AN UNWANTED GIFT

I wasn’t always blind or homeless but my destiny led me to where I am and I guess I can’t complain. I was a valued house boy of a rich merchant, running errands for him here and there about the city for many years. But my luck changed with his – as is the fate of a slave.

So when my master lost his riches I lost my home along with them. I was sold onto another who beat me in his drunken fits for many years. On the last occasion I was beaten so badly about the head that I lost my sight. A sightless slave is of little use to his master and so I was thrown out onto these dusty streets.

So I was stripped of my first home, thrown from my second a blind and bleeding mess and I ended up here. In a manner I am lucky to be blind as an able bodied person would not fare well from begging, as it is I manage to eek out enough to live by from this and the kindness of a few who take pity on me by giving me their scraps and a few sheckles occasionally. I am now an old and infirm man and my only hope of freedom from my fate lies in death which surely is not too far around the corner.

Still I consider myself lucky to have lived so long and to have stumbled upon the kindness of a few in these poor back streets of this dusty town. Although I am blind I still know of many things going on in this neighbourhood. With the loss of my eyes came the sharpness of my ears, touch and smell. It’s amazing how much can be gleaned from the conversation around me, the ambient noises and smells in the streets tell there own tales and one of my occasional benefactors keeps me up to date with other news and gossip from further about the town as well as the few scraps she can spare. For example a great profit who has gained much notoriety in his time is visiting our town today to talk to any who will listen of his theories and the new god he follows. She has promised to come by if she is able and take me to him as I have an interest in philosophy and talk of the gods although they seem to have forsaken me.

I can hear her quick footsteps now, hurrying towards me. I rise slowly as my bones aren’t nearly as strong or dependable as they once were when I was serving and being cared for by my first master. I pat myself down, trying to bring some order to my dishevelled appearance. I can feel the dirt caked on the soles of my feet and the clouds of dust emanating from my rags as I pat them down in a futile attempt at tidying myself up. I must be a sight and I smile to my self – appreciative that I cannot see.

She reaches me and gently takes my hand. I can feel her excitement as she tells me of the crowds that have come to see him and the wise men who follow him. He is said to have caused much discussion and talk wherever he has gone and a rumour of miracles follows him also. I laugh, asking her what he will do for us poor slaves and beggars. She doesn’t answer and simply leads me on faster. I can hear a crowd ahead and then we are pushing through masses of people toward a loud and sonorous voice. A cool hand is placed over my face, a prayer said and as the hand is moved away my eyes smart from the bright sunlight that I have only felt for many a year.