Title: Through Eyes Unclouded
Description: A trip to the park can make a certain Animorph realize something she never thought about before...any more and I'll give it away...read and review please!
Disclaimer: I don't own it. None of it. Shame.
Note: a nice short little story I made up late at night/early in the morning, about a subject that never really was brought up in the series. Happy reading!
***
A lot of people have misconceptions about the city; especially the Andalites. They think we look like the postcards, a perfect blend of tranquility and culture. Most tourists come here in the summer, which they think is the perfect time of year because they actually believe what they read in the travel brochures. The emergency room always seems to have its hands full during these months, I hear, what with all the heat stroke, muggings, and nervous breakdowns as a result of acute claustrophobia.
The truth is, in summer the city turns into a giant fermentation vat, and all the garbage men go on holiday, so that the streets are filled with a slightly sour odor that becomes aggravated by the humidity.
I could smell it today as I walked down the street, each store with their own particular perfume. Offices were mainly coffee grounds; the doughnut shop had a sickly sweet smell that you could almost taste, and the Chinese takeout must have just cleaned their refrigerators, because nothing on their menu smelled quite like that. The corner market, owned by a man with the voice of the Godfather, was nearly unbearable, and I held my breath as I passed, hoping the breeze was blowing the opposite direction.
"What is that you are doing? Oo-ing?" came a voice from my left. Renthali- Inveress-Soboran, an Andalite tourist masquerading as a human, in an effort to master his claustrophobia. Judging by the iron grip he had on my arm, he was not having much success. He was the son of a friend of the family, and since my mother opposes me wandering the city by myself, she shackled him to me.
"Can't you smell that?" I asked him, trying to pose the question without breathing inward, and failing.
"Why, yes. I believe it is what you call..." he searched for the word. "...fruit?"
"Well, I suppose it was fruit at one time." We lapsed into silence as the crowd became thicker around us, bringing with it the none-too-pleasant aroma of human sweat. We were in front of the coffee shop during the noontime rush. Renthali was cutting off the circulation in my arm, and I shifted a bit so he would loosen his grasp.
"I am sorry. Sor-ree."
"It's okay. I take it they don't have many crowds where you're from."
"Oh, no! We are never this close to one another. We Andalites value our personal space. Spay-suh." I liked the sound of his voice, even though I knew it was a mask. It reminded me of someone else, from long ago...someone who spoke to me in a hushed whisper with the same soothing tone.
"So do humans, but there's not much of that here."
"So why live here, if it is unpleasant?"
"Because it could be a lot worse..." There could be no privacy; beds all in one room so could hear everyone sleep, a communal bathroom that went weeks without cleaning...why was I even thinking about this? Andalites and their dumb questions.
"Where are we going?" Renthali asked, abruptly changing the subject. I slowed for a minute and tried to orient myself.
"The memorial." I said finally, regaining my bearings and steering my charge around a corner.
"Ah, yes. Yes-suh. I went there on a tour bus a week ago. It was very moving."
"That's good."
"Why are you going to see it?"
"I have some personal reasons."
"Did you know them?"
"Not exactly." I was only confusing the poor boy, but I really was not in the mood to dredge up the past, especially when it was not even that clear to myself. Evidently, Renthali was in the mood to discuss it, because after another brief moment of silence, he was questioning me again.
"It has been almost an Earth year, am I correct? Since it happened? Hap-en- duh."
"I guess." Actually, it had been eleven months and twenty days, but who's counting? The air was becoming lighter, fresher, and more breathable. We were close. The birds all nested around here, and I could hear their varied, off-key songs that still somehow qualified as music to my ears.
"This is the park!" Renthali exclaimed excitedly, proud to be able to recognize where he was.
"Yes." I murmured, feeling as though there was a special need for reverence here. This park had been commissioned specifically for the memorial, and a path led up to it that we now took.
There seemed to be an energy surrounding the monument, physically nothing more than a large, rectangular block, so I always knew when I came to it. There were benches too, for the weary, but I was never tired here. Even Renthali was respectfully silent, for once. If there's one thing that can be said for Andalites, it is that they know when to be serious.
"Read it to me," I whispered. No matter how many times I ran my hands over the cold, smooth stone, or traced each carved letter, I would never be able to see it, never be able to read it for myself. I felt the Andalite take in a breath to speak, but instead a female voice came from nowhere, and the words she spoke were filled with a life and vitality they had never had when others read it for me.
"To those who have given their lives for freedom, may we remember them as the heroes they truly are." The city had wanted a longer inscription that would have detailed their accomplishments, but found they would have needed a much bigger rock, so they narrowed it down to two lines, and---
"The names." She read them, and I stopped her after the first six. Five were human, all without last names. They would never need last names.
"To think they all just disappeared from sight," Renthali mused in wonder.
"Not all," I turned my head in the general direction of the strange voice and smiled. "Come on Ren, it's time to go." We started back down the path we had come. For the blind, a person's voice is like their face, and I never forget a face.
"Excuse me, miss, don't I know you from somewhere?" the voice was fading as we moved away. "Hey, wait!" Did she remember, as I did, the dark dormitory, a soothing voice, and a smooth surface that buzzed under my fingertips when I touched it? I could have been a hero that night, just like the others whose names covered the stone, but I wasn't. Some of us just aren't meant to be.
I nudged Renthali's arm so he would move faster. Soon we would be lost in the coffee shop crowd, and Cassie would wonder if I was only a figment of her imagination, a remembrance of times past, and a mystery left unsolved.
"Ren, you like Chinese food, right?"
*A/N*: so how many of you are racing to Animorphs #47 and looking up the blind girl that was given the morphing powers and then disappeared from the series? I know I was very confuzzled, and knew she must have a story of some kind. So here it is. Was it too obvious? Too weird? Too...anything?
