The Cave

The forms on the wall performed their march as they always do. The same left to right motion they seemed to adore so much. I didn’t know what they were, but I could only assume I was one of them.

They never bothered to acknowledge me, meaning either that they couldn’t see me through the darkness or that they just didn’t care. Often I would move my face in different ways, that I thought they might take offense to, but still they would march. I made noise, loud and quiet, I certainly didn’t like it, but they paid no heed.

For a while I pitied them; I felt bad for all they did was march the same motions over and over, but who was I to criticize when all I did was watch. For all I knew, they had just as little choice as me. But, the performance wasn’t always exactly the same. Occasionally, I might see one of them rise slightly before falling again, but never leaving the ground. Once, one of them moved forward far quicker than usual and almost touched its latter, but just as quickly rediscovered its place.

Those being the most impressive anomalies, I found myself quickly bored of them and exhausted of ways to tempt their attention. I felt at the edges of myself. I could move ever so slightly the brinks of what I assumed was my body, but I could never hope to achieve what they had. The world as I knew it was small, and I couldn’t help but wonder why I was cursed to these confines when my equals just above are at least permitted to march. Did those who decided I must live like this rule their lives as well? Why was I allowed the ability to have these thoughts, but not the ability to share them?

I knew I wasn’t alone in the dark; I’d heard others to my side make the same unpleasant racket as I. And most infrequently, I’d heard loud, sharp noises followed by the sounds I’d heard the figures make when they march. These occasions were always followed by an inverse of the same noises, followed by the same unpleasant tones I and the others had made. I could tell, through incredible effort, about how far to my left or right each being was from me. And I could tell that, for whatever reason, each and every one of them had experienced the noises a number of times, whereas I still could not imagine what they were.

Eventually, with my pool of knowledge being only what I could see and hear, I ran out of things to ponder and even began to despair. I was beginning to believe that I was simply doomed to an existence of uncertainty, the length of which I could not know, when finally I heard the pattering come my way. I saw my vision of the beings obscured and a new warmth near my person. I sensed the sharp noises followed by a sudden weight as I felt myself slam into the ground. It was rough, it was new. Again a new sensation against my body as I was raised and I could feel myself being dragged across the new rough. We turned and I felt a sharp pain as my head was yanked upward from behind and for the first, wonderful time, my eyes burned.

For a long time I could see nothing, but I could feel a great warmth grow stronger and stronger until it encased me, and I was released onto a damp, soft surface. I’d never had a better sleep before and I’ve not had one since. When I awoke, I found I couldn’t open my eyes without feeling a pain so intense it was like I’d never felt anything before. But being as curious as I was, over the course of hours, I forced my eyes open. And when I did I found myself overwhelmed, not by pain, but by beauty. Things I simply could not believe, colors I could not have imagined. I spent hours longer simply staring at what I almost convinced myself could not be real. And if not for those shortcomings that befall all natural beings, I surely would have roamed in wonder for all of eternity. I walked until, against much protest from myself, I fainted of weariness, hunger, dehydration, and the lot. I awoke in the home of a kind man who I remember having gawked wordless at for about an hour, not that I could have spoken if I wanted to. I won’t go into detail about what followed because it’s entirely the process of learning that all ordinary people are allowed to experience, with exception being that most of my age at the time didn’t need to trim a head of hair that fell to their toes.

As I grew accustomed to this new “society” and it to me, I found myself called many things, a swift learner, a romantic, and a bit shaggy. I did all I could to observe the wonders of my new environment, but above all, what I loved the most is that I could. That I was allowed, at will, to travel, read, or generally do whatever I wanted was and still is the most wonderful thing of all. I was often questioned of my origins but, despite my well established curiosity, I’ve never cared to look for an answer. I do not know where I lived for those many years, or who it was finally released me into this land of wonder, but I am eternally grateful to them. It’s very well likely that their intentions were full of naught but malice, and yet I have no one to thank but them for the pleasure I find in life. And in thanks I feel I must somehow pay tribute to my former hosts. So be it that I travel as I can and make my business entertaining the people I meet with a slightly modified version of that which formerly tormented my psyche. I bring with me a fantastic march of dancers and musicians, jugglers and archers, trades people and whoever else is so inclined to join me. Occasionally someone watching will promulgate a shout, jeer, or some other loud noise which, of course, I welcome. They only want to see what kind of reaction they can get, and what sort of a person would I be to decline them of their curiosity.