Look

Darkness enveloped him, caressed his senses; he felt he could almost touch it. He sighed, knowing he had to open his eyes; he hated this moment, this return to reality. The absolute darkness beneath his eyelids gave him a sense of relative safety, silence. Meanwhile, the night, reigning over the city, was bright. Illuminated by a thousand streetlights, windows, and car headlights, it was little different from day. Except it was cooler, much cooler. He disliked the summer heat; it exhausted him, sapping all his energy and strength. That's why he only came alive after dark, like a nighttime thug, leaving home late at night to hunt. Who was he? A hunter, a policeman, or perhaps a fisherman hoping for the catch of a lifetime? No, he was none of the above. So? A thief, a murderer? That would be closer to the truth. But the truth could be presented in many ways; he simply was...

He slowly rose from the ground and set off. He didn't know where he was going, never knew the ultimate destination of his nightly wanderings. He walked through the half-sleeping city, passing streets, squares, and green spaces. He stopped at one of the apartment blocks. He used to love watching them, watching the lights go out in the windows. He'd been a little boy then, dreaming that children like him went to bed at night, their parents reading them bedtime stories, kissing them goodnight, and then turning out the lights... Nonsense! He knew it now. He knew that every apartment, every house, was nothing more than a warehouse for human secrets and dramas. So he stood and watched the apartment blocks, wondering if this was it yet. He decided he had to keep going. He closed his eyes, trying to see the path he should take, but he saw nothing at all, only darkness. If anything could intrigue him, he would probably be surprised. He always saw the path. Well, he thought, this had to be handled differently. He sat down on a nearby bench, calmed himself, and then allowed his most animalistic senses to find their way. His nostrils flared, his ears began to quiver. Smell and hearing went on a search. Each one ran along the streets so familiar to him, peering into doorways and windows, drawing closer with each passing moment. Heartbeats, whispers, the scent of sleep, of proximity—nothing escaped their notice. He heard the murmur of a tear running down his cheek, picking it out from the flood of tears flowing through the city that night. A moment later, he smelled fear, regret, uncertainty. His senses returned, hammering hundreds of sounds and scents into his head. He vomited. He wasn't God, and the avalanche of sensations nearly crushed him. He looked at the grass, at the blood, vomiting blood. His time was running out, he had felt it for a long time. How much longer did he have? He didn't know. Time didn't apply to him; it was defined by the word: forever. He shook off his gloomy thoughts and set off. He had to hurry; the night was long enough to claim the lives of thousands, but it might be too short to save even one. And he knew he only had one attempt, one shot. Many people had seen him heading towards his destination; for some, he was a gust of wind, light and refreshing, for others, a heavy and menacing storm. Did they know who was passing them? No. It was better, safer for them... Within minutes, he was there, knowing which apartment block, which room. He quickly found a place to hide. He sat cross-legged, a clod of earth at his feet, picked it up, and put it in his mouth. He liked the taste of earth, remembered how it had changed over the years, growing bitter and astringent. "From dust you are..." he had heard those words somewhere before, unsure why they rang in his head. The earth dissolved in his mouth, lost its flavor, and he spat out the little sand that remained on his tongue, dust. The beginning and end of everything. He closed his eyes. He flew away...

It was an ordinary apartment, like hundreds of others he'd visited. He peeked into his parents' bedroom. They were sleeping. He approached the woman, placed his hand on her chest, listened to her breathing, to the beating of her mother's heart, and poured a little hope into it. Then he approached the man, touched his forehead, delved into his thoughts, and gave him courage and strength. They no longer needed him; they had each other, and though they probably didn't realize it, they were strong enough to face the inevitable. Nearby, in a tiny bed, a baby lay, looking up at him with wide eyes. Yes, children see much more. He made a silly face, a smile flitted across the tiny little thing's face, stroked her tiny head, and brought beautiful dreams, full of color and music, into her. He went to the next room. He looked around: a desk, a computer, a bookcase, an ordinary room, an ordinary girl. Except there were no ordinary people. He approached her bed; she was sleeping fitfully, nervously. There were dried tears on her cheeks. He wiped them away, and what was left he placed to his heart. He had to feel her pain, understand; tears could convey it. He looked at her intently. Was she pretty, ugly, ordinary? He didn't know, he didn't care. She was certainly young, she couldn't have been more than twenty, but to him she was a child. He lay down next to her, hugged her, and entered her mind, her dream.

