This is for the Writer's Anonymous One-Word Prompt Challenge. Sorry it's so late.

An explosion rocked the building, and the last thing Ted Starling ever saw was Amy Cahill's terrified face. And then everything went black, for the rest of his life.

He lay in the sterile hopsital bed, still for many weeks, having not the strength to open his eyes. He felt nothing but a throbbing pain behind his eyes, and many a night was spent in horrible agony.

Finally, he opened his eyes. He saw nothing but a suffocating blackess that choked and clawed at his throat. Shutting his eyes, he shook his head and tried again.

And that's when he realized. He was blind. The darkness had become a monster, the light, a dead friend. His eyes opened and he cried, screaming, "Someone please help me! The dark! It's so dark!"

His hands clawed at nothing but air, and to him, it was dark, empty space. He was alone, alone in his world of darkness.

His cries rent the still silence of the hospital corriders. "Someone! Help me!" The blankets twisted around his body, and what was once was security, was now filled with horror.

Rolling away, he felt the IV needle in his arm pull out, and he hit the floor hard. The floor was frigid. Before he knew what was happening, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he was out cold.

When he awoke, he was back in his bed, with his IV needle stuck securely back in his arm. He had forgotten about his blindness, and once again, when he opened his eyes, he was startled by the chilly blackness that surrounded him. "Its so dark!" He cried. "Is anyone there? Someone! Please!"

And then he felt a comforting hand on his arm. The warmness of that hand calmed him, and turned his face in the direction of that hand, his eyes straining to make out at least a figure.

There was nothing but blackness . . . and the hand.

"Who are you?" Ted asked, his voice loud in the stillness that was the darkness around him.

"I'm Sinead. Buddy, I'm here." He had never his sister's voice so sickly sweet. He reached up a trembling hand in the direction of her voice, and touched skin.

It was skin unlike he had ever felt. Sinead jerked her arm away, but not before Ted felt it.

The skin was rough, while Sinead's skin had previously been smooth. It was wrinkled, and slightly sticky.

Ted's knowledge of medical terminology led him to conclude that Sinead was scarred. He pretended he had felt nothing, and held out his hand, trying to find her face.

He found it, and the skin on her face was thankfully still smooth. He ran a hand down her cheek, stopping by her chin.

"Can you see me?" He asked, afraid of the answer.

The answer came, and it stung him. "Yes." Then her voice cracked. "Oh, Ted, your eyes are so still. They're staring at nothing. . . "

Ted nodded. "I know." The blackness in front of his eyes swam. "I'm scared, Sinead. I'm all alone in a black, terrifying world. You don't seem to understand."

Sinead was silent. Ted would have given anything to see what her face looked like. "I don't understand, Ted. I don't. Why did you emerge from the explosion broken, while I emerged perfectly nomal?"

Her voice cracked on the word, "Normal.", and Ted knew it was because of her scars. He kept his mouth shut, and instead said, "All my dreams. All my hopes. They're gone. I'll never be able to do what I've wanted to do. I can't study DNA if I can't see it. I can't feel it with my fingers."

Sinead choked. "I know, Ted, I'm so sorry."

Ted's thoughts wandered away from Sinead to the future. He would have to live alone, with an awful cane. He would have no way of knowing what he looked like, if he had food on his face.

Then his thoughts turned to Ned. Ned! "What happened to Ned?" He asked, panicking.

The darkness in front of his eyes seemed to blacken.

Sinead didn't say anything for a while, and Ted assumed the worst. "Is he . . . . gone?"

"No." Sinead's words were brusque, cool. "He's fine. For now. He gets awful headaches. But he's perfectly normal otherwise."

"When did he wake up?" His eyes started out at nothing, and he ran his hand along a seam in the blanket that was tearing.

"Two weeks ago." Sinead's voice cracked. "Ted, we thought you were going to die."

Ted's fingers ran over the seam again. "I thought I was dead. When I woke up, and opened my eyes, and there was nothing in front of them except darkness. I was so afraid." Watery, blank eyes stared up at Sinead. "And my dreams are broken, gone. I'm nothing but a blind begger."

Sinead sucked in air through her teeth. " . That's not true. You can still do something."

Ted laughed. "Yeah. Scan groceries at Wal-Mart." He laughed a cold, cruel laugh. "That's all I'm good for, is scanning bags of chips and cartons of milk."

Sinead sighed. "Ted. No you aren't. You can go to school, and learn."

"Yeah. And use that knowledge for what?" His words were cold, sarcastic evidences of what his life would be.

He could never do what he wanted to do. He would never be worth anything. His dreams were lost in the blackness that dimmed his vision. They were like dust in a sandstorm, blown away, spread every which direction. It would be impossible to ever achieve them.

Many Months Later

"Don't you see?" The woman behind the counter shrieked.

Ted bit his tongue, but the words came out anyways. "No, no, I actually don't see. I'm blind, remember?"

The woman inhaled sharply. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry."

Ted frowned. "Whatever. Which one do you red or the blue?"

"You say your sister has red hair? Then neither. Do this dark green."

Ted nodded. "Whatever you say, mam." He took the hat the woman held out for him, and then walked away. The store buzzed with activity, but he still heard the woman behind him whisper, "I hope his sister likes red. He deserves it, the idiot, acting all uppity. Handicaps should not come to the store unacommpanied."

Ted seethed with anger. Turning back towards the counter where the woman was selling handmade hats, he stalked towards the approximate occasion where the table was. Hearing the woman's hands nervously drumming on the counter, he approached the table slowly. Sweetly, he said, "Excuse me, but I changed my mind. Do you think I could get the red instead?"

