A Collection of Short Stories

Imaginary Friend (Possible Upcoming Story)

Sitting in the small, white, play chair, she giggled as she poured some sweetened tea into a small cup in front of a stuffed bear, half her size. It had a white ribbon tied in a neat bow around its neck, and button eyes that shined in the sunlight. Its fur was a chocolate brown, and soft to the touch, despite countless years of being dragged around in the dirt, on concrete, and all through the house and yard. Her mother kept it in great condition, and for that, Maybell was grateful. "Mr. Fuzzy, do you want cream?" There was a small pause, like she was awaiting a reply, then sighed, sitting back in her chair. She gazed sadly at her bear, wanting it to move and talk, and interact. She was getting tired of having to pretend, having to imagine some way for Mr. Fuzzy to move and talk in her mind. She sighed again, then closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair, long, light brown hair hanging down over the edge of the chair, face tilted up to the sun, basking in its warmth. "I wish there was someone who could have tea parties with me, and make my animals talk and move, for real."
   After a second, she sat up, gazing at her bear, once again. "Angelica at school has an imaginary friend at school that only she sees... She told me he does wonderful things for her, trick her older brothers when they mess with her, move things around in her house, give her sweets that she can't reach when she isn't supposed to have them," she smiled softly, thinking deeply. "Maybe I should have one too, so he can do these things for me. Let's see," she drew out her words, and shut her eyes, thinking deeply. 
   Maybell sat for an hour like that, mumbling to herself every once and a while. She thought of everything-but the eyes. She couldn't figure out what eyes she wanted him to have, before shrugging, and nodding to herself. She wanted to continue her tea party, and play games with her knew friend. She thought to herself done, and opened her eyes, looking around expectantly... Only to see nothing new. She slumped, then looked back towards her house when she heard the back door squeak open.
   "Maybell," her Mother called, smiling sweetly. "Dinner time. Come inside with Mr. Fuzz, and wash up."
   "Yes, Mum," Maybell mumbled, standing and grabbing Mr. Fuzz by his paw, before slowly making her way back to her home, disappointment and betrayal rolling in her stomach.

Maybell sat in bed, the sun long gone, and the moon high in the darkened sky. Crickets chirped in the long grass that surrounded the property, and fireflies flitted in and out of the air, flashing softly. She ran her fingers over Mr. Fuzzy's fur, humming a small, light tune. Her gaze had sadness in it, watching her bear. She had hoped that it would work, she had trusted Angelica, but now? Now she wanted to call her lie out, and tell her she was a liar. 
   With a saddened sigh, she laid down, hugging Mr. Fuzzy closer. "I'm gonna go to school on Monday," she muttered. "And I'm gonna tell Angelica what a big liar she is. Are you going to help me, Mr. Fuzzy?"
   Again, no answer. 
   She sighed, then rolled over onto her side, facing her open window, and closed her eyes. She was tired, and wanted to do nothing but lay in bed. With a small, tired huff, Maybell started to drift off to sleep, unaware of the figure that stood by her bedside, to her back. The figure reached out, and took the stuffed bear, gently placing it on the white dresser beside the bed. He slowly sat in its place, resting his back to her's, and crossing his legs, resting his folded hands neatly in his lap. He smiled, then bowed his head, drips of blood falling down his cheeks from his eye sockets, eyelids shut, but sunken in, from the lack of an actual eye. He suddenly realized he might make a mess of the sheets, and possibly the floor. He didn't care too much for his clothing, seeing as it would be an easy fix, but he reached out for the bear nonetheless, and tugged the ribbon off of its neck. He wound the ribbon around the eyes, and temple, just behind the tops of his ears, and tied it off behind him. For now, it was a good substitute for a bandage.
   His head tilted, noticing the change in breathing from Maybell, which was now deep, even, and soft. He let a smile quirk the corners of his mouth up, then stood, slipping his tanned trench coat off, and hanging it on an empty peg on the bedroom door. He slipped his shoes off, placing them neatly to the side, then went back, and laid down. He placed his hands on his chest, lacing his fingers together, then waited.