Blood, white, light, darkness hit him with such force that for a moment he couldn't recover. He shook himself and dismissed the images. He found her quickly; after all, this was his world. She was sitting in a corner, covering her eyes with her hands. He slowly approached her, brushed her shoulder with his fingertips, and said, "Look at me. Raise your head and look, you can still see." She uncovered her eyes. For a moment, he thought they were the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. Too bad that didn't matter now.

"Who are you?" "

A human," she asked. "A human," he replied. "Just like you, almost like you," he corrected himself. He took her hand, helped her stand, waited a moment for her to regain control, then pulled her along. She complied, instinctively trusting him, feeling he didn't want to hurt her. They passed through door after door, finally in one of the corridors she smelled a strangely familiar scent. For a moment, she couldn't place it. "A hospital," she screamed. "Jesus, take me away from here, I beg you, don't make me stay here..." Calmly, without the slightest hurry, he took her face in his hands, looked deep into her eyes, and said.

"Don't be afraid, you're with me; nothing's in danger now. I just wanted to show you a few things... I wanted you to experience your own nightmare, the places you fear, as well as the ones you dream of. Because you see, even the most terrifying dream fades before the reality that might await you. I'm here so you can understand that," he added. For a brief moment, she looked into his eyes, then nodded barely perceptibly. He took her hand and they walked down the corridor, passing room after room, only he knew where they were headed. They entered a small room where a woman lay in a hospital bed, tears streaming from beneath her closed eyelids, running down her cheek, lips, chin, and then ending their journey, dripping onto the pillow.

"Who is she? Why is she crying?" he asked.

"You," he replied. "You after the surgery. She's crying because she's happy, everything worked out, she won't go blind anymore, she'll see normally, and those beautiful eyes will charm everyone around her. In a few days, she'll forget the fear, the pain, and she'll be happy with the decision she'd made, the decision to have the surgery." She might even forget about the suffering too quickly, both before and after the surgery, but we can't blame her for that, she's young, full of life... Human nature won't let her remember for too long... – he pondered for a moment.

– So I'll see? Will everything work out? – The question was directed at him. He hated these moments, the hope in her voice, the pleading eyes. He could have lied, of course. He just never did.

– I don't know – he answered honestly. He saw the glow fading in her eyes, cursing himself for his lack of emotion, of feeling. – It's not up to me. I can't decide that, and even if I could, I wouldn't tell you. You have to choose your own path, face your own destiny. I just want to show you a few possibilities, you make the rest... You make the choice. – He looked at her and thought about how lost and scared they always were when they had to make a decision on their own, and the game was just beginning. He took her hand again,

"We have to move on, are you ready?" he asked. She didn't say anything, just headed for the exit. They were still in the hospital, walking down a long corridor, passing door after door. The girl was no longer afraid of this building. She also began to trust her guide implicitly, knowing that as long as he was with her, nothing bad could happen to her. Meanwhile, they were approaching another room, and a noise, the sounds of bustle and commotion emanated from it. They stopped at the door, and he looked her in the eye and said, "This will be the most terrifying sight you've ever seen, but don't look away, or you'll be staring into the eyes of your worst nightmare, all your fears and anxieties. Remember, this isn't real; this is just one of the alternatives, not necessarily the real one. Ready?" They entered the room. The bed was surrounded by people in white coats, whispering among themselves. He released the girl's hand, allowing her to see what was happening by the bed. They hadn't expected this. The patient's eyes were bandaged. She fought the doctors, trying to rip it off her face, but finally succeeded. They saw sunken eye sockets filled with what had once been green eyes. Now they were seeping out in a brown, rotten-smelling goo. So what if he couldn't feel, that he was devoid of emotion? This shocked even him. He looked at his charge. She stood mesmerized, gazing at the horror unfolding, gazing at her own agony. "Enough," he said. "Step aside." When he saw the girl unresponsive, he forcibly pulled her aside. She was calm; he knew what that illusory veil of peace meant. The woman on the bed screamed, "Why?" "Oh, how he wanted to leave that room, not because he was terrified by what was happening around him; he had seen far worse, but the suffering of the innocent always had that effect on him. It made him feel so tiny and insignificant. Sometimes he forgot he was only human. His protégé looked at him with a strange expression, her eyes slowly losing color; they were no longer green, but gray. "Why did you show me this, why did you kill the hope that had barely sprouted in my heart? Why don't you just kill me? You're just making me watch all this." He calmed down, knowing she was in shock, from which she was already starting to recover. "I didn't show it, your mind gave you this image. You can't blame me, not yet. When this is all over, you can accuse me of anything, but for now, blame only yourself, your fears, the terrors you can't overcome. Blame me for all the evil in the world, but not this..." He fell silent, wondering if he hadn't overdone it, and decided he hadn't. "What doesn't kill you..."

