It was like a static hum, crisp air snapping beside the spots where he knew his ears were. He couldn't describe it--it was so new, intangible--a feeling. The four senses, he could understand, but this one--this was a door that was kicked down, a shuttered window broken open until the blinding rays of sound shot in.
He couldn't tell if it was nice sounding or not--it just was. Was it music? The words he had read in the books? The little dots, dashes, and lines in the hymnals?
In front of him, the doctor smiled at the boy's golf-ball eyes and slack mouth as a photographer snapped a picture. "Can you hear me, Harold?" the doctor half-shouted. The words were foreign vibrations to Harold, abrading his eardrum and scattering his brain like ripples in a pond. The doctor seemed to remember that speaking would be useless for the time being, so he went back to sign language. Can you hear? Can you hear sounds?
Harold nodded and grunted, then nearly fell on the floor, shocked by the sound of his own voice.
"My God," said the doctor, taking off his glasses and scrubbing the tears away. "You're a miracle, Harold Whittles."
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Commentary: I needed something to write about (as usual) and found this picture of a boy's face when he heard for the first time. I tried to describe hearing in a different way, as it is a totally new sense to this boy.
He couldn't tell if it was nice sounding or not--it just was. Was it music? The words he had read in the books? The little dots, dashes, and lines in the hymnals?
In front of him, the doctor smiled at the boy's golf-ball eyes and slack mouth as a photographer snapped a picture. "Can you hear me, Harold?" the doctor half-shouted. The words were foreign vibrations to Harold, abrading his eardrum and scattering his brain like ripples in a pond. The doctor seemed to remember that speaking would be useless for the time being, so he went back to sign language. Can you hear? Can you hear sounds?
Harold nodded and grunted, then nearly fell on the floor, shocked by the sound of his own voice.
"My God," said the doctor, taking off his glasses and scrubbing the tears away. "You're a miracle, Harold Whittles."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Commentary: I needed something to write about (as usual) and found this picture of a boy's face when he heard for the first time. I tried to describe hearing in a different way, as it is a totally new sense to this boy.
3 comments:
Haha! I think you've captured his amazement! Great point about the brain not being able to make out the new sounds, too. That's an awesome picture as well!
I echo Elsha, every letter of it.
Man, reading this made me remember how much I miss your writing style: the concise wording, the dryly amused and curious tone, the steady pacing, that way you make the uncanny plausable, or the familiar mysterious.
g2, that may be one of the nicest comments I've ever gotten. I mean, I have a distinguishable style?
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