Writing Prompts I wrote for school

(4-20-16) Imaginary Friends

"Hey there, Timmy. Hi." I said, tickling his small chubby cheeks. He laughed. I think his mom thought he was laughing at the TV, because she couldn't see me. I don't anyone could, but this boy could. I brushed some red hair out of my face and pitched my bright nose, creating a speaking sound, making the child laugh harder.

A few years later, and I was still his friend. I remember on his seventh birthday, looking in the mirror with him before going out with his mother. Timmy never really had many friends so he didn't want a birthday party. He just wanted to go out with his mother to a movie. He was wearing his favorite t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I placed my long fingers on his shoulders. It had been a while sense I looked at myself in the mirror.

I had rainbow strips on my white sleeves, ending in white hands with tentacle-like, black fingers. The sleeves went up to a blue dress shirt with thin white lines and a classic black tie. My suspenders were orange, and held up yellow shorts with purple polka-dots. The edge of the shorts were met with my socks that were just like my sleeves. I had on big shoes that were the color of tar. My face was white and had a large, round, black nose, a big, red painted smile, and eyes surrounded by thick black lines surrounded by a light, soft blue, all somewhat hidden by my big, red, hair.

"Timmy, we have to go," shouted Timmy's mother.

"You ready?" I asked Timmy, scuffling his brown, matted hair.

"Yup!" he said with a cute smile on his face. I could tell he was upset that he didn't have friends to spend the day with, but he always kept his spirits high. We started down the stairs to the stout woman standing there. At one time she was beautiful and happy, with color in her face and life in her body, but sense Timmy's father left her face was pale with grey bags under her eyes. Her long hair seemed to fade and grew thinner by the day. Over-all, she was thin and lifeless, but plastered a smile on her face for her son. It was his birthday after-all.

But that was years ago. Six if I'm not mistaken, almost to the day. Now, I'm scared. I still hang-out with Timmy, we still joke around and play when no one is around, but no matter how much I beg for attention when we are not home, he denies it to me. It's odd how the life of an imaginary friend works. We only live about seven years, I'm lucky to have lived this long. We imaginary folk can typically see each other, but humans can only see their own friends.

Most of the time when Timmy and I walk the halls of school, I can see a few friends. Little dogs and twins of students, 'most half of them seemed sickly, pail, dying, and translucent. They had all turned black and white. They were in the late stages of fading. I knew I wouldn't see them the next day. Once you start disappearing, you're a goner.

No one can save you then, not even your friend. They've already forgotten you. The only way you can ever even have to hope of being saved is if you will enough power to enter their dreams. If it's nice enough, you might just live in a small corner of their mind. It's not a pleasant place to be, living in forgotten solitude, but at least its living.

"Timmy," I said as he was doing the dishes, "How come you don't talk to me anymore,"

"What are you talking about? I talk to you all the time, and you know I don't like being called Timmy. It's Tim," he said.

"Tim, who are you talking to?" called his mother.

"No one," he responded.

"See, that's what I'm talking about. You never talk to me when someone else is near. It seems like you don't want people to know I exist."

"I'll talk to you later, not while people are around." He didn't. That night, my fingers and toes started to turn black and white. I didn't notice because they are already black, but I started to see when a few stripes turned to a piercing black and the white on my sleeve grew blinding. The next day, in an attempt to brighten my future with the hope of life, I turned it to a sickly black. A black of no hope. A black of forgotten. A black of death.

We were both walking to his next class, and I tried to talk to him. "Timmy, what do you get when you cross a vampire with a teacher? LOTS OF BLOOD TESTS!" I expected a laugh, but was greeted with a stern expression.

"Oh, come on! That was funny! Laugh," no response.

"Please...laugh...for me..." nothing

"Timmy, talk to me! TALK!!! LAUGH!!! DO SOMETHING!!!" I pleaded.

"SHUT UP, JACOB!!!" he shouted. I was startled. He never used my real name. I always went by Jack. I wasn't the only one who was startled. The whole room seemed to be staring at him, and his face grew red as an apple. He ran off with tears running down his face. The next three weeks, I didn't get so much as a glance from Timmy. My hair started to turn a deep raven, along with the stripes on my socks. The corners of my smile seemed to rot as it slowly turned black.

I wasn't ready to die. I've lived a good life, but I feared death. While Timmy was asleep I whispered magic words into his ear. I saw myself at the doorway of his classroom. The door was closed and Timmy was at the front of the classroom, presenting a poorly done project while completely naked. I swirled my hands around and clothes, just his size, found their way into my hands. I walked through the door and up to Timmy.

"Haha!!! Timmy's mom had to bring him clothes!!! God, what a dork!!!" shouted a kid from the back of the class. Timmy smacked the clothes out of my hands. I faded out of the dream and back into Timmy's room next to his bed. A bright light started to shine from his head, the doorway to his mind where I may live. I started to fade to wind, being sucked into the hole.

I felt happy, like this would be my satisfying ending, but the moment my faded black touched the light, it disappeared. The magic was lost and the door closed, only letting out whispers saying "You're too late." I fell to my knees next to his bed, sobbing into my hands. The rest of me faded, the blue on my shirt turned to black and the white stayed.

The tips of my long fingers began to disappear and my sobs grew, standing my white hands with black ink and creating tear marks down my face. I looked up at the mirror, seeing my mangled reflection. The only thing left the same was my big red nose. I squeezed out a few hot, black tears as the red slipped to darkness. The moment the tip fell black, I felt nothing. Just numbness. That feeling when you have been hurt too bad to feel pain anymore.

I remember, the next morning, Timmy got on the bus, but I was too weak to follow. My bottom half was gone and