"I'm sorry," he heard a soft voice say, looking at her. "Well, he was right after all, she was already a lot stronger. I wonder what she'll be like before the game ends.

" "No, I'm sorry, I behaved inappropriately." He smiled at her, good manners are key. He looked around the room, the buzz of voices slowly fading, people slowly moving away.

"What's going on? Is she...?

" "No, not yet, in a moment," he replied. "Look at that woman in white, do you know who she is? Yes, you're right, it's Death, she's already here, it'll be easy now, simple, and painless." With that, he gave Death a bow. They knew each other, they'd never exchanged a word, but they understood each other perfectly, maybe they were friends, maybe lovers? He looked at her and thought about how anyone could be afraid of such a beautiful and delicate person, whose warmth was palpable. The voice of "his sheep" snapped him out of his reverie.

"Where will she take her?" Another question he didn't know the answer to.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe everywhere, or maybe nowhere, nothingness. I can't answer that question for you; it's beyond my comprehension. Are you ready to continue your journey? Cross the final threshold?

" "Do I have to?" he heard instead of an answer

. "No, you don't have to, you can turn back now, you can always back out, but then the answer to your question will hang in the air. You won't know it. It's your life, your choice." With that, he walked to the door, opened it, and stopped at the threshold, waiting, understanding what was happening in the girl's heart. She could wake up and end this nightmare, banish it from her body, mind, and dream. But human nature is intriguing, somewhat curious... Not even a minute had passed, and she was standing next to him, clutching his hand, ready for the final stage.

"Should I be afraid?" she asked. He looked at her, and smiled warmly.

"Nothing more terrible than what you saw will ever happen to you," he replied. They crossed the threshold and flew into the darkness. Here he truly felt at home, the blackness embracing him like a lover, dark and gloomy, undiluted by stars, lanterns, or any light. His companion, however, didn't like what she saw, or rather, what she didn't see. She was blind. She began to scream. He approached her, embraced her, and gently hugged her. "Relax, I told you that nothing bad could happen to you with me. Don't be afraid, you're safe, I'll protect you." He didn't know why he was saying this; he'd seen it in a movie and decided to try. He knew she'd be of no use to him if she was upset; he wouldn't be able to help her because he'd run out of time. Ironic, if he had too much for himself, he often didn't have enough time to help anyone. Apparently, that was how it had to be. The girl calmed down, feeling his closeness, his reassuring warmth.

"What happened? Why is it so dark in here?" she asked, praying she wouldn't hear the answer. "You went blind, you abandoned the operation, and darkness descended. You should be happy, you're whole, one hundred percent healthy, young, and beautiful. You have only one flaw: you're blind, you don't have the slightest chance of seeing a single image for the rest of your life. The darkness won't leave you." He fell silent; sometimes it was better not to say anything. He couldn't see her, he was as blind as she was, but he had an advantage over her, he could feel her, he could almost see her; after all, the darkness was one of his lovers... "You see, darkness can also be loved. Living in the dark has a great advantage: each new day, each minute is one great adventure, everything around you is simply unknown, waiting to be discovered, to be known. You won't be able to see objects; you'll be able to feel them, understand their structure. Be a part of their lives."

– I don’t know if I understand you – she interrupted him – And I don’t know if I want to understand what you’re talking about – He knew it wouldn’t be easy to explain it to her, it was almost like describing a scent, impossible, at best it could be compared to another one.

"Concentrate," he said to her, "you were holding my hand almost the entire time. Can you tell me anything about it?" "Yes, it's big, strong, and..." she stammered, unable to remember anything else. After all, it's just a hand, what can be said about it? Nothing. He slipped his hand into hers.

"Touch it, don't try to imagine what it looks like, it won't help, try to get to know it, feel it. Break the barrier between seeing and feeling." He waited, knowing he had won, feeling the fingertips on his hands, at first cautiously, timidly touching his skin, then bolder, more confidently, one might even say sensually.

"Describe them, tell me what they look like," he asked.

"They're big, strong, and powerful, and warm, hot, they could burn, they're full of scars, very rough, yet strangely delicate, and they're... safe." "Safe?"

"You won't understand, I can't explain it, the security they provide, the feeling of peace..." He didn't reply. He hadn't expected the girl to cope with the new reality so quickly. He understood what she was talking about, thinking about how people were so different. "Try to explore the room we're in, feel it, discover its scents, its sounds. You don't have to rush, we have plenty of time." With that, he sat on the floor and listened to his protégé, as she slowly and carefully moved around the room, touching objects, sniffing, and listening. He envied her; he would gladly wander around the room himself, discovering its nooks and crannies, its secrets. But he didn't want to disturb her, distract her. After a while, she sat down next to him. "It's not as scary as I imagined; I'd even say it's, you know... exciting, not to mention arousing..." He felt her blush as she said the last words. What a new experience for her.

"I didn't tell you one thing," he began, "listen to this." A murmur of voices began to drift in from the distance: "Look at that, my, how beautiful... look at that guy, he's divine, but he has an ass... you see that wonderful sunset..." The admiration lasted a moment longer, then vanished. "You see, there are many things in the world you can't see, touch, hear, or feel. They are beautiful things, I won't mention the bad ones. You have to wonder if you can handle the knowledge that you'll never see them, and the wonderful feeling of exploring in the dark might tire you out someday. You can't eat cream puffs your whole life just because they taste good..." Did she understand what he was trying to convey? He hoped so. "I don't like cream puffs," he heard; he knew she was lost, tired. He had had enough too, grabbed her hand and cheerfully called out, "The last one in the water is a rotten egg," and he was already running towards the ocean. The girl looked around in amazement: the beach, the palm trees, the sun, just like in tropical postcards. She didn't even wonder how it was possible; she quickly ran towards the water, submerged herself, surrendered to the wave. It was wonderful. Suddenly, doubts gripped her.

"Is this a new test?

" "No, there will be no more tests today; let's say, a reward, a moment of rest." He said this and immersed himself in the water. He liked swimming, it was when he relaxed. He regretfully decided that the lagoon was better than his shower. Well, "when you don't have what you like..." He ran out of the water and lay down on the sand, the warm, pleasant breeze drying his body. "I could use a vacation," he thought. He knew there was nothing to hope for, he didn't get vacations, never... She lay down next to him, happiness written all over her face.

"What will I do? Which way will I go?" she asked.

"I don't know, you don't know yet either. Remember, every choice you make will be good; what you've seen are just images, not necessarily real." I showed them to you so you could acquire a certain wisdom, a philosophy... The choice is yours. You'll be afraid, but you'll decide, and it will be the right path. I can't help you anymore.

"Who are you? My Guardian Angel? That's why you're helping me through this? Right?" "Should I tell the truth or lie?" He faced a dilemma again, choosing honesty.

"I'm not your Guardian Angel, I'm not an Angel at all. Let's say I'm a dream, a dream that will soon end, and you'll wake up without remembering it. All that will remain is the strength I gave you and a kind of wisdom. In a few moments, you won't remember me..." "No!!! I'll never forget you, what you did for me." She spoke in a raised voice; he wanted to believe her. He stood up, walked over to her, ruffled her hair, and walked away toward the water. The girl tilted her face to the sun, letting the rays tickle her skin. She began to wonder who the little boy with golden hair who had just spoken to her was. She couldn't remember, but it seemed it didn't matter.

He returned to his body; it was almost dawn, the darkness giving way to light. He got up, stretched his stiff bones, and headed home. He'd rest for a while and then go to work. An ordinary day awaited him; after all, he was only human. And the girl? He didn't know; he'd probably make the right decision...