Hmm, not sure if I like it

[saitaina]

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

What happens when you go insane? When the world you thought you knew, doesn’t exist anymore? When the fabric of reality starts to unravel in your hands and you can’t stop the threads from falling apart?

It had been a little over a year since Thomas Greyson had last been home. As he sat at the bus stop, watching the rain beat against the hard plastic shelter he wondered what had changed since he left. What was still there to remind him of what he left behind.

a little over a year ago, his world had been turned inside out. Everything he thought he knew, about himself, his parents, his family…had been wrong.

So he set out to find the truths. To find out who he was. The road had been a circle though, and lead him right back to the same town and the same doorstep he started from.

He raised his head, lines of exhaustion and struggle making his face as he watched the shiny black car his father had sent for him pull up. The driver stepped out and opened the rear door for him, eyes expressionless as they studied the small blonde in oversized and filthy clothes.

Thomas stood and nodded to the man before sliding into the car, resting his head back against the plush uplulstry of the seat. Home. You never really thought about what it meant, until there was a chance you could lose it.

It wasn’t just a house he shared with his parents. It wasn’t just a roof and the same décor they’d had since he was five. Home was a place that could be anywhere and no where. So long as the people that loved you were there. So long as the feelings of warmth, safety, familiarity, love, and freedom where there…everywhere could be home.

As the car wound it’s way through the rain slicked streets, Thomas watched the people passing by the windows and wondered if they what he had discovered. He thought about the long journey that he had taken, seeking what he already had, and paused to wonder if Sadia still held two jobs, or if the Branson family had ever made peace with the past.

He shifted in his seat and pulled a fading envelope from his back pocket, running a finger over the smudged letters as he remembered how the journey began.

It was a warm summer day of his eighteenth year. When, after football practice, the flag on the mailbox heralded the start of a new stage in his life.

(working title for this novel is “Finding Thomas” which sounds odd to me but there you go)