Dangerously Close (A Collection of Fictional Short Stories)

| Line of No Return |

Since the day words spilled from her tiny lips, my daughter Caroline proved she had an unlimited imagination. Once she had told this long story about the world beyond the storage room beside one of her classrooms. Two of her teachers would always slip inside and disappear for a long time before tumbling out fixing their clothes. Of course, I laughed at her innocent thoughts, knowing what really was going on and only warned her that if she went to explore this room, she may get lost too. Then I would never see her again.

Her father accused me of passing down my imaginative genes, however, I beg to differ. He was just as lucid minded as I was, with his impending thoughts about the end of the world and how aliens lived amongst us in invisible forms.

"Only the children can see them," he grinned as we poked at our desserts last night at the dinner table. Our daughter had bopped her head of curls agreeing.

"Oh really?"

"Yes honey. Only if they believe in it with all their hearts."

"I don't mind imagination Jed, but there's a fine line between reality and unreality," I said, waving my fork in the air like a wand. "If you cross it then there is no return."

"Are you saying one would go crazy," he said, making a silly face at Caroline. She laughed and made a face back.

When I would write my stories or type feverishly on my desktop, I knew they were not real. I had many paths to take towards a great number of endings. And even then, I knew when to shut that door and return to reality we called life. My stories were always so wild and free and could be believable if God had created such things like dragons, elves, magic wands, and talking animals.

I stared at my computer screen, a smirk crawling onto my face. I could hear my husband calling me by a new nickname all day yesterday. And did my daughter laugh and join in on the fun.

Dull Brain has no sense of humor. Dull Brain can't imagine like we do Caroline, he'd joke.

And in return, I punished him by refusing to have sex with him last night.

Take that for dull, Jed!

Running footsteps thumped pass my office door followed by my daughter's giggle.

"Caroline, stop running," I said, breaking free from my desk. I slid my feet into my cushioned slippers and made my way down the hall to her room.

I walked in on her talking to the air, half out of breath, and a wide smile on her face.

"Caroline, what are you doing?"

She turned her grin to me, revealing the two missing top teeth. "Playing with Skipper," she said.

"Oh, okay. Try not to run through the house and don't break anything," I said.

In this house, we knew once we opened our minds to free our imaginations, it's best to give the other some space. Who knew what masterpiece could form from one minute of free thought and absence from the world?

I retraced my steps to my office down the hall and within minutes I was indulged in the story I was writing. A story, short and funny, to entertain a child's sweet heart. About an hour in with eyes burning from being glued to the computer screen, I heard a crash. Before the squeal followed, I was already running down the hall. I burst into Caroline's room and gasped. The neat room, which I had cleaned earlier that morning, now displayed its own type of natural disaster. Her Barbie lamp was on the floor, cracked and shattered, bulb flickering within its bent shade.

"Sweetheart, what did you do?"

Jaw hanging, Caroline said, "We're sorry mommy. We were wrestling and he jumped on me."