Young Writers Society

Outside, the world was perfect. How a world like this could exist – without flaws – was a mystery to me. The pine trees, looming above anything and everything, were dauntingly beautiful. The snow that fell in big, fat flakes was sharp on your skin and cool on your tongue. The crisp breeze slid through your hair and tickled the skin on your face, chapping your lips and chilling you, right down to the bone. The winter wonderland was classic beauty – sparkling, perfect snow, and trees greener than anything – it’s quite an experience, seeing something so illusory right outside your window. Who knew a world like this existed?
Inside the cabin, a fireplace warms the area around it. The crack of the flames as they lick the air above them is also something beautiful. I sit wrapped in a blanket that my grandmother once weaved for me, and its stunning colors stand out in the dull room. The cup of warm cocoa in my hands is long since forgotten as I sit – thinking about the world around me.
The world where everything is “Lydia-proof”.
They think, because I’m blind, that I don’t know of the snow on the ground, of it’s beauty. They think, because I’m blind, that I’m disabled somehow – I can’t feel a fire, I can’t see their angry expressions. They think, because I’m blind, that I am unable to maneuver around the house or get myself a cup of coffee. They think, because I’m blind, that I will never find someone to hold, someone to love.
I cast a sightless glance in my brother’s direction, the brother I love and hate at the same time. He isn’t aware that I can “see” him – curled up on the couch, looking at an old photo album. He has secluded me to this house, this jail – where I am “safe”, where I am “loved”. My brother is a successful man, he navigates swiftly through three worlds: the business world, where he has become CEO of a bank; the social world, where he met his ex-wife and current girlfriend; and my world – the blind world, the world of the disabled. His friends come over and see me, whispering quiet sympathies about both of us.
I used to hate it. I used to toss and turn in bed, sweaty and fretful. My world was full of a dark loneliness, where people looked upon me like a freak, where people pitied me when I didn’t want to be pitied. I used to curse at people, to knock over things and make it look unintentional. I used to cry myself to sleep, I used to take advantage of my brother’s so-called kindness, I used to be a hateful, terrible child. It wasn’t until I turned seventeen, when I realized that what I had was a gift.
I could see things that no one else could. A quiet woman in the corner of a bookstore – only I noticed that she wasn’t actually reading, wasn’t actually crying about her book on the holocaust. An obese patient on a medical TV show – only I could see beyond the physical, look into his mind and see all the regrets that went so far beyond weight. A man, walking down the street – he shuffles his feet and runs into me. Only I would think of stopping and asking him why he was so distracted, what was so wrong that he would not better compose himself.
I could look beyond the physical – beyond the weight, beyond the scars, beyond the things that other people couldn’t take their eyes off of. You don’t need eyes to see. The echoing in the fireplace tells me it is windy outside. The absence of a tapping foot tells me my brother is curled on the couch. The occasional sniffle tells me that he is crying.
I rise from the ground, graceful as anyone – but my brother jumps from his chair to help me. His watery voice pops the gloomy bubble of silence around the cabin. “Lydia, here.” He hands me my cane as I reach down for it. For once, I don’t resist his overly helpful grasp, just let him lead me to the kitchen.
Not being able to ever see the green on the trees, or my brother’s freckles has always been a throbbing heartache for me. My stomach churns as I hear someone exclaim, “Have you seen the trees today?” I will never experience the wonder of a tree changing colors for fall, or the mystery of a fog-covered lake, or even the comfort of my own smile. I feel like I have been given a half-life, one that is missing something vital. The world isn’t blackness – it’s full of brilliant colors, all shades of colors – but I will never see them.
But I remember the good. I will always, always remember the good – and remember that I can see things other people can’t. In a way, I’m a psychic – I can read minds when I can’t read a book. I can see a person… but not really. My “disability” will never restrict me – it will make me better.

This was fantastic. And I don't just say that to anyone, something that you will notice if you ever come across one of my other critiques - or write something really bad.

The paragraphs need to be spaced, so fix that as soon as possible. Its easier to read and you will get more reviews if you space them.

The descriptions were wonderful, not only of the places and things but also of the people. I love the way she notices things that others don't. I love how she sees people the way they really are, and not just the way they look. I think I relate to this because I am aware of my own inability to feel before I look, understand before I judge. Everyone has that automatic impulse to think they know something just by looking at it, but not everyone sees it as a curse, a disease.

My only suggestion would be to change that first sentence. "Outside, the world was perfect." Although the rest of the story was miles and miles and miles away from cliche, this first sentence might trick someone into thinking the opposite. I don't think I truly know the story well enough to even give a suggestion on what other beginning would be better, but focus on the character and try to think up something slightly less deceptive - I wouldn't want anyone to read that and then not read the rest just because they assumed it was no good, they would be missing alot.

I will most certainly read and review whatever else you post. This was wonderful.

(Oh, and I don't know if you read the rules but you're supposed to review before you post. If you post a story before reviewing people sometimes get annoyed and refuse to read your story for ONLY that reason. Just warning you.)

This confused me a little; has the main character always been blind, or became blind in childhood?

Because if she's always been blind it makes little sense (for example mentioning the colour of the blanket); if colour etc is something you've never experienced, how can you have an idea of it?

And surely if she's always been blind, her family would be used to it and would know she wasn't helpless. Obviously if you're blind you must be aware of missing something other people have, but if you've been blind all your life you can't exactly miss it, and you can't see beyond the visual world if you don't see it.

That just bothered me a bit. If you're writing from a blind characters point of view, perhaps try and avoid visual senses completely and try and rely on descriptions of the world through other senses (sounds, touch etc).

I liked your writing style, and I thought there was some lovely description, but it was a little confusing.

Wonderful description at the beginning...I was just randomly scrolling through the young writers society homepage, not looking at anything in particular, and your words caught me--I could see in my minds eye everything you were talking about.

I saw someone comment before that you ought to space your paragraphs, and I definitely second that Without spaces, the whole thing looks like a jumble of little black hard-to-read letters. Yours is on the shorter side, so it was better, but still it is hard to read endless text. Something that may help is adding more dialogue--that will give you lots of one-liners as well as lots of space.

Anyway, good job. Keep up with those lovely descriptions! (but don't overdo them. Not that you have, or that you will...just a little reminder

This was a very moving story. The feelings of the narrator were well-conveyed and I liked that. Have you considered using more well-developed paragraphs perhaps? That might make the story easier to read, that is if you wrote it like that intentionally. But all in all, very good story.

good story, but YOU NEED TO SPACE YOUR PARAGRAPHS. its confusing if you dont, and like the other person said, there are some issues with it. like the family. idk... maybe im wrong again, but it seems to me, is she blind or not? she cannot see what most people see, but she can see other things? she can sense people's emotins, perhaps even read their thoughts?