What the Blind Man Sees

What the Blind Man Sees

by David Santana

The constant chittering of the crickets is my only companion this night. The lights of the city have been left behind and only the starlight permeates the darkness under the new moon. I place my duffel in the low grass and kneel down next to it. The grass has yet to collect dew and is very dry and almost crackling. The autumn has only just begun and yet the leaves of nearby trees already put out their pungent scent of changing. But only the cloying taste of the not-as-brisk air touches my tongue. What the blind man sees…..

I reach into my duffel and pull out the white strip of fabric I had packed. Smooth as silk with a fresh fragrance of lilacs. I press it against my nose, and I make note to tell my housekeeper to stop using fragrance-scented fabric softener. I take one last look at what little I could see under the starlight, and then I bind my eyes with the fabric. The cool silk races around the back of my head under my long curls and settles into a knot. I adjust the fit and set it snugly against my eyes. Standing up, I listen for the soft rustle of the grass under me. I can taste the salt in the air; the smell of the sea not too far off. A bird swoops low in the night. Then I realize I was mistaken. I hear the flap of leather and I know it is one of the fruit bats from a nearby cave. What the blind man sees….

My mind wanders to Morgan. I watch him train himself; his body moving fluidly hitting their targets, his arms reaching out to his weapons and striking with accuracy, his marksmanship always on point. Yet he is completely blind. A certain calm and confidence comes with each move. Not a hint of hesitation. And he would not be the top assassin if he could not adapt and survive in the field. His quiet haughtiness and aloof attitude make him of folklore status among the younger initiates. How I would love to remove that infuriating smug look off his face. Still there is a natural beauty to his movement. It can be almost hypnotic while he practices; hitting every target as if he was sure it was there. What the blind man sees….

I strike at the tree I knew was there, my foot sinking deep into the bark. I feel the spray of bark splinters as my leg swings away. My right arm bends deep to snatch a stone on the ground and with my continued swing, I throw it and strike another tree with it. I am rewarded with a resounding ‘twock’. My next strike is to swing my other leg at another tree that was there….but it wasn’t. I spin to the ground and land with a rustling thud. Even with stationary objects I still have a lack of perception when I do not see them. Knowing where each target was, I still missed one. I lift the blindfold and see I had missed my mark by half an inch. Cursing, I lift myself off the ground. I murmur Morgan’s name under my breath and lower the blindfold over my eyes again. Lowering myself to the ground, I meditate to become one with my surroundings again. What the blind man sees…..

“You ain’t gonna do anyone any good unless, you find your center, boy,” my teacher would say, and smack me in the head with the butt of his staff. “You need to be in a place where nothin’ touches you, but you can touch everything.” He would grin at me while I seek that inner place where you are the master of all that is near you. And still he would distract me. “You need ta learn what Morgan learned, boy. He has that place and nutin' touches him. “And I would open an eye and see Morgan’s trainer douse him with water and beat him with his staff. And Morgan would just sit there as if nothing was happening, his face straight as if he was looking at something. Oh how I was taught to hate him. What was he looking at? What the blind man sees…

And still I can find my center, I can enter the place where I am in control and nothing can turn me from my intent, except for that look on his face! The stare from eyes that didn’t see. The fluid movement of his attacks. He was the perfect man to be an assassin. The will and the weapon. I was still but a mere shadow to him. But I will persevere. I will reach his ability, his grace, and his determination. One day I shall close my eyes and see what the blind man sees.