G sat in the bedroom and looked at the paper that covered the walls. He felt strange. He and his wife had slept in this room all of their married life. Yet he could not remember what the walls looked like. He had been blind. Now he could see again. He got up and he walked over to the wall. He touched the paper with its small red flowers and green leaves. The colors were old and dull.

G had gotten his sight back in the morning. He had opened his eyes and there it was, light. Light, he had not seen for 5 years. At first, the light was blurry. Then he saw light shadows, then everything became bright and sharp. And so he simply sat there and looked at all the things around him. His wife and his son had cried when he told them. G said all the things they wanted to hear.

To his son, he said: "You have grown tall, tall as a tree. You are just like a man now. It is good to see you and your smile again."

It was not so easy to talk to his wife.

"You look the same, Lina, exactly the same."

It was a lie. But he kept on saying it. It helped to hide his feelings when he saw her old thin face. Lina had never been beautiful but her warm smile gave her a pretty look. Now the hard work of caring for a blind man showed on her face. She looked tired. G suddenly felt like rushing outside to do something to pay her for those difficult years.

After a time, Lina and their son left and G sat there and thought about the past. Everything would be different now, now that he could see again. In the afternoon G became tired. He rested as he looked at the old wallpaper. He began to wonder if he could start where he had left off. They had no money. Lina had thought about selling the farm but now that would not be necessary because he could work. With help from their son, they would keep the farm.

Ideas began to form in his mind. He thought about the future. The thought of working again began to excite him. At last, G felt brave enough to go outside. He wondered what changes would be there.

Lina looked worried. "Please be careful," she said. "The doctor said to rest and be quiet."

"Oh, I'll be all right," G answered and left the house.

The daylight hurt his eyes at first. He closed them for a few minutes. Then he slowly opened them and started to walk slowly toward the river. When he got there he sat on an old fallen tree and looked around. He saw his farm fields. He saw how much work was to be done. He started to make plans.

It was a day in late April. It was still cool. But G just sat there and looked and planned. He saw the wilding muddy river. He saw the purple hills reaching up to the sky. He saw the oak trees bigger now along the side of the river. They were covered with white flowers. He watched the black birds fly down to his fields. He had forgotten that they were so graceful. G had a sudden urge to go out and work in the fields. But the feeling quickly left. He felt peaceful. He enjoyed the quiet happiness of seeing.

Nothing could stop him now, he thought. He would build his land into a good farm again. He began to plan again to organize his thoughts. When he had been blind his thoughts had been blind too. He looked at his hands. They were white and thin and soft. He would teach them to work again.

After a time, G got up and started to walk toward the house. Now that his thoughts were clear and he had plans. He wanted to talk to his wife and son. And then he wanted to feel the freedom he had missed so much. He started to run, smiling and talking happily to himself. He was excited that he could move so fast without any help. How wonderful to walk alone. He almost stepped on a frog that jumped between his feet.

"Out of the way, frog." he shouted and laughed. He laughed to the sky and to the trees and to the world.

It was then that he noticed a change. A grey curtain fell slowly down over the river and the valley. He stood still and opened his eyes as wide as he could. The curtain continued to fall now over the oak trees until they became tall shadows. G closed his eyes and put his hands against them. He hoped and hoped but when he opened them again, it was still dark. The dark fog was still there. This was how it had happened 5 years ago. He remembered it clearly. One minute he could see. The next minute a dark fog covered the light. He saw that the fog got thicker. The purple hills went first. Then the oak trees and their white flowers, then G saw that the farmland and the house were gone too. A terrible fear arose inside of him. He hit the air with his hands, trying to push the darkness back.

"No, please," he shouted. "Not again." He hit his hands together in helpless anger. But the shadows got darker.

"Stop! Stop!" He cried. "No more suffering! Give me a chance! Hold the darkness back, please!" G reached out to the sky and begged. But it came slow and heavy, the darkness grew. He could still hear the river but he could not see it. He started to run to leave the darkness behind him. As he ran he hit a tree. He got up and ran again. He felt no pain only cold terror. Suddenly, he stopped running. He put his hands out and touched a rough old tree. He put his arms around the tree and started to laugh. He laughed for a long time and very loud. He was a fool, he thought, a weak-minded old fool. There was nothing to worry about. It was night. He had forgotten the night. Yes, that was why it was dark. It was always dark at night. In 5 years of blindness, he had forgotten. Night came early to the valley in April. G sat down under the tree, weak from laughing, wait until he told Lina and his son. They would laugh with him.

Of course, he was not blind again. If could not happen 2 times in 1 lifetime. He leaned his head back against the tree and smiled once more. The late evening sun shone red on the tears that came from his eyes.

You have just heard the American Story "Dark". It was written by Josephine Johnson. Your storyteller was Shep O’Neal. The producer was Lowan Davids. It was published by Doubleday, Doran & Company in O.Henry Prize Stories of 1934. This is a copyrighted story, all rights reserved. The Voice of America invites you to listen next week at the same time for another American story told in Special English. This is Shirley Griffith.