A Story by Tapsi

This a description of the feelings coursing through a person when she visits her home after a span of 20 years. the person is a refugee who has left his homeland after years continuous violence.




The eerie silence was overwhelming. He whispers in the dark seemed loud enough to make me clamp down my ears. My silent footsteps transported me to the time gone by. I glided down the porch in a trance like state. The bygone era sprouted up on me as I looked around what used to be our home- our safe haven. I ran my fingers along the imaginary contours of the belongings which had once fond a place here. Twenty years is a long time….I sighed. The aura of this place had evaporated. It was no longer a home- my home. It was nothing more than the surviving reminiscent of our past. The past that held memories- memories which had suddenly started to play in my mind. The difference between the flashbacks and the time now was excruciating. A shiver, that had nothing to do with the cold outside, ran down my back. The shier brought with it an odd sense of déjà vu. The shiver established an unbreakable connection to the painful memories I had done a good job of blocking. It was as if I could still sense the trepidation that hung like a black cloud, holding us frozen every time we heard the people outside screaming ill of us. The relief, when we could still witness the sun rise the next day- having made it through the night. The desire to prolong our moments here a bit more, though being thoroughly aware that we were just procrastinating the inevitable. The remorse of leaving the land that mothered us. The tears of relief that streamed down when we realized that we had left, safe and alive. The full circle I had come today. I feel myself being swallowed by the gaping hole of long buried memories…..and then suddenly, I snap out of it. This is the past. It is gone, like sand trickling out of a closed fist. This place is not my home- it’s nothing but a ruined house. I belong in the real world. The throbbing and the living world that held the purpose of my existence. I shut the hole of my memories. Unintentionally frightened, I am barely conscious of my mother behind me. I yank her out of the house, locking the door behind me with trembling hands. “Past, past” I keep chanting in my head. I take my mother’s hand and pull her somewhat roughly towards the car. I started driving, till my wildly thudding heart slows down a little and my breathing turns slowly even. It’s then I notice my mother sobbing quietly besides me. 

© 2010 Tapsi

Author's Note

this is one of my rare attempts at write-ups rather than poems, so your reviews are more than welcome
thank you.

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Liked it Tapsi! Though it might look like a prose. Since it has such a flow from one line to the other, its a poem!

Loved the line - "The aura of this place had evaporated."
And this one send shivers - "It was no longer a home- my home."

And I also loved reading this words "Past, Past" -- "“Past, past” I keep chanting in my head."

Though completely opposite (perhaps), would you like to read something about "Home" that I wrote in "The Home and Its Tree"


Posted 8 Years Ago

A outstanding story. Detail and story was excellent. Could feel the fear and the sadness in your words. A excellent story.

Posted 8 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Intense !! This write is very vivid and the flow of emotion is darn good !! Well written !!! :D

Posted 8 Years Ago

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3 Reviews
Added on January 27, 2010
Last Updated on January 27, 2010
Tags: exodus, motherland, past




About introspection is not exactly my forte :P Tapsi AkhoonCreate Your Badge * html td td td td.text { background-image: url(' more..

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