"There are 45 million blind people and 135 million visually impaired people worldwide. All of them seeing the world in a different light."
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I am... No. I was an eye doctor. I study and fix eyes, so that people would view the world clearer; however, this principle of mine shattered one Tuesday morning at a public hospital I used to work at.
All of this because I made a conversation with a stranger.
It was 10 am. I sat down on the waiting area to take a break from a succesful surgery involving an eye accident of an old man . Public hospitals are commonly filled with patients; but to an unknown reason, I found myself alone staring at the clear pavement. I was eyeing the light reflected on the floor when the double doors opened.
A boy of 8, sitting on wheelchair, was guided by a woman. They moved slowly until they reached the end corner of the hall. A nurse approached them from behind the counter. While the nurse and the woman were talking, the boy looked at me. I looked back and seeing directly I saw egg-white eyes. Without pupil and retina.
"He is blinded", a man just a few inches away from me said. Out of surprise, I blinked and the connection between the boy and me was broken. I looked at my shoulders and saw a man sitting beside me.
He was an old man with untidy hair and dark clothing. He could have passed as a beggar except for the confident look in his eyes. He was looking at me intently, waiting for a response.
"Sorry?", I asked.
"The boy just got blinded.", he responded. If the man knew that I was a doctor, he did not show it. He was acting as if he knew what he was talking about; and I was just a listener and not an expert on the matter of blindness.
"Do you know the boy?" I asked.
"No. But I know this" He took out a pencil and a piece of paper from his pocket. He began drawing and scribbling; and continued "I know that the boy, probably a few hours ago, was able to see. Just by assumption, he might be playing on one of those school playground...", he stopped and began looking at the boy. He drew the way an artist would draw his subject.
I was feeling sorry for the man. He was in the wrong ward. Feeling my disinterest, he looked at me as if saying he was not crazy at all. " THE BOY GOT BLINDED BY A GHOST!", he said loud enough for our conversation.
He was crazy. My mind was racing on calling the nurses just a few steps away from us. But the nurses seemed to be absorbed with the the boy in the wheelchair.
I looked back at the man. Calmer, he whispered "The boy was playing, when a ghost approached him. The ghost was no older than the boy. They talked and played like normal kids would do. They both feel alone in the play ground." He swallowed and looked at the kid. "When the boy was about to leave, the ghost would not permit him. Probably afraid of being alone again. The boy got afraid and the ghost got angry. Just before he left, the ghost made the unthinkable. He blinded the boy by doing this."
He showed me his drawing. His hand was shaking, but the drawing was clearly haunting.
The drawing showed, two boy with their heads entertwined like a Siamese twins; only, one of the boy was thin and floating in midair.
I was terrified and felt goosebumps on my shoulders. The man, probably was dillusional. I looked at the boy away from us, and imagined the man's drawing. It was a sick and scary image.
"How did you know?", I said with my mouth dry and gasping for breath.
I waited for a reply, but all I heard was silence. I looked back and the man was placing his pencil and the folded drawing in his pocket.
"Would you like to know why the ghost did it?" he asked. I nodded.
"The ghost died in the playground 20 years ago. He was alone since then. He got no one to talk to, and no one to play with. Until that boy came." he pointed at the boy.
"They had a connection. But when the boy was leaving, the ghost could not bare to wait another eternity to find someone to play with. So instead of haunting the playground, he chose to haunt the kid by immersing his eyes with the boy's eyes. Now the ghost can see the boy all the time; while the boy see nothing but the ghost."
"That's one sick story. So who do you think you are? The Angel of Death?", I said.
As I was about to stand up, the man laughed hard. I stopped and stared at him.
"Angel of Death? You're one funny doctor. I like you.", he chuckled a bit before halting to a stop. He was silent when he whispered. "Can you keep a secret?"
Before I could reply, he moved forward. He was an inch away from me; his breathing blowing hot air against my ears; his stinch soaked my nostrils; his whisper like a thunder.
"You're the only one who thinks I'm alive"
He moved forward, burying deep inside my face, He was blocking my sight with whiteness.
The last thing I saw was an old ghost floating in front of me. His face kissing my face. Our eyes entertwined. I screamed and he screamed back at me.
From then on, I was blinded.
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