glad I nosed through her stuff, though I got in trouble for it.”
He listens, tip of his tail patting my back.
As tears begin, I stamp my paw and sniffle. “How can this be?” I stare into the distance for a moment, then my gaze rests upon the crypt again.
Louis Braille.
I’m distracted by little dots in a nice pattern underneath his name. At least it’s something else to think about.
Sniffle. “Léonce, do you know what those dots are for?”
All he says is, “Let’s go.”
Not knowing what else to do, I follow my friend, padding through the darkened hallways. We pass by the way we entered before and find it is shut tight.
My shoulder starts to ache.
It’s real dark and we’re trapped, underground, with all these crypts. I stare down the darkened corridors and hallways, tightness in my throat. “H-how will we get out?”
He doesn’t reply but continues trotting.
I uncovered a dangerous plot and I’m stuck in this cold building with no way out.
Far from my family.
Darkness closing in.
Betrayed.
I feel very small.
At the end of the corridor, a brilliant spotlight highlights an emblem. Alpha & Omega! That’s a symbol for the Creator as the beginning and end of all things. When I first came to live with them, Dad told me Alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabetand Omega is the last. It must have been there all the time, but I only noticed it now since it’s so dark. I don’t remember what the middle symbol is, but I hope to ask Dad again.
Hope. Amazing how a tiny spot of light reminds me.
Okay then. I’m still breathing.
That means He has a plan with my name on it, because I know He will never betray me. He loves me.
I can do this.
We trot along quietly, deep in the dark. When I can stand it no longer I ask again. “How will we get out?”
“I know a way,” says my feline friend.
“It seems quite a long way. Where are we going?”
“Souvenir shop.”
After almost forever, we climb a long flight of wide steps into a different part of the building.
When we top the stairs, the intricate stone floor is smooth and cool on my pads. The sound of my nails click-clicking echoes through this part of the building. We turn a corner and…
Wow. Just… wow.
I feel very small.
I trot near the middle of the room and crank my head way back. A few lamps wayyyy high spotlight the sight. The painted ceiling goes up and up, nearly into the clouds, and… How odd. It almost looked like the shadows moved.
Huge paintings cover each wall. There’s a battle scene, with a canine character!
When we near the front entrance, Léonce says, “Keep busy. I’ll be back.” He leaps onto the souvenir counter and uses a paw to push a drawer open, then a cabinet, then hunts under the counter. Wonder what he’s looking for?
Closer to the floor, I notice jewelry and cardboard photographs of La Tour Eiffel , scarves marked “Paris” and mugsfor coffee or tea. Now that I think of it, souvenir sounds French. Mom calls these “little remembrance gifts.”
I spy many books on shelves, kind of like we have at home. But it’s odd. There are several copies of the exact same books. On the outside of one, I recognize the lady Marie Curie from the video and, ooh, there’s one about Louis Braille. I glance over at Léonce – still hunting – so I’ll peek inside. Maybe it’ll tell me about those intriguing little dots.
Here’s a drawing of Mr. Louis as a young human. He was three years when he went blind. How sad. While attending a special school when he was about eleven years – young for a human – he began improving on a secret code the military used at night.
The book says dots in raised patterns form letters of the alphabet. Someone blind or in the dark feels the dots to decipher the code.
Quite logical.
I turn more pages. It says his system changed many blind people’s lives, all over the world. Long after he died, his remains were moved so his memory could be honored. I guess I should
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley