My Beloved Pet Chapter 1
The rain pours down from the sky onto my car. I'm on my way home after another dull day at work: same old problems, same old tolerance to it. I don’t know why I even bother. Nothing ever changes. I hate my life. My life would be much better if I had someone to share it with a boyfriend, girlfriend, or partner. I don’t care. I am just tired of being alone.
My friends have tried to set up blind dates for me, but they were either still living with their parents, working a dead-end job, or way below my standards. It was ridiculous how many of them only wanted a casual hookup. I almost ran out of the date when a girl kept saying everyone kept abandoning her and needed a place to stay. I am not a charity. It was clear to everyone but her that she was the problem.
I made it to my apartment building. It is nothing special—a regular two-story building in an okay neighborhood. We are allowed to decorate our doors. Some put flowers on, others elaborate designs. I only put a sign with my name on it. My neighbor likes to dress his door up for each holiday.
He is a nice older man. However, he would sometimes say the strangest things. He must have lost his mind at one point in life. Just last week, he told me about someone stalking outside the apartment complex.
After running in a desperate attempt to stay dry, I made it to my room. I looked at my name on the sign as I unlocked the door. Sharon Welch. It's still my maiden name. There is no new last name or a partner. It makes me sad. I am almost 30 years old, and I am still single. It is just not fair. What is wrong with me?
I can't think about it right now. I need to prepare dinner for tonight and the next few nights. My apartment feels empty. I don't know why I have such lousy luck regarding my love life. The only way I can feel companionship is in my dreams.
Those dreams are always so vivid like it is real life. I keep seeing this male figure. He treats me so gently and lovingly. He is the perfect gentleman. Why can't I get it in reality? Sometimes, he would try to kiss me and take it further, but I always pushed him away and shook my head no. I don't know what he looks like, but just the feeling of him is enough for me.
He usually visits my dreams twice a week. After every visit, I would feel a little extra tired even though I had a good night's sleep. It does not matter. I have used him as an example of what I want in my future boyfriend or girlfriend. He is what those potential suitors need to be.
My friends just don't get it. I should distance myself from them. They will never understand me. They are the ones who set me up on those terrible blind dates in the first place. I bet they were trying to hurt me for some reason. Well, some friends they sure are.
After changing into more comfortable clothes, I start making my suppers. Opening the fridge, I can see ingredients for something, like pasta with mixed vegetables. That could work. And I will have plenty of leftovers. I can even have the leftovers for lunches at work. It is always nice to think ahead. I'm not too fond of it when Murphy's law takes effect. Things happening that are out of your control? No, thank you.
As I started getting the pot ready, I heard a soft bang. I turned my head to look but saw nothing out of the ordinary. I shrugged and continued with the task at hand. It must have been nothing. It wasn't the first time I heard some strange sound. Those noises have been going on for quite a while. Are the pipes acting up?
It doesn't matter. All I need to focus on is my meal prep. I started pouring in the pasta noodles when what felt like arms wrapped around my midsection. I try to turn my head, but something holds it. I must focus only on what is before me. So that is what I did. I need to focus on cooking right now.
When I had to reach for a strainer to filter out the water, I could not move to get it.
"W-Why can't I m-move?" I ask myself. I wouldn't say I like it when I talk. If I chose it, I would be mute. It is because of my stuttering. It has been a problem since junior high.
My peers would make fun of my voice. They would even try to mimic my voice after I answered a question they asked me. It made me feel very self-conscious. It resulted in me developing my stutter, which made the teasing worse. Since then, I have only talked if it is planned and practiced what I will say. Even when I am home alone, I choose to stay silent. So it came as a surprise what I said out loud next.
“I ne-need to mo-move!” I desperately called out. That is when the invisible binds slowly let me go. I was bewildered. Why, now, was I released? What was holding me in place? And why was I not released until I stated that it had to? It all did not make sense.
I finished making dinner with plenty of leftovers for the next few days. I grabbed a serving for my supper and sat in front of the TV to see what was on.
Flipping through the channels was getting boring, and at one point, I found out that one of my favorite movies was on. The movie is about a human settler girl being the target of affection from a dark entity. He tries to make the girl his bride. In the end, she was able to get rid of him and live happily with the handsome monster hunter who helped her.
I will always love this story. It makes me wish I could have that kind of luck. The idea of some powerful being falling madly in love with me sounds good right now. Or just being the object of desire for someone would be nice. But that is not my life. I am forever alone in this miserable world.
Once the movie ended, I put away my leftovers and went to bed. Maybe I will dream about my perfect gentleman again. I know he can make this dull day a little better.
As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell fast asleep.
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something. about. the horror of being sent on an impossible (death) quest and obligations and hospitality politics. the trauma of not having a home, and then the trauma of being in a house that becomes actively hostile to you, one that would swallow you whole and spit out your bones if you step out of line. all of this is conditional, your existence continues to be something men want gone.
it's about going back as far as I can with the perseus narrative because there's always a version of a myth that exists behind the one that survives. the missing pieces are clearly defined, but the oldest recorded version of it isn't there! and there's probably something older before that!! but it's doomed to forever be an unfilled space, clearly defined by an outline of something that was there and continues to be there in it's absence.
and love. it's also about love. even when you had nothing, you had love.
on the opposite side of the spectrum, this is Not About Ovid Or Roman-Renaissance Reception, Depictions And Discourses On The Perseus Narrative.
edit: to add to the above, while it's not about Ovid, because I'm specifically trying to peel things back to the oldest version of this story, Ovid is fine. alterations on the Perseus myth that give more attention Medusa predate Ovid by several centuries. this comic is also not about those, either! there are many versions of this story from the ancient world. there is not one singular True or Better version, they're all saying something.
Perseus, Daniel Ogden
Anthology of Classical Myth: Primary Sources in Translation, edited & translated by Stephen M Trzaskoma, R. Scott Smith, Stephen Brunet
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