I've never written anything like this before to bear with me. It's not a fandom or anything of the sort. So I apologise if you are disappointed. This piece of writing came to light whilst I was watching a documentary 'Meet the Elephant Man'. This documentary inspired this piece of writing and even though it may not be everyone's cup-of-tea, I'd appreciate some reviews. I'm hoping most of you know the story of the Elephant man. If not, google. Some may not be historically accurate, or forgive me.
This is the moment a girl from the 21st centaury meets a man from the 17th, known as 'The Elephant Man'.
I was in shock; I'm not going to lie. He was sat before me, in a pin-striped brown suit, as though he would be attending an interview. I'd never seen anything like him before in my 19 years of life. But then again, 19 years is hardly anything. There was no expression on his face; he just continued to look at me blankly. I tilted my head slightly in thought. My initial feeling of fear was melting away, and I was instantly curious. His face was covered in lumps and bumps, tumor like growths. His eyes were small and hardly visible, as was his mouth. I took a slow, steady step away from the door and pulled my coat tighter around myself. I half expected him to ask why I was here, or ask me to leave. But he said nothing. He just gazed at me, as if he was as curious about me as I was about him. I took a small step forward and I saw him wince slightly, as though my sudden movement worried him.
'It's ok'
I whispered. I wasn't sure if he had heard me, but this was for my own reassurance as well as his. He may look different, I told myself, but he was a man, a man only a few years older than myself. This, I think, shocked me more than his disfigurement. He was only a few years older than I at this point, and yet the differences in our lives by this point were unbelievable. I still couldn't understand how he sat before me. Joseph had died in 1890, yet I was sure by my surroundings that I was still in 2011. Joseph seemed unfazed by his surroundings, but of course I couldn't be certain of this. All I was sure of was that since I ran in to the room and slammed the door shut to find him sat there, he hadn't taken his eyes off me. Taking another steadying breathe, stepped for slightly, slower this time, so as not to startle him. The closer I came, the more I noticed about him. Although the disfigurement to his face was obvious, I hadn't noticed his body until then. He was sat with a slight hunch, bent over to the right side. One leg was obviously bigger than the other, and he appeared to have other tumor like bumps covering his torso, some were so large that they strained against the suit he was wearing. When I finally crossed the room and stood over him, Joseph had not moved an inch, though his eyes strained upwards to connect with me. Feeling rude, I knelt down in front of him so that we level. When I first spotted him sat here, I had never thought for a moment I'd dare to get this close. And yet here I was, knelt in front of him. I could see his hands resting on his lap, one significantly larger than the other. My eyes travelled over him once more, until I realized that I was probably making him uncomfortable. For the first time since I entered the room, I looked directly into his eyes. It was at that point that I realized how I'd been avoiding eye contact with him. Looking into his eyes, what I found hidden behind them knocked the breath straight out of me.
Looking into those blue eyes, I saw everything. On the surface I saw the pain, and the loneliness. Of being the one to stand out for the wrong reasons. The pain of being used as a showcase, an object for people to laugh and study but having no choice as he needed the money. The solitude of being in a room full of people staring at you, but never actually seeing you. Of having all these thoughts and expressions, but never being able to voice them or show them. I plucked up all my courage and looked deeper. Never being treated as an equal or as a human being, but a spectacle, something people either fear or found amusement in. People saw the monster, instead of the man. They judged him by his looks. And behind those blue eyes, I saw how much this hurt him. He was an intelligent man, yet no one could see it. They only saw his lumps and bumps, his deformities. And now, looking into his eyes, I was no longer afraid. He had chosen to exhibit himself purely for the need to earn a living, as this was the only way he could. He didn't really have a choice, he needed the money to keep living. But just because he was different, didn't mean he wasn't beautiful. I could feel the tears fighting their way to the surface as I continued to gaze at him, when I did something that surprised me. I reached my hand up slowly towards Josephs face. This was the first time he'd broken eye contact with me, to stare at my hand, curious and a little nervous.
'May I?'
I asked gently. I thought it best to ask permission, as I wasn't sure how he'd been treated in the past, if people had asked to touch him or not, or if people had touched him without wanting anything more than to examine him. I heard him quietly mumble a yes. It must have been difficult for him to talk, so I appreciated him granting me permission. Taking yet another deep breath I smiled at him slightly before placing my hand on the left side of his face, as he continued to watch my hand. His skin felt hard and rough, like a blacksmiths hands. Slowly, I moved my hand down the side of his face, from his temple to his cheek bone. He looked away from my hand and back to me, and I was surprised to see a tear roll down his face, and at the same time I felt my own tear trickle down my cheek. I felt the tear leave my face as fell from my cheek and landed on the back of Josephs deformed right hand. I looked back up toward Joseph and was shocked by what I saw. Slowly but surely, he was starting to change. The lumps on his face seemed to be disappearing, as if turning into mist and evaporating. The same process started happening to the rest of his body, as his disfigurements turned to mist and simply disappeared. In next to no time at all, I was no longer knelt in front of Joseph Merrick; The Elephant Man, but Joseph Merrick; The Man. The dark hair that had covered only a portion of his head now curled at the ends slightly, sitting just above his ears and out of his eyes. His small blue eyes were now entirely visible and were an almond shape, whereas his lips were now perfectly proportioned and his teeth straight. His skin looked smooth and he looked like any other man. His torso was bump free, as were his hands and legs. Shock didn't even begin to cover it. Joseph reached up his hand to wipe away the tears that continued to flow from my eyes. 'Thank you'
He whispered. The coarse mumble that had given me permission to touch him was gone, replaced by a smooth, well articulated voice. All I could do was nod and smile as I watched Joseph Merrick fade away into mist, just has his disfigurements had. Within seconds I was knelt alone in an empty room, an empty chair in front of me with my hand raised toward the thin air. I looked around me quickly and got my bearing before looking back to the chair. It was if he'd never been there. He had been there, hadn't he? I couldn't have just imagined it. Had he really been there? If he had, his disfigurements couldn't have just disappeared, could they? Or maybe they hadn't disappeared, I just couldn't see them anymore because I chose to look past his lumps and bumps and see the man within. I stood up suddenly and wiped my tears away. I covered the ground between the chair and the door in a hurry and swung it open. I took one last glance back at that chair in the middle of the room before turning and shutting the door behind me. Walking down the cold streets, ignoring the usual hustle and bustle of London 2011, Joseph Merricks voice echoed in my head.
'Tis true my form is something odd,
But blaming me is blaming God;
Could I create myself anew
I would not fail in pleasing you.
If I could reach from pole to pole
Or grasp the ocean with a span,
I would be measured by the soul;
The mind's the standard of the man.