This white ball was attached to the end of a long cane, and was used by blind and partially sighted people to help them navigate their surroundings. It was often tightened with a screw or spring to keep in place, and fit comfortably in the palm of the user’s hand. This one has several scuff marks on its surface, meaning it was used frequently over pavements and kerbs by its owner. It’s unclear how it parted ways with the long cane. However, theories suggest the screw may have come loose while crossing a road, as the ball bounced in its last moments when analysed.
The ball is round and rough, like a globe, but comforting and familiar. Unlike a globe it has no map, for it is full of places that are more felt than seen. With it, I explore the world, finding wonder in each step, as its song guides me to safe harbours and new horizons. It rotates on faith, revolves on independence, and I wouldn’t be without my ball. And yes, you can laugh at that. I don’t mind. As long as you don’t take my ball, of course.
Sarah Oakes is a visually impaired science fiction and fantasy writer who loves music, mythology, and plays the clarinet. She has had one short story, three poems and many flashes published, both in print and online, and is currently working on a novella in flash. Her work can be found in The Microlit Almanac, The Failing Writers Podcast, Bubble Lit Mag, The Welkin Writing Prize,, Voidspace Zine, Pure Slush, Wishbone Words, Sixpence Society, FromOneLine, and National Flash Fiction Day. You can also find her on Twitter at: @SarahOa64492096