Description: A trip to the park can make a certain Animorph realize something she never thought about before...any more and I'll give it away...read and review please!
Disclaimer: I don't own it. None of it. Shame.
Note: a nice short little story I made up late at night/early in the morning, about a subject that never really was brought up in the series. Happy reading!
***
A lot of people have misconceptions about the city; especially the Andalites. They think we look like the postcards, a perfect blend of tranquility and culture. Most tourists come here in the summer, which they think is the perfect time of year because they actually believe what they read in the travel brochures. The emergency room always seems to have its hands full during these months, I hear, what with all the heat stroke, muggings, and nervous breakdowns as a result of acute claustrophobia.
The truth is, in summer the city turns into a giant fermentation vat, and all the garbage men go on holiday, so that the streets are filled with a slightly sour odor that becomes aggravated by the humidity.
I could smell it today as I walked down the street, each store with their own particular perfume. Offices were mainly coffee grounds; the doughnut shop had a sickly sweet smell that you could almost taste, and the Chinese takeout must have just cleaned their refrigerators, because nothing on their menu smelled quite like that. The corner market, owned by a man with the voice of the Godfather, was nearly unbearable, and I held my breath as I passed, hoping the breeze was blowing the opposite direction.
"What is that you are doing? Oo-ing?" came a voice from my left. Renthali- Inveress-Soboran, an Andalite tourist masquerading as a human, in an effort to master his claustrophobia. Judging by the iron grip he had on my arm, he was not having much success. He was the son of a friend of the family, and since my mother opposes me wandering the city by myself, she shackled him to me.
"Can't you smell that?" I asked him, trying to pose the question without breathing inward, and failing.
"Why, yes. I believe it is what you call..." he searched for the word. "...fruit?"
"Well, I suppose it was fruit at one time." We lapsed into silence as the crowd became thicker around us, bringing with it the none-too-pleasant aroma of human sweat. We were in front of the coffee shop during the noontime rush. Renthali was cutting off the circulation in my arm, and I shifted a bit so he would loosen his grasp.
"I am sorry. Sor-ree."
"It's okay. I take it they don't have many crowds where you're from."
"Oh, no! We are never this close to one another. We Andalites value our personal space. Spay-suh." I liked the sound of his voice, even though I knew it was a mask. It reminded me of someone else, from long ago...someone who spoke to me in a hushed whisper with the same soothing tone.
"So do humans, but there's not much of that here."
"So why live here, if it is unpleasant?"
"Because it could be a lot worse..." There could be no privacy; beds all in one room so could hear everyone sleep, a communal bathroom that went weeks without cleaning...why was I even thinking about this? Andalites and their dumb questions.
"Where are we going?" Renthali asked, abruptly changing the subject. I slowed for a minute and tried to orient myself.
"The memorial." I said finally, regaining my bearings and steering my charge around a corner.
"Ah, yes. Yes-suh. I went there on a tour bus a week ago. It was very moving."
"That's good."
"Why are you going to see it?"
"I have some personal reasons."
"Did you know them?"
"Not exactly." I was only confusing the poor boy, but I really was not in the mood to dredge up the past, especially when it was not even that clear to myself. Evidently, Renthali was in the mood to discuss it, because after another brief moment of silence, he was questioning me again.
"It has been almost an Earth year, am I correct? Since it happened? Hap-en- duh."
"I guess." Actually, it had been eleven months and twenty days, but who's counting? The air was becoming lighter, fresher, and more breathable. We were close. The birds all nested around here, and I could hear their varied, off-key songs that still somehow qualified as music to my ears.
"This is the park!" Renthali exclaimed excitedly, proud to be able to recognize where he was.
"Yes." I murmured, feeling as though there was a special need for reverence here. This park had been commissioned specifically for the memorial, and a path led up to it that we now took.
There seemed to be an energy surrounding the monument, physically nothing more than a large, rectangular block, so I always knew when I came to it. There were benches too, for the weary, but I was never tired here. Even Renthali was respectfully silent, for once. If there's one thing that can be said for Andalites, it is that they know when to be serious.
"Read it to me," I whispered. No matter how many times I ran my hands over the cold, smooth stone, or traced each carved letter, I would never be able to see it, never be able to read it for myself. I felt the Andalite take in a breath to speak, but instead a female voice came from nowhere, and the words she spoke were filled with a life and vitality they had never had when others read it for me.
"To those who have given their lives for freedom, may we remember them as the heroes they truly are." The city had wanted a longer inscription that would have detailed their accomplishments, but found they would have needed a much bigger rock, so they narrowed it down to two lines, and---
"The names." She read them, and I stopped her after the first six. Five were human, all without last names. They would never need last names.
"To think they all just disappeared from sight," Renthali mused in wonder.
"Not all," I turned my head in the general direction of the strange voice and smiled. "Come on Ren, it's time to go." We started back down the path we had come. For the blind, a person's voice is like their face, and I never forget a face.
"Excuse me, miss, don't I know you from somewhere?" the voice was fading as we moved away. "Hey, wait!" Did she remember, as I did, the dark dormitory, a soothing voice, and a smooth surface that buzzed under my fingertips when I touched it? I could have been a hero that night, just like the others whose names covered the stone, but I wasn't. Some of us just aren't meant to be.
I nudged Renthali's arm so he would move faster. Soon we would be lost in the coffee shop crowd, and Cassie would wonder if I was only a figment of her imagination, a remembrance of times past, and a mystery left unsolved.
"Ren, you like Chinese food, right?"
*A/N*: so how many of you are racing to Animorphs #47 and looking up the blind girl that was given the morphing powers and then disappeared from the series? I know I was very confuzzled, and knew she must have a story of some kind. So here it is. Was it too obvious? Too weird? Too...anything?