A Short Story

I'm not dreadfully comfortable sharing my writing openly.... though, it's something I'm trying to get better at. So, to hopefully pry open my comfort level, here's something simple to read in the meantime. 

A Hand to Hold

              “You must be her eyes, Child.”

               The girl sat stiffly—cradled in quilts. Her head rested against the wall, her eyelids tight, dark circles forming beneath. She didn't make a sound. Six was the boy, seven next month. The girl lost sight, the small brother must see for her now. Their father placed a hand on his shoulder. He cupped the boy's chin. "Samuel.” He spoke in a low, fatherly tone. “You are her sight now. You must never leave her side.”

               The family stood around the bed of the girl dripping with silent tears. Mother ran her hands through sleepy hair. It was late into the night. Samuel's head hung low with sorrow, looking at his own tears splash onto his little leather shoes. Mother cried, which made the boy weep all the more. Father's face remained grave and stone.

               The girl stared. Blank. Colorless. Blind. She opened and closed her eyes. But no vision returned. Louise: ten years old. Eleven creeping up rather soon.

            A fall to be remembered. 'Slipped on the icy water of the frozen lake. The girl's screams dribbled down the air as she lie to bleed through the snow. A trail of red ran after the boy who dragged his sister to aid. He found them, and they carried the blind child.... only to be hit with the news all dread. Your child has lost her sight. Forever. Surely they denied it. But it became fact. No longer a fictional fear. 

          So it began. The boy used his eyes to see for two. Not only one. Years later, they laughed together, swinging their feet from the bridge across the stream. He was ten, the girl fourteen. She sill wore her hair in braids and her ankles were not yet covered. 

            He would lead her through the forest and down to the creek. He'd take her hand and gently place it into the water. He'd watch a beautiful smile stretch across her face. Her freckles danced in the sun, her golden hair glistened with beauty. Best friends, they were. Not just siblings. Till the very end.

           Years passed, and he stayed right by her side. Never left. Not even once. When she cried—so did he. When she laughed—so did her little brother. They were glued it seemed.

Eventually, she found another. He found her. They met, and everything tumbled ever so quickly. He loved her. She loved him. Along the road of life, father had gone to be with the Lord, and Samuel was the new man of the house. He was to take care of Mother and Louise. 

             The day came for Samuel to let go. The man asked Louise to marry him. She accepted. The small boy, who was now fifteen, had to give her over. To give her to another man, so that he may now be her eyes.                                                                        Her brother did not let go until the wedding day.

           Samuel remembered that night. The night she became blind. The night his father told him he'd have to see for two. The night of silent tears.

He walked her down the aisle. Hand in hand. And through a moment of tearfully bittersweet delight, he slowly placed her hand inside another's.

              His own palm felt empty now—lonely and homesick. He watched her all decorated in white. Beautiful as ever. Louise felt for his face and planted a soft kiss upon his cheek.

             “You saw the world for me.” She whispered. “I could never repay that. You gave me hope, Samuel. And I thank you. For everything.” Tears fell from both their eyes, and he let go of the pleasure of seeing for two and gave it to a new man. “You are no longer my eyes,” she spoke softly.

                                           
                                                                       “But you'll always be my best friend.”

~Sayda