Maybell felt the light of the sun in her eyes, and she winced at how bright it felt, quickly turning towards her door to escape it. She groaned lightly, and reached out for Mr. Fuzzy... only to find something else. She blinked her eyes open, surprised, and found herself holding onto the fabric of a floral patterned shirt. She glanced up, and found a very familiar man watching her. Well... "watching", for he had no eyes, only a white ribbon with two blotches of blood where his eyes should be. She blinked, slowly drawing her hand back to her side.
   "Good morning, Maybell," he murmured. "I am The Host."
   She nodded slowly, staring at him wearily. Everything was as it should be, how she imagined him to look, but... His eyes were unnerving. It made her heart beat a little faster, and made her want to hide under her blankets. The gold streak in his hair shinned in the sunlight as he sat up, still staring at her. He reached out slowly, making small shushing noises, and gently patted her head. "You and I are going to have so many tea parties. How about we have one now?"
   She perked up at the suggestion, sitting up, eyes wide. "Really?"
   He nodded, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I have been waiting all night, Little Maybell."
   She leaped out of bed, then ran around to the other side, where Mr. Fuzzy sat, smiling widely. "Let's go tell Mum! She can make us tea!"
   The Host stood, and slipped his shoes and coat on, before following the ecstatic girl down the hall to the kitchen, where her Mother stood, leaning against the counter, looking out the window tiredly. He looked closer, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, and the weary look that filled the beautiful brown.
   "Mum, Mum," Maybell rushed over, tugging on her shirt.
   Her Mother looked down, then smiled softly, resting her hand on her head gently. "Good Morning, Sunshine. How did you sleep?"
   "Good," she brushed the question aside, then pointed to Host, beaming. "Look, Mum! This is The Host! He's my new friend! Can we have some tea now? Please?"
   Her mother glanced up, up towards The Host's general direction, but her gaze went through him, and scanned the room. After a second, she looked back down at her daughter, and smiled. "He seems very nice. Why don't you and The Host go into the living room, and watch some cartoons while Mummy wakes up, and makes you tea? Hm?"
   "Okay, Mum," Maybell beamed, then strode out, waving for The Host to follow. She plopped down on the couch, hugging Mr. Fuzzy in her lap before clicking the TV on.
   The Host studied her mother for a second longer, before spinning on his heel, and striding out. His coat brushed against a stack of papers on the counter, and they fluttered to the floor. He stopped, and looked back, watching as she clicked her tongue, scowling as she scooped up the papers. "Damn draft," she muttered, snatching a stray paper that fluttered further than the rest. He quirked a brow at the papers. Overdue bills. Some newer, some older. And there were a lot. After Maybell's mother had finished picking up each paper, she stood, and sighed down at them, biting her lip. She rubbed her left eye with the heel of her hand, then set them back onto the counter, quickly starting the stove to make tea.
   "Maybell?" She called, grabbing the pot. "Why don't you come in here and help Mummy with making breakfast for us and your new friend?"
   "Okay," there was the pad of running feet on hardwood floor, then the breeze of Maybell running past The Host. She set Mr. Fuzzy on the counter, and smiled at The Host. "Do you like pancakes, Host?"
   He nodded, not really caring. He would like anything she would like-it was just the way it went. He looked back down at the stack of papers, and brushed a finger over the stack. A few papers slid away, and the one behind it had big, red, bold letters written across the top. He froze at that word. EVICTION. He quickly slid the papers back, then looked away. 
   "Host, do you like blueberries, or banana in your pancakes?"
   He glanced over, surprised to hear Maybell's mother ask. A small, playful smile sat on her lips as she mixed the pancake ingredients together.
   "Blueberries," he said slowly, fully aware that she wouldn't be able to hear him.
   "What did Host say, Sunshine?" She murmured.
   Maybell responded with a happy smile, holding the milk carton for her mother.
   Host watched them interact, standing with his hands held loosely at his sides. They seemed so much like a happy family, but those papers, and the lack of a Father, suggested otherwise. How strong of Maybell's mother to hide the worry from her, yet how irresponsible to not take care of the house payments... But still kind. He smiled softly, then ran a hand through his hair. How utterly kind.

Alright, I have so many other things to do (like the promised short story! DX I am working on it! Its almost done, I swear!), so I'll make this short and sweet. I kinda like this thought of Host, where he was an imaginary friend, and as Maybell grew, and became a teenager, her teenager-like thoughts kinda broke him, because he wanted her to remain a child, and play with him like she made him for. Anywho, I was wondering if you thought it would be a good idea for me to do an actual story of this. Is there anything you'd like changed? Anything I should keep, or alter? Please let me know! Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!