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December 28, 2007

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings, Fiction, Life, Travel, Uncategorized.
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Medea started her journey with a sandwich and a cupcake. She had been told to take the second right turn home, but on the way she realized she didn’t know what home was. She had forgotten, just like the way-oops, sorry, no parallel here. She stopped by the wayside at a quarter to twelve, just as she had been told, and ate her cupcake. The sandwich she preserved for her four o’clock snack, unlike what she had been told.

Medea’s one significant characteristic was that she had none. Wait, this is quite like one of the bagful of storyteller’s clichés. What would be more accurate, would be that Medea could stand in the middle of the street and no one would see her. You know, quite like how spies and detectives fashion themselves, except in her case, no fashioning was required. She just was. And she knew it. What she felt about it was anybody’s guess, for she never told.

Yap yap, yappity yap. Medea fed the last of her cupcake to the scraggly little puppy that stood before her, wagging its dot of a tail.

“Where to, scruffy?” She asked.

“Wait; what am I doing? I’m talking to a dog. I never talk to things. Except myself, quite like what I’m doing right now, but that’s besides the point.” Hm.

She stood up, dusted the meagre crumbs into a heap where Scruffy could get at it, and watched as Scruffy was joined by other little scruffies.

“Quite a happy family,” she said, and her mood darkened.

Country roaaad…take me hommee…she sang in her head.

Four o’clock came, and she sat under the same tree and ate her sandwich. She noted discontentedly that it was a vegetable sandwich, and an average one at that.

Take the second right turn home, but where was home?       

“I do not have amnesia, no. Atleast not like how it is in the movies.” She remembered her name, and she knew she remembered the reason behind her name, except it was as if the knowledge was hiding behind a stone wall. Sometimes she wanted to claw at that wall, but it was never any good.

Home…she had secretly looked up the dictionary meaning of it, but the words did not ring any bells. She knew she had people who were close to her; there was a tiered system of affection, and home had something to do with that.

She knew her world was closing in on her, and she knew her mind was collapsing in on itself. A boulder rolling down a hill, closing in on her. A boulder bouncing like a ping pong ball, with her strapped to the table.

The sun rose in the morning, reached its peak when she had he cupcake, and set in the distance as she settled beneath the tree.

She didn’t know where home was, but she wasn’t bothered. Someone would tell her, she knew.

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Comments»

1. ish - December 28, 2007

Is medea supposed to be media? If it is, then I understand and this is well written and totally true. Sorry if I’m being shallow though.

2. sporadicblogger - December 28, 2007

The interpretation is up to you 🙂

3. KnotKeats - December 29, 2007

I am certain that lots of people will tell her where home lies. Let’s hope she does not believe them.

‘Home is where you hang your hat.”

“Home is that place where, when you have to go there, they have to let you in.”

I believe in those two homes. Maybe Medea will too. I hope she will discover what home is for herself.


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