Arthur's Eyes

Arthur, who was ten years old, could not remember the morning it first happened but now he knew it would be the same every morning he woke up.

When Arthur opened his eyes first thing in a morning he did not see his bedroom. He did not see his curtains, he did not see his poster, he did not even see his dressing gown on the back of his bedroom door. No, Arthur could see a village.

It was the same village very day although never exactly the same view. Sometimes he felt like he was walking through the village, sometimes he was inside of one of the huts. He knew he was moving around the village even though he was lying perfectly still in his bed.

He had to lie perfectly still because the very second he moved in his head the village would disappear and he was back in his bedroom looking at his dressing gown on the back of his bedroom door.

As the days went by Arthur would try to lie as still as he could. In this way he could keep the dream going for as long as possible. His mother was beginning to get annoyed with him. “Why won’t you get up when I shout,” she said. Arthur said nothing, he knew she would only worry.

You see the funny thing about the village was that there were other people in it too. Arthur could tell that he was a child there because he had to look up to see the grown ups faces when they smiled at him or spoke. Over the days Arthur began to recognise people’s faces and particularly a small group of friends that he seemed to play with.

Soon Arthur began to look forward to going to bed so he could wake up in the morning in the village. His mother began to worry. “Why are you so tired,” she would say, “ I have never known you want to go to bed so early. Perhaps we should take you to a Doctor”, but Arthur just told her he felt fine and perhaps it was the excitement of being eleven soon.

Arthur liked his time in the village, he liked his new friends and he liked exploring the area around the huts. One morning a group of them went further out of the village than ever before. Arthur began to feel excited when he saw they were going towards a river. He wanted to run ahead but he knew that if he made the slightest move he would be back in his bedroom.

Arthur looked down and saw that he was carrying a large clay jug. As they neared the edge of the river he bent down to fill it from the water. But there, just before the jug  touched the surface of the water, he saw his reflection.

Arthur sat straight up in bed and he was back in his bedroom. He jumped from his bed and ran to the bathroom and stared into the mirror. He felt relieved when he saw his own face staring at him. His eyes were still blue and his hair was the strange dirty yellow it always was.

All day the image of himself that he had seen in the river haunted him. He was round faced with rich dark brown eyes and a magical smile. He just wanted the day at school to end so that he could get home, go to bed and wake up again the village.

He ate his dinner so fast that his mother thought he would be sick and when he said he wanted to go to bed when it was still daylight she was really worried that something was wrong.

Arthur lay under his duvet and tried to fall asleep. It was worse than Christmas Eve. It didn’t matter what he did he could not stop his brain from thinking. At some point in the night, and Arthur didn’t know when, he finally fell asleep.

When he woke up it was dark, at first Arthur thought there was nothing there but soon his eyes became accustomed to the light. He could see a woman lying on a bed. He must be inside the hut. The woman was moaning gently. He could hear a voice speaking which he began to realise was his. He could not understand what the voice was saying but he knew what it meant.

The woman was ill and he was saying that he would do the chores, he would go and get the water, he would make the food. He went out into the daylight of the village and set off down to the river. Arthur recognized the way they were walking from the day before. Every so often he could see the jug come into his eyesight as it swung on his arm.

Soon he was by the bank of the river bending down. Arthur concentrated as he bent low over the water. Yes, there he was again, that face that was his but yet wasn’t him. As soon as the jug entered the water the face shattered into a thousand lights and was gone.

With the jug filled they walked back to the village. The boy poured water into clay beakers and passed them to some other smaller children before carrying one into the hut for the sick woman.

His mother shaking the bed made Arthur move his head and the hut vanished. It was time for school again.

Over the next few weeks Arthur was fascinated to watch these brief moments of life in the village. It became clear that it was hard. There was not much food and everyone seemed to work almost all the time. The woman in the hut was no longer there and when he sat inside looking at the bed his eyes would fill with tears.

But something else was happening. The view of the village was getting fainter. It was as if a grey mist was descending over the picture. When he caught sight of himself in the river his eyes did not look the same. Sometimes he would fall over something he hadn’t seen.

One morning when he woke up he couldn’t see at all. It was just like a grey fog . That was the last time that Arthur woke in another place.

On the morning of Arthur’s eleventh birthday he was eating breakfast at the table when the post fell through the letterbox.

“Can you get that Arthur,” his mother shouted.

Arthur wiped the milk from his chin and went up the hall to the front door. He picked up the post and went back to the table munching on his cereal. A he sat down he  flicked through the letters taking out his birthday cards.

He almost choked when he saw on the front of one of the envelopes, a picture of himself. But it wasn’t him as Arthur, it was him as he looked in the village. Arthur suddenly felt cold and sick.

“Anything important?” his mother shouted from the kitchen.

Arthur shoved the letter in his pocket although he didn’t know why. “Nope, just birthday cards” said Arthur in as calm a voice as his body would let out. “I’ll open them later when I get back I’m going off to school now.”

“But you’ll be early, “ said his mum, “And I haven’t given you our present.”

“I know but I’ve got things to do. See you,” he said pulling the door closed at the same time to stop the conversation.

Arthur walked up the path and along the road as fast as he could. He was breathless and feeling slightly dizzy. As soon as he got to a bench he sat down. Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter.

He closed his eyes and held the letter in his hands. He knew that when he opened them that everything would be OK. It would just be a normal letter and he could relax.

Arthur opened his eyes one at a time. Only it was no good. The face staring back at him was his. What was happening? Arthur read the sentence under his photo on the envelope – ‘Will you give the gift of sight to Afram?’

Arthur opened the envelope and took out the letter and began to read it.

Dear Supporter,

Will you give the gift of sight to Afram?

Afram is just twelve years old. Ten months ago his mother fell ill and Afram had to look after his family. Four months ago Afram lost his sight to Juvenile Glaucoma. Now he cannot look after his younger brothers and sisters and struggles to survive.

A simple operation could give Afram his sight again.

Just £15 can fund the operation to help Afram and others like him.

Will you give the gift of sight to Afram?’

Arthur pushed the letter deep into his school bag and walked to school. He was quiet during the morning and his friends began to worry about him. At lunchtime he knew what he was going to do.

“Tomorrow,” he announced, “I am going to hold a toy sale, you can help if you want, because I need to raise £15 to give a boy in Ghana his sight back.” As Arthur explained about Afram the others all agreed.

After lunch they spoke to their class teacher who was only too pleased to help and during the afternoon posters went up in the school windows and letters were sent home.

The next day children brought their old toys and put them on tables in the hall. At first break everyone spent their money buying the things they wanted. Some children were so excited they accidently bought back the toy they had brought in themselves. By the time the sale was over the teacher asked Arthur and others to see the Headteacher.

The Head was very pleased with them and their toy sale had raised over £110. Arthur handed over the envelope from the charity and the teacher put a cheque inside and promised to post it that night.

Later that year, as Arthur was beginning to think about moving on to secondary school, he woke from a scary dream. Lying perfectly frozen in bed he opened his eyes. For a second he was confused and then he could not believe it. It was true. He was back in the village. He could see his brothers and sisters running towards him and some of the older people were grinning and laughing as he walked towards them. 

He could see the huts, he could see the trees, he could see the sky, he could see the woman come out of the hut in tears as she ran to him. He could see.

“Did you have a good sleep?” asked his mother when Arthur came downstairs.

“Not a good sleep,” said Arthur, “but a wonderful waking up,” and with that he smiled so broadly that his mother knew something special had happened