Written for the Chiaroscuro Writing Extravaganza (Again) event - please read the first part of Blindness by Overlord_Aqua_2 first!

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Calm. Calm! Calm. Stupid yoga instructors and their stupid meditation techniques. At least my memory of that wasted afternoon in a studio too cold and covered in mirrors is still there, still in my mind’s eye. I open my eyes again. Still nothing. A yoga instructor is not great company, but it’ll do.

I close my eyes instinctively, as if it’ll calm my brain down. Sure, I’m not supposed to be able to see anything. This is totally normal and not panic-worthy at all. Just don’t open them. Don’t let the darkness shatter the illusion.

Okay, Jason. I’m sure I dropped the phone somewhere inside. It’s fine! It’s fine. I’ll find it.

I fall back to my knees and crawl forward through the dry grass I really ought to get to strimming. Oh yeah, that’s definitely your biggest concern right now. Well, it gets longer closer to the house, right? So that must be- yep, that’s the wall. Okay. I can do this. Bit further to the left and- the open door I must have stumbled through.

I haul myself up the step and onto the tiled floor of the kitchen inside, sweeping my arms for the phone. Probably cracked. I’m going to have to get that repaired. Damn, it’s not here. I stumble upright.

And then I’m stumbling on a different floor - sight! Holy sight! A hundred times clearer than my mind’s eye, although surely it must be my imagination, because I’m at school, eight years old, stumbling to the front of the class to do my show and tell, and god if I haven’t seen half of these kids in a decade, is that really what they used to look like? And the smell, somehow the smell too, the whiteboard cleaner and damp-coat musk and old wood smells of that classroom now apparently haunted with immortal eight year-olds.

Barely a second, though, of those ruddy faces and bright eyes and bitten jumper cuffs, before - a voice? Not the same one as before, which I realise now could very well have been my own. This one is nasal and- everywhere. It clears its throat.

“Emotion suppression protocol complete. Ready.”

Well. This can’t go poorly at all.

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Hope you all enjoyed! Wow it was hard to write that without resorting to curse words at all. Well, there you go, maybe the protagonist is a children's entertainer so he's trained himself not to swear. Hm, maybe not. Hey, it's not up to me to decide! *bows and ducks away to allow the other writers to pick up the mantle of the story*

(oh and also yoga and meditation are super cool cultural/spiritual practices, the protagonist has just had a negative experience)
(okay that's it I promise I'm leaving now)

Have a good day and remember no feeling is final,
~ lyliaa :)