look there- a ghost- but no- a ghost can still see and hear, while she lacks two of the five senses, as she gradually loses all of them
I come, slowly, cautiously, waiting for something to send that ripple through my gut, the tearing sensation of another presence, of my finely-toned intuition that has been poured into me over years and years. Every time I die, every time I come back, I lose a sense within every year. It varies, of course, and so you must see I was completely shocked when overnight my hearing disappeared. I had just lost my sight- why was I deaf? It went out of my gods' nature! Andromeda, Barzuna, Calysipa, Diomedra, Ezelfina- I could go on and on through all the gods whose names ended in 'a', and then continue on into the 'b's and 'c's and 'd's. There are thousands that watch my slow, agonizing process. What kind of joke is this? They send me, I am their little messenger, their little puppet- and now I cannot feel them.
I can't decide if I'm furious they have abandoned me, or if I'm pleased, at ease to hear so. Now they cannot, at least, attack me and seize hold of me- but neither can they ease my weary path. I know I'm in the woods now- perhaps it has something to do with my extraordinarily sensitive skin, that takes quick note of the sudden, swirling shifts of light and shadow. Yes, I decide, it's warm here, at least, the light sweet and gentle, kissing my ears and muzzle, exhaling on me.
On I wander, sometimes stopping erratically to try and find hold of my lost senses. Once or twice I nearly hit a cumbersome tree, before my long whiskers touch the rough bark, and my tiny form recoils from the contact. If someone is watching me, I do not know. I will only know should they touch me, extend a wing or nuzzle me with a nose. Creepy things they often are, horses. Maybe finally one of them might be smart enough to figure out I'm blind and deaf to this world. Not to the shadow world, of course- but this world, yes.
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