Random Tu Writings

Alex

There’s something wrong with Alex!

After reading Alex a bedtime story, as usual, my wife returned to our room with a vacant expression. Her eyes were distant as she stared blankly at the ceiling.

“You alright?” I asked. But her mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if searching for answers in the shadows.

“Your turn...” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Huh?”

“Tomorrow, it’s your turn to read him a bedtime story.”

“Ok...?” I responded hesitantly. Though I tried to dismiss it as mere exhaustion or a passing mood, a nagging doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind.

The following evening, I found myself standing outside Alex’s bedroom door, a sense of apprehension gnawing at my insides. I stepped into the room, greeted by the soft glow of the bedside lamp and the sound of Alex’s gentle breathing as he waited in his bed.

“Hey buddy, I’ll be reading the bedtime story tonight,” I said, crossing the room to sit beside his bed.

“Ok,” Alex replied sleepily, blinking up at me as I entered the room.

“I’ll be reading the story of Medusa,” I said while opening the book. “Once upon a time...”

It was the story of a girl named Medusa. She was a beautiful girl, but she was also exceedingly arrogant. She thought of herself as the most beautiful being and disrespected the goddess Athena. Athena, feeling enraged, cursed Medusa, transforming her into a hideous monster with serpentine hair and a gaze that turned onlookers to stone. The moral of the story was that arrogance and disrespect can lead to dire consequences.

“...the end,” I concluded, closing the book with a sense of finality.

“...the end,” I concluded, closing the book with a sense of finality.

“𝗜𝘁’𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝗲,” Alex said while staring at me.

“Huh?”

“The story, it’s a lie.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled by his statement.

“The story said Medusa was turned into a hideous monster with serpentine locks that slither endlessly on her head, with eyes that glow like embers, and all that looked at her turned to stone.”

“Yes.”

“The description of her appearance after her transformation is well-detailed, therefore someone had to look at her afterward to write it. But no one should be able to look at her after her transformation, as everyone who sees her turns to stone. So, the story must be false.”

“Wow, you’re right! The story—” I began, but Alex interrupted me before I could finish.

“The real curse,” he interjected, his voice filled with conviction, “Is the rumors spread by whoever wrote the story. Athena was probably just jealous that a human was prettier than her, so she used her power and influence to ruin her reputation. Medusa’s transformation into a monstrous figure represents the dehumanization and vilification of individuals who become targets of envy or resentment.”

“Er...” I stammered, struggling to find words to express my astonishment.

“Even in real life, individuals or groups who hold animosity or resentment towards someone spread rumors, misinformation, or false narratives to tarnish their reputation, sow distrust, or bring about their downfall. They distort the truth and manipulate perceptions to maintain control or dominance. From a political standpoint, the story of Medusa can be interpreted as a narrative about the abuse of power, the manipulation of perception, and the consequences of authoritarian rule.”

I froze, struck speechless by the depth of his analysis. And before I could respond, he leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Goodnight Dad,” he said, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

With a sense of awe lingering, I made my way to my room, still pondering the profound insights he had shared. As I entered the room, my vacant expression mirrored the one my wife had worn the night before.

“How old is he again?” I asked, turning to my wife who was lying in bed.

“Nine.”

I settled into bed beside her and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Tomorrow, it’s your turn to read him a bedtime story,” I said to her.

She sighed and stared blankly at the ceiling too. We stayed like that for hours.

“I think there’s something wrong with Alex.”