit each
> other, well....."
> "Like a federation of ocean races?" I asked taken with the new concept.
> With thoughts of intrepid space exploring squid swimming through my head, I
> drifted off to sleep.
> And the dream was especially good that night.  My dream lover came touching
> and stroking with special fervor as if she had heard our speculations and
> had felt joy from them.  The night ended with what felt like a full body
> kiss that left me howling with pleasure with a voice that had to ring
> through the whole commune.
> And then there was a less pleasant experience that occurred not much later.
> It happened on the way back from the store, a neighborhood shop valiantly
> striving to stay in business.
> Polly and I were weighted down with bags when the presence showed me
> danger,
> a couple of men following us.  I was wearing sleep shades at the time so I
> would not have been able to give you a description of the men at all, but I
> knew they were trouble.  I got a sense of predation, like they were hunting
> us down, following, waiting for the right time to attack.
> Then I heard a voice in my head.  "Use the presence to reach their minds"
> it
> said.  "Notice them and dig deeper, deeper into them.  Find what will make
> them stop" it continued.
> By now, I was totally freaked out, but I saw no other way to avoid robbery,
> or a brutal death.  I tried the presence; there were the men following us,
> and, yes, there were their minds.  Suddenly I saw it, something with red
> eyes, a rat, but huge, with razor sharp teeth.  Never mind just how, I put
> the image into the mind of the closest man.  Suddenly, piteous screams rent
> the gathering dark.
> "Rats!" the man howled "They're gnawing on me."
> "There aren't any rats, you're just bugging" the second man said.
> So I put the image in his head too.  He began to scream louder than the
> first as we hastened back to the row houses.
> "That was great!" Polly gushed as she gave me a great wet sloppy kiss
> "you're getting real good with the presence."
> I remembered the hug and kiss she had surprised me with one night as our
> group celebrated the new job of one of our members.  That embrace had been
> pleasant, a bit of unexpected joy in a life coming apart, but this was
> better.
> The next day, one of our group read The Baltimore Sun on Newline, an audio
> service we have, when he turned to me.
> "Didn't you and Polly go to the store last night?"
> "Yes" I replied "what of it?"
> "Paper said that the police found a couple of young men in the alley last
> night, just of our route to the store."
> "Oh" I asked.
> "The police say they were smashing their heads into the pavement, said they
> were trying to get the rats out of their heads.  Really weird" he
> continued.
> "Rats in the head" I replied.  That would be weird alright."
> "They figure these guys got into some designer drugs gone bad; the paper
> says there'll be an autopsy, but they don't expect to find anything
> definitive."
> I knew better of course, and it did make me sad that the men had died.  I
> had certainly not wanted to kill them, just wanted to travel in safety.
> But this feeling was muffled, as if I was considering doings on Mars; for I
> have become increasingly removed from the rest of the world, like this
> place
> we live is special, a place apart.  The rest of the world just does not
> intrude here.  Besides something more horrific would befall me a couple of
> days later that would blunt the sharpness of the memory.
> It happened on an evening when I was tired and wanted to get an early
> night's sleep.  I had been busy picking up debris from around the property,
> clearing walks so that we could travel.  It had been a long job since loose
> roofing from some of the row houses had fallen during a bad storm.  I just
> hoped to get some sleep and not creek like the tin woodsman the next day.
> Well, just as I was drifting off, there was a tumult from the unit next
> door.  Joe and I ran to investigate.  I didn't put on my sleep shades,
> strange since we almost always wear them, so I was depending on eyesight
> rusty from not being used; it was only good enough to keep me from using my
> presence sense, yet I would see enough to give me the horrors.
> We ran into the living area to see a cloud of, well, not darkness as much
> as
> the mere absence of light  Then something came out of that darkness,
> something with tentacles, feelers, and other limbs beyond description .
> All
> these were in a jumble extending from a scaly body.  It looked like it had
> been dredged up from the deepest ocean, like it was never meant to be
> viewed
> by man.
> I felt compelled to watch as Polly ran towards the abomination; then, she
> wrapped her arms around its body rubbing her body against the scales in
> what
> was obviously a loving embrace.  Somehow, I tore my eyes from the sight and
> there were other creatures, each more horrible to behold than the last.
> They emerged from the darkness.  Each of them caressed two or three of my
> erstwhile companions.  I saw Joe and two women fondling a particularly ugly
> crab-like monstrosity.
> Pastor, you will remember that I was always more tolerant of difference
> among people than most in our congregation.  In fact, I lost several
> friends
> chiding them for only wanting to evangelize to folk like them and reminding
> them that churches that spurned different folk would surely die.  Indeed, I
> took great pride in my advocacy of the glories of diversity.  Yet, when I
> saw Polly with the thing she was hugging, and realized that I was meant to
> join them in this union of flesh, I was overcome with revulsion.  I ran for
> my room screaming and lay in bed that night shaken to the center of my soul
> for I realized that the horror that Polly fleshly joy in the lover of my
> dreams.
