Imaginary Friend - By: Jen Reiman


Imaginary Friend
By: Jen Reiman

She was not a young girl, no longer a child, but she held on to that demeanor. She still portrayed innocence dressed in black; the naivety deep inside. It bubbled forth only when she was completely and entirely alone, when there was only her and the bare walls she called home. At least they thought she was alone, but that was never the case. Hour upon hour she sat in that room on the hard wooden floor, dressed in flowing black dresses, and held whispered conversation with herself. They thought she was possessed, but she knew better.

"They don't believe in you," she sighed heavily, lips drawing down in a pout. "They think I'm crazy."

"Nonsense," a pale, long-fingered hand reached out and rested upon her shoulder from behind.

"You're perfectly sane to me," spoke a hauntingly enchanting voice.

A gentle child's smile curved the corners of her lips as she glanced over her shoulder at a black-hooded figure. "You always say that."

"And it always makes you smile." She could hear the smile in her companion's voice, and this delighted her. She had no other friends and didn't need them.

"That's just because itís You." she replied, suppressing a giggle.

Her companions other arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. With another heavy sigh she rested her head upon her companion's shoulder.

"Why have I never seen your face?" She asked somberly, as if she had yet to hear a reason that pleased her.

"Because this is all you have given me." Her companion replied. His voice was deep and musical, yet she could not be sure that he was in fact male only based on a voice. She tilted her head so that she could stare into the black abyss that was her hooded friend's face.

"You're nothing under there, I bet. You're nothing but a black cloak and a figment of my imagination." She stated blandly, almost sourly, as if she resented such an idea.

"I am whatever you want me to be." he replied in a seductive croon.

Her eyes, which would've been locked on his had she been able to see them, became glassy and distant. She straightened and turned to face him, her dress rustling against the wooden floor. His hand's settled on her waist as she reached up to push his hood back. She stopped with her fingers barely brushing the soft cloth of his hood, and inhaled sharply as blood danced violently through her veins.

"You've waited such a long time to know; are you certain you wish to know now?" He inquired curiously.

She held her fingers there, quivering above the cloth. Just a slight touch and she could finally see the face of her best friend.

"No." She sighed heavily, dropping her arms to her lap and turning her gaze down towards her hands. There wasn't enough curiosity in her heart to know his face.

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About the Author

-Jen Reiman

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