Peripheral Vision | Flash Fiction

Luella Schmidt
5 min readOct 29, 2021

If we don’t face our demons, our demons will come for us.

Trigger Warning: Suicidal Thoughts.

Photo by Peter OToole, Shutterstock

Bad things happen when it rains. I don’t mind it so much if I’m out and about. I even enjoy a nice walk around the neighborhood in the rain. But I’m stuck inside today and it’s so dark in my room. I woke up feeling pretty good, too, such a shame.

I suffer from a genetic disease called Retinitis Pigmentosa. I call it RIP for short. Like RIP my fucking vision because it’s basically toast. It could be worse. It’s not painful and I can still see. But it’s only a matter of time. First, it comes for your night vision. I haven’t driven at night in a decade. Then it comes for your peripheral vision, and the tunnel through which I navigate my world will keep shrinking and shrinking until… lights out.

I try not to let it get me down. I am gathering my clothes and toiletries for a shower when I see the first one. Feathery and gray, it seems to hover near the ceiling to my left. I turn my head quick and it’s moved. Now it seems to be on my right, near the corner where my comfy reading chair, colorful rug, and stack of unreads lies. I try to spend a little time reading there every day because I know the clock is ticking. I rush to my favorite corner, my sacred corner, and everything appears safe and untouched. Just to be sure, I push my stack of books and magazines over, scattering them around the floor and looking around and between them. Nothing. I crawl under my comfy chair to inspect the dark corner and my head gets stuck a little bit. I thrash around and I eventually get loose. All clear.

Wait! There’s another one, to my left near the curtain! I don’t turn my head this time to try to catch it. Instead I stand completely still and try to make out what it’s doing. I try to keep my room as cheery as I can. My curtains are an abstract pattern of dark blues and purples. It reminded me of Van Gogh’s Starry Night when I bought them and I don’t want that demon thing messing with my curtains. But I force myself to stay still and I watch. This one is not dark gray like the others. It is silvery, almost shimmery, and it reminds me of my wedding day. The way it floats in the corner of my eye, I can remember floating down the aisle with the love of my life like it was yesterday. God we were…

Luella Schmidt

Writer ✱ Creator ✱ Entrepreneur. I write about history, politics, & justice ♥ and the Top 100 albums, movies, & novels. ♥ ♥ Peace ♥