> It seemed natural that such a night should end in nightmare.  I walked
> alone
> in a hot place.  Volcanos of sulfur spouted about me and a swollen red orb
> filled the sky.  The light cast by this orb was insufficient for sight, so
> I
> stumbled through bubbling pools of scalding liquid creaming with the heat
> and the terror of it all.
> I awoke and found myself alone.  I searched the entire row of houses
> finding
> no one at all.  My calls for my companions echoed through the place
> bringing
> no reply.  After searching vainly for what seemed like pourers, I made a
> humble meal of cereal and milk and sat down to consider the coming day.
> What followed were days in which I considered what I been through.  I
> realized that Joe had not told me the whole story about, his mapping of
> Europa.  He must have gained the attention of what dwelt there.  These
> beings had reached out, back across the void to our world, seeking kindred
> spirits of like mind.  They had found them here and there, disaffected
> people tired of the world we live in, searching for a new reality.
> But not all creatures could share in the presence.  My guess is that people
> who can see cannot use this sense given that I can only use it while
> wearing
> sleep shades.  Perhaps the sense of presence requires that part of the
> brain
> most of us use for sight that sight somehow drowns out the presence
> ability.
> In these days, I also considered a return to the world.  Should I go back
> to
> my family where I would be loved but would still feel myself a burden?
> Should I go back and try to rescue my hot dog cart from the police and
> start
> again living a meager existence on society's edge?  Perhaps I could find an
> office to work in, I still had the skills.  I could be beloved, inspiring,
> a
> blind guy made good.  I could be first in the affections of my co-workers
> and the first to be presumed responsible when the copier malfunctioned, the
> special employee with a special problem.
> And I am sure you are wondering why I don't return to the church.  Indeed,
> I
> did find the joy of the lord there, and went often to seek inspiration in
> the quiet of the chapel.  Yet there was always the feeling of separation
> from the rest of the congregation, of not fitting in, of being different,
> different, different, in a place that found comfort in the ordinary, a
> church that worshipped a normal God for a normal people.
> And I do not think that the good folks here would like the theology I have
> learned her.  If these creatures that I have seen are God's creations and
> if
> they share God's image, then the all mighty must be more like one for
> Lovecraft's elder gods in wondrous strangeness than the old man in the sky
> that I worshipped as a child.  I would probably be a disturbing force in
> your congregation.
> And so, I had my reasons not to care about the outside world.  My
> experience
> with the presence had left me with the feeling that the world was entirely
> caught up with appearance games that I no longer wanted to play.
> Throughout this struggle for my future, the nightmares continued one
> solitary walk after another through increasingly hostile worlds.  The
> worst,
> even worse than walks through smoggy wastelands or noxious quagmires was a
> journey over a rocky landscape on some forgotten world wandering between
> the
> stars.  The meager light of distant suns failed me as I stumbled, yet it
> showed me the great emptiness of space, a void so immense that it dwarfed
> to
> insignificance the greatest thing that man could imagine.  I woke the next
> morning whimpering in dark awe.
> I remembered my last meeting with Polly.  We embrace, hugged, but I had
> felt
> clumsy in the process, somehow embarrassed by our meeting or my unsureness
> at what I was supposed to do.  What was meant to be the overture to romance
> became a failure of my ability to show affection.  Later I learned that she
> had met someone else.
> I found myself envious of the nightmare creatures I had seen.  For all of
> their ugliness, they seemed to have the ability to show affection that I
> lacked.  Contemplating this, I found myself sinking into a well of
> self-disgust.
> Pastor, I know that you have said that we may be closest to God's grace
> when
> we are in the midnight mood of despair.  But here, feeling the
> self-loathing
> of one who cannot love, I felt close to nothing good, like I must wander
> this world alone forever.  And in this bleak mood, I pondered the coming
> day.
> I was always a lonely child and loneliness led me to take refuge in tales
> in
> which the aliens were better folk than the people I knew.  Maybe it was
> this
> peculiar inclination of mine, or maybe it was the lonely days I spent in
> this place, or maybe it was the long nights spent walking nightmare worlds,
> but my revulsion at what I had seen that crazy night was being replaced by
> longing for the community that I had experienced.
> So that when my dream companion returned to replace my solitary nightmares,
> I opened my arms without question.  I no longer cared what it looked like,
> for appetences no longer mattered to me.  I didn't care how or who it
> loved,
> or who it might love in the future.  I returned to it with relief, no, I
> should say joy, for that is what I felt.
> And its attentions were more fervent than ever before, probing deeper,
> loving more intensely.  It touched, rubbed, caressed and kissed with
> exquisite zeal as if it were a shepherd seeking out a little lost lamb.
> Like a little lost lamb, I only wanted to return to my shepherd, and to its
> fold.
> So I wait for my dream lover, my guide and friend, to return for me to take
> me to the community that I found, lost, and hope to find again.  For they
> have found a new world, a cure for the dissatisfaction I feel with the
> world
> in which I live.  Just as Paul longed to be taken from this Earth, so I
> long
> to travel to ocean depths beneath the ice, to new strange places where I
> will feel at home.  I know not what I will do when I get there, how I will
> live or all the things that I will experience.  I do know that when I
> attain
> this new realm I will not walk by sight.
>
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