He could almost hear the woman's anxiety as she tried to figure out what to do. He listened as she grabbed first one hat, then another. Finally she settled on the third.

Handing it to him, she took the red hat from his outstretched hands, and placed the unknown color in his. "Thank you kindly." He said, smiling with sightless eyes at the woman's shifty face.

He heard a little girl talking cheerily to her mother, so he approached the sound. Turning his face towards the sound, he wandered through the blackness until he walked right by the girl. Tripping on his own feet, he dropped the hat.

"Oh, no!" He cried out. "Could you find me my hat?"

The mother gasped, "Go get it, sweetie. Sir, are you ok?"

Ted laughed. "Of course. I do that all the time. The disadvantage of being blind, I suppose."

The mother gasped again. "You're blind? Sir, you walk with such confidence!"

Ted smiled. "Thank you. I really try to be normal but I can only do so much."

Laughing the woman responded, "Of course you do, and you do an amazing job."

Ted turned towards where he heard the little girl approaching him. "Thank you, honey." He said, taking the soft hat from the girl's tiny hand.

Standing up, he turned to the mother. "Could you tell me what color this hat is?" He asked. "I don't actually know, and the woman I bought this from already tricked me twice."

Jumping up and down, the child squeaked, "It's green! It's green!"

"Thank you." Ted said, patting the girl's head. Then turning, he walked away.

Walking towards the door, he stepped out with his hat, feeling the soft fibers against his rough hand. But as he walked out, his sharp ears picked up a noise.

Sad, haunting music drifted out of the store, and he turned and walked back towards it. Stopping by the door, he listened as someone pushed the keys of a piano.

He had heard this song before, he was certain. Listening to the music for a long while, he suddenly turned, and walked out the door.

Hailing a taxi, he directed the driver flawlessly to his house. Stepping out, he paid the fee, and then asked, "Sir, could you tell me if there are any cars in the driveway?"

The driver gasped, as if suddenly realizing the young man before him was blind. "No, no there aren't any." He said, taking in Ted's sightless eyes for the first time.

Smiling, Ted thanked the driver and walked towards the direction he knew the house was. But before he went inside, he heard the driver mumble, "He's blind? By God, I never would have known!"

As soon as he had shut the door, Ted dropped the hat and ran towards the living room. It was a large open room, with couches arrayed neatly on the wall, so Ted wouldn't trip on them.

The first months had consisted of adjustments for everyone, including the couches, who had been moved from their spot in the middle of the room, to around the walls.

The only thing that had stayed in the same spot had been the grand piano that Ted and his siblings had taken a few lessons on.

With a small knowledge of musical notes, Ted sat down on the bench, and tried to find middle C. It was much more difficult then he had expected, and he ended up playing a scale, and guessing on which note was C.

He remembered the song he had been working on when more interesting things had caught his eye. It was a beautiful, rippling sad song, that grew in power with each note he played and he wondered if he could remember it.

Placing his hands on what he thought was the approximate place, he began to play Moonlight Sonata.

The bass chords, combined with the slow triplet runs in the treble, was haunting. As he listened to the music, Ted felt a shudder run down his spine. He pressed his fingers down harder on the ivory keys, and strength poured out of the music. His fingers flew as he played and he wondered why he had quit piano.

The strength, the harmony, the beauty, the power you could get from placing your hands on the keys was amazing. He felt strength fill him and the notes seemed to come alive.

All of a sudden Ted stopped. Placing his hands farther down, he found what he thought was the G below middle C.

Reaching up an octave, he played a few notes, and then paused. Adjusting the value of each note, he created a medley that stirred memories of his first weeks of being blind.

He awoke, panting, and he could see. The sunlight streamed through the window, a bright red cardinal flashed by. Smiling, he stepped out of bed . . . . Hitting the cold floor, he realized with disappointment that it had just been a dream, and that even worse, he had fallen out of bed.

He was tripping every time he walked anywhere. Even a small box on the floor disturbed his halting walk. His fingers spread in front of him, his arms outstretched, he walked blindly towards an unknown destination.

There was no purpose in his life. Why should he try to learn to navigate if his dreams were dead and buried?

And then he had discovered the children. All of his life he had walked past them. All of his life he had been scorned, mocked, hated, because he was smarter than they, and now, they fascinated him.

He could listen to their cries, and hear their pain in the words meant to disguise the hurt.

Ted Starling began studying to be a social worker. Because of his blindness, he could reach certain people that others could not.

Ted jumped, hearing someone walk in the door. His hands had been playing a medley of notes, haunting and sad, yet strangely happy at the same time.

He heard someone rummaging in the kitchen, opening cupboards. It was Ned, searching for a pain pill to headaches that trumped all else.

Ted smiled. His brother was a fool. He couldn't find his nose, even attached to his face. "Ned?" He called, "They're in the cupboard above the sink. Third shelf from the bottom."

"Thanks." Ned called back, his words twisted with pain. "Will you keep playing that song? What's it called anyway?"

Ted smiled. His brother had said nothing like, "How in the world are you playing the piano? You're blind!"

Ned understood him, and he didn't talk about Ted's disability, unless it was, "Yo, Ted, there's a glop of food on your right cheek, you might want to get it off."

Ted shut his sightless eyes, and answered Ned's question. "Dreams. It's called Dreams."

There would be a later time for fulfilling of dreams, but right now, all Ted had was enough.

Thanks for reading guys, and please tell me what you think in a review. (its awful, I know . . .)