I know I haven’t posted in a while and I apologize. These past two weeks have been crazy and hectic and I’ve barely had any time to open my laptop, much less write an actual story! Nevertheless here is a story that I have been working on for a while that I think, due to the craziness of these past two weeks, works perfectly. So please enjoy the story “I Can See Hope”
I Can See Hope
I can see hope.
I know this sounds strange, like I’m the person on the street that yells out to passing cars or the person you don’t want your kids to be talking to, but I promise you that I’m not crazy.
When I was younger I used to think it was a small haze that everybody had, only each had a different color, in other words a Red haze is a hope for love, green haze is a hope for money, purple haze is a hope for fame, et cetera. When I learned of synesthesia, I thought maybe I had that instead, which isn’t a bad thing.
Only this wasn’t some form of synesthesia, because the red haze covering my best friend for years slowly faded. As he began to lose hope, the color around him died.
I thought it strange at first, until he called me over one day and his hue was the most vibrant red I’ve ever seen. He proceeded to tell me that he met a woman he could spend the rest of his life with, the woman of his dreams. I couldn’t focus on the rest of his story because the smile he gave matched his haze perfectly.
The dots were connected and I knew then that I had a gift. The only thing was that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see the haze above my own head, I couldn’t see my own hope.
As time went on and I started to enter the working world, I began to notice that the general haze of the population began to darken. I thought that perhaps I was just losing my gift. However the haze above others didn’t just disappear, it started turning black. I’ve come to the conclusion that this blackening of the haze is not only a losing of hope, but a hatred of others who have received or earned what was once hoped for.
You could imagine that seeing people in this light, or lack thereof, could make it difficult to talk to them or even be in the same room as them.
Once I had to talk to my boss and, instead of focusing on his words, I only saw on the dust-like cloud that was covering his head. Needless to say he wasn’t too happy about our conversation, but I guess he wasn’t too happy in general anyway.
It’s sad really, because once someone begins to feel anger toward those more successful or those who have found love, it’s only a matter of time before they become engulfed by this darkness. But it’s not my place to do anything about it, but why then did I have this gift?
There’s a distinct difference between the black cloud of hate and just losing hope in general. I’ve seen both and losing hope is much worse than having hate. There is no motivation for lost hope, there is to will or reason to continue, and that is the saddest part.
I worked at a relief organization one year. We brought families back to their homes that were torn apart by tornadoes. As we drove up to what was once their house, I saw the hue of green and blue rise and fall when they saw the wreckage. I saw the color drain from both the air around them and their face as the body of their children were taken out of the rubble one by one. There was no color, no hatred, nothing other than pure, unadulterated pain, horror, sadness.
No hope. That’s what I saw. A complete and utter lack of hope for anything.
Sometimes I wonder if this gift has helped me to find hope is dire situations, or if it has caused my faith in humanity to be ruined. I want the former over the latter.
I saw the red hope in my son fade as he realizes he won’t be able to know love at school, not without ridicule and pain. I saw the hope for him shine over his head again when he brought a nice boy home and, at the same time, my wife’s hope for grandchildren vanish as she understood what was happening. I remember explaining the possibilities of adoption to her and slowly seeing that haze float back over her like a cloud drifting through the sky.
I remember seeing the color drain from my son, his husband, and their daughter, when we found out that my wife had Alzheimers Disease. The pain in their eyes as they realized that she was nearing the end. There was no hope in them. But interestingly enough, she always had hope. For what, I’m not sure, but there was an unmistakable color surrounding her head. I myself can only dream that she held onto some sort of hope from her childhood, something to get her through this difficult and trying time.
As she went, I saw the pain in my son’s eyes. I felt the pain in my own heart.
I see hope, at least I saw hope. You see, my ability, along with my sanity, has been very questionable lately and I can’t imagine why. Could it be that I’ve spent so much time in the minds of others that my own mind has gone dusty with neglect? Or perhaps I’ve lived too many lives, absent from my own, engulfed in the daily routine of my neighbor or the person that sits across from me on the bus.
I remember seeing a lot of hope come and go from other people, but I have no clue where my own hope was. I don’t know if I even had my own hope, or if my hope was lost in the channels of those around me.
I knew the end was coming and, all around me, people began to grow older as well. There was one place that I wanted to go above all else. At the top of the highest hill, overlooking our entire town.
That night, looking out, seeing the splotches of haze of each individual, a shooting star dashed across the sky. I looked up then down, and saw, all at once, the aura of hope rise up from different places. But it wasn’t one shooting star, it was a meteor shower, and, one by one, colors of purple, red, blue, orange, and any other color you could think of covered my little town in a brilliant display of light. In that moment I saw more hope than I have ever seen while people wished upon rocks as if they were stars.
Thank you so much for reading this! Did you like it? Hate it? Let me know in the comments section below andI’ll make sure to answer you!
Want more short stories? Like and subscribe to my blog and you’ll get a new short story every week!
Thank you all again!