A Man Who Had No Eyes

by natiq ali

(Note: The Monitor is obligated to Gary Wunder, President of the Missouri subsidiary and editorial manager of The Blind Missourian for drawing this story out into the open. MacKinlay Kantor isn't especially noted for his way of thinking about visual deficiency, however maybe he ought to be.)

A poor person was descending the road similarly as Mr. Parsons rose up out of his inn.

He was a visually impaired homeless person, conveying the conventional battered stick, and pounding his way before him with a wary, half-quick exertion of the blind. He was a shaggy, thick-necked individual; his jacket was oily about the lapels and pockets, and his hand spread over the stick's law breaker with a worthless kind of sticking. He wore a dark pocket threw behind him. Evidently he had something to sell. The air was rich with spring; sun was warm and yellowed on the black-top. Mr. Parsons, remaining there before his lodging and taking note of the rattle clatter approach of the blind man, felt an abrupt and stupid kind of pity for every visually impaired animal.

What's more, thought Mr. Parsons, he was exceptionally happy to be alive. A couple of years back he had been minimal in excess of a gifted worker; how he was effective, regarded, appreciated. . .Protection. . .Also, he had done only it, independent, battling underneath handicaps. . .what's more, he was as yet youthful. The blue demeanor of spring, straight from its recollections of breezy cools and rich growth, could excite him with enthusiasm.

He stepped forward similarly as the tap-tapping blind man cruised him by. Rapidly the pitiful individual turned.

"Tune in, guv'nor. One moment of your time."

Mr. Parsons stated, "It's late. I have an arrangement. Do you need me to give you something?"

"I ain't no homeless person guv'nor. Of course I ain't. I got a helpful little article here"- - he bobbled until he could press a little item into Mr. Parsons' hand- - "that I sell. One buck. Best cigarette lighter made."

Mr. Parsons remained there, fairly irritated and humiliated. He was an attractive figure with his flawless dark suit and dim cap and malacca stick. Obviously the man with the cigarette lighters couldn't see him. . ."However, I don't smoke," he said.

"Tune in. I wager you realize bounty individuals who smoke. Decent present," coaxed the man. "Furthermore, Mr., you wouldn't see any problems with getting a poor person out?" He clung to Mr. Parsons' sleeve.

Mr. Parsons moaned and felt in his vest pocket. He brought out two half dollars and squeezed them into the man's hand. "Positively. I'll get you out. As you state, I can offer it to somebody. Perhaps the lift kid would- - by. He faltered, not wishing to be rude and curious, even with a visually impaired merchant. "Have you lost your sight altogether?"

The decrepit man took the two half dollars. "Fourteen years, guv'nor." Then he included with a crazy kind of pride: "Westbury, sir. I was one of them.'

"Westbury," rehashed Mr. Parsons. "Ok, yes. The substance blast. . .The papers haven't referenced it for quite a long time. And yet it should be probably the best calamity in- - "

"They've all overlooked it." The individual moved his feet tediously. "I let you know, guv'nor, a man who was in it remember about it. Last thing I at any point saw was C shop going up in one thousand smirch, and gas pouring in the entirety of the busted windows."














Mr. Parsons hacked. Yet, the visually impaired seller was found the train of his one emotional memory. What's more, likewise, he was imagining that there may be all the more half dollars in Mr. Parsons ' pocket.

"Simply consider it, guv'nor. There was 108 individuals executed, around 200 harmed, and more than 50 of them lost their eyes. Visually impaired as bats- - " He grabbed forward until his messy hand leaned against Mr. Parsons ' coat. "I let you know, sir, there wasn't nothing more regrettable than that in the war. On the off chance that I had lost my eyes in the war, alright. I would have been very much dealt with. Be that as it may, I was only a worker, working for what was in it. Also, I got it. You're darn right I got it, while the business people were making their batter! They was safeguarded, don't stress over that. They- - "

"Protected," rehashed his audience. "Truly. That is the thing that I sell- - "

"You need to know how I lost my eyes," cried the man. "All things considered, here it is!" His words fell with the unpleasant and contemplated dramatization of a story frequently told, and told for cash. "I was there in C shop, finally the people hurrying out. Out noticeable all around there was an opportunity, even with structures detonating both ways. A great deal of folks made it safe out the entryway and escaped. What's more, exactly when I was about there, creeping along between those enormous tanks, a person behind me snatches my leg. He says, 'Let me pass, you- - to' Maybe he was nuts. I don't know. I attempt to excuse him in my heart, guv'nor. In any case, he was greater than me. He pulled me back and climbs directly over me! Stomps on me into the soil and he gets out, and I lie there with all that toxic substance gas pouring down on all sides of me, and fire and stuff. . ." He gulped - a contemplated cry - and stood moronically eager. He could envision the following words: (Tough karma, my man. Presently, I need to- - were) "That is the story, guv'nor."

The spring wind shrilled past them, soggy and shuddering.

"Not exactly," said Mr. Parsons.

The visually impaired merchant shuddered absurdly. "Not exactly? What do you mean you- - "

"The story is valid," Mr. Parsons stated, "then again, actually it was the reverse way around."

"Reverse way around?" he croaked unpleasantly. "State, guv'nor- - "

"I was in C shop, " said Mr. Parsons. "It was the reverse way around. You were the kindred who pulled back on me and moved over me. You were greater than I was, Markwardt."

The visually impaired man represented quite a while, gulping dryly. He swallowed: "Parsons. By God. By God! I thought you- - " and afterward he shouted savagely: "YES. Perhaps SO. Perhaps SO. Be that as it may, I'M BLIND! I'M BLIND, AND YOU'VE BEEN STANDING HERE LETTING ME SPOUT TO YOU, AND LAUGHING AT ME EVERY MINUTE! I'M BLIND."

Individuals in the road went to gaze at him.

"YOU GOT AWAY, BUT I'M BLIND! DO YOU HEAR? I'M"

"Well," said Mr. Parsons, "don't make such a line about it, Markwardt. . .So am I