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Nestor Cruz.

He was a blind Vietnam vet…a homeless man. Alone in a lot of ways, but not. He reminded me of myself in too many ways by the time I finished with his case.

Nestor showed me the darker side of being invisible…he made me realize the deepest reasons why I’ve had to hide my gift from the people I care about. The normal world…it doesn’t want to see the bad things, and so it doesn’t. It also doesn’t want to see things it can’t understand. It turns its gaze from both because both frighten them.

That’s me and Nestor…pretty scary fellas.

Before Nestor, I thought my eyes were open to a lot of things…ghosts, psychic phenomenon, the power of curses and witchcraft…there wasn’t much I *didn’t* believe in anymore.

I thought I was different from most people…but I wasn’t. I saw the dead, I saw the darker side of a city where The Beautiful People reign supreme…but there was still a lot I didn’t see.

Dante told me that the heart was the seat of all emotion…that when I heard Nestor trying to tell me about his heart, that that was the reason.

When I held that heart…his medal in my hands…when I heard those words echo in my ears again, I understood just how right Dante really was. Only a small measure, though…it wouldn’t be until I met a young dead woman named Julia Caufield that I’d really learn how something as insignificant and small as an old war medal…or crossing paths with a beautiful woman in a bar.

Me and Nestor Cruz…the homeless guy on the street, the forgotten heroes that have fought for their country, the men and women who suffer in silence because of strange and terrible, wonderful gifts that they never asked for.

We’re all invisible to you. And while we may be lonely people…we’re never really alone. None of us.

Muse: Frank Taylor
Fandom: Haunted
Words: 318


glowinthedark: (Default)
Frank Taylor

July 2008

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