View Unseen
I am a crack and I appear when I am least expected.
All it usually takes is a little gap, a fissure, a rupture for me to appear.
Then, all falls into place, except for the rare case when someone is so eager
to avoid me that they are in a rush to start repairs. This is not necessarily
bad, except if someone is so used to darkness, that even the slightest traces
of light cause great damage.
She hadn’t eaten anything for five days. She had
barely drunk some drops of water. On the first day, he didn’t take her
seriously. Next day, he started to worry. This didn’t seem like a simple diet.
Did she suffer from a rare form of acute anorexia? Was she sick? When she
explained the reasons, he was even more worried.
“If they can handle it, I
can.”
“Not all of them handle
it. Most of them die.”
“Then I’ll die too.”
Little by little, he lost his patience. He tried to
decode the symptom, to explain her antics, but he missed the point. I was the
point. Not all people can see the crack, especially when I’m still small. Only
the most sensitive eyes, the most sensitive of souls can see the light, gliding
through.
“Stay with me.”
“Don’t make it more
difficult.”
“I can’t live without
this,” he said, showing her heart.
“Without what?”
“The treasure you hide.”
“How do you see it then?”
“It is transparent to my
eyes.”
She smiled. He held her tight. That was a precious
smile. She didn’t have the strength, he didn’t have the knowledge. So, I kept
on existing and expanding. This is not strange; if you’re a crack, you wish to
expand.
He tried reasoning. He tried his most powerful
weapon, numbers, only to realize it was useless in this case. She wasn’t
interested in numbers and statistics. She had studied them for long, but nothing
remained imprinted in her brain. She might have exhausted her ability to
memorize during her younger years, when she had to learn words and numbers by
heart, which resulted in useless, forgotten information occupying every corner
of her brain. What truly counted was the big picture. And that big picture
indicated she had no right to eat, when there was even one person on the planet
who could not afford food. The light from the crack was wedged into her thought
like a bullet and soon transformed into obsession.
“Do you see the crack up there?” she asked, staring at me.
All he had seen was the crack in her heart. All he had felt was his beloved
cracking inside.
The scant light that had pierced into the room
caught his eye. He wasn’t the kind of man that tolerated cracks, yet it was
already too late. When she approached, before she even had the time to touch
me, I decided to take over. She felt she was getting lighter by the minute,
light as a summer breeze. She slipped through the little opening, effortlessly,
like a drop of water finds its way on a textured surface, like smoke creeps
easily though doors and windows not secured tight enough. When she opened up
her eyes, the light was blinding. She had to blink several times, before she
could face the radiance of the place.
This is my purpose and the purpose of every crack.
To indicate another view to reality, unseen under normal circumstances. Some
see me as a flaw that needs to be fixed, others are blinded by the beauty they
meet. Some strong eyes adjust soon enough to enjoy the view. I might seem like
crossroads, if you have to compare me with something. There is a choice of
going back, looking the other way. There are the sideways of delusions, while
ahead lies the difficult, yet the most rewarding road to the truth. Some even
fail to choose a path and drift away. The perks of being a crack include the
joy of watching people choose, once the light sneaks in.
She looked around. She only saw happiness.
“I’ll stay,” she thought
to herself, embracing the light I had offered her.
Mileva Anastasiadou is a neurologist, living and working in
Athens, Greece. Her work can be found in many journals and anthologies, such as
the Molotov Cocktail, Maudlin house, Menacing Hedge, Midnight Circus, Big
Echo:Critical SF, Jellyfish Review, Asymmetry Fiction and others. She has
published two books in Greek and a collection of short stories in English (Once
Upon a Dystopia by Cosmic Teapot Publication).
Tags:
Short Fiction