Novel & Cerita I Was Quiet But I Was Not Blind

Didn’t he think I was fighting with him even though I was chopped up by the falling of various weapon blades as I went on? Which of those says I’m blind to the fact I’m not accepted? That nothing stays in my life? Is it because my reasons are left unanswered? Visionless vociferate for a prodigious expedient quantum of luminescence. Am I one of those sightless? Am I one of those that couldn't fly for they cut their wings in exchange for temporary happiness? After all, I alone can rule the wind, the sky, and space without actually being there, and I could've just pondered deep within the dark I embraced and seek for the illumination of my obscured heart.

She asked. I gave a small smile, though my eyes, blind as ever, saw only the thick curtain of darkness. “A little. But it’s not far now.” My voice was steadier than I felt. The quiet stretched between us, filled only by the whisper of night creatures and the dripping of water from the leaves overhead. My world had been reshaped by silence since blindness claimed my eyes. But in that silence, I had learned to listen differently; to the weight of footsteps, the subtle shift in the air, the steady hum of my own breathing.

I pushed him away from his shoulder and he took some steps away. I didn't care. I stepped out to walk away and he said "You're right. I'm blind after all..." he said with an emotional chuckle. His voice wasn't as clear and clean as before, and he seemed to have catarrh. But it was as a result of crying, one could tell. "I'm really blind. I should have seen that you are no different from other girls, selfish and immature… but was it my fault? Love is really blind, and I'm just a young foolish man that let it's blindness blind me, I thought I was in love, I thought we—"

I tried to call out but the words would not come out. I saw nothing nor felt something again. My eyes just went blank!

She says quietly and eats the fruit slowly. After that she keeps on eating the fruits silently. Jung-Ho watches her silently before asking. "How do you feel?" He asks. She glances up and notices his worried look. "Better than before." She answers softly and gives him a weak smile. "Did you sleep well?" He asks carefully. "Yes, thank you." She answers, finishing off her bowl. ~

“Because I don’t have a tape recorder. And… because it doesn’t seem right, somehow. This is a miracle. You don’t poke a stick into a miracle to see what it’s made of.” “But you’ve just told me that’s what I should do.” “I was speaking metaphorically. Making a point. I didn’t mean you should actually do it.” His reflection paused. “But you know that what I’m saying is correct. You’ve had people in your flat before. Your mother, your landlady, your school friend, the man who put in the phone socket. They didn’t hear me or see me, did they?” “They were ordinary visitors. A girl would be… different.”

«I know you know what I know, but not what I can tell... because you didn't see what I saw, you didn't hear what I heard. What you know is nothing. What you know is dead... If you want to see me, close your eyes, don't be afraid, maybe the darkness can show you a little of who I am and the silence can tell you about me. Don't be afraid, come on; lower your eyelids, but; I warn you; later you will have a phobia of opening them.

I knew that my happiness lay with this man. At least a good part of it. I tried to convey my feelings through my eyes, telling him how sorry I was and that he shouldn’t do anything rash. And I thought it had worked because something had passed in his face, but I should have known he was just blinking at the sand that had fallen in his eyes. “No. I don’t know her.” Quiet. Everywhere was quiet—too quiet, like the world where a bomb was lying in the wake and only needed a little push to activate it.

RAVEN It was strange, really strange, how quiet everything felt. The air itself carried a kind of stillness that made me feel like even my own breathing was too loud. I stood there for a long while, listening, straining my ears for the slightest sign of movement, and finally I whispered to myself, “Why is it this quiet? It shouldn’t be this quiet.”

His silence was heavy, pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake off. I wanted to ask what was wrong. I wanted to beg him to let me in on what he was thinking. But the blandness of his expression—pale, lifeless, haunted—kept me quiet. It was like something was devouring him from within, gnawing at his soul, and he just couldn’t find a way to voice it. As much as I knew him realizing he was blind after he wakes up would be a huge blow to him, I still felt like there was something more to his silence. Like this was beyond his sight.