Scary Stories: Continued

12

They laughed and shrugged when I talked about us. Our dolls and our dresses, our tea and cake parties, our strolls in the sun, our toys and our parents.

They said I was childish to still have imaginary friends. I cried and said I didn't want to lose them.

But one by one I did. Little by little, they just started getting buried and forgotten under the struggles of growing up, the tedium of the days. Bit by bit, it's almost like they'd vanish.

I'm the last one left, Emily.

Please don't forget me, Emily.

I'm your best friend, Emily.

Pass me the bread knife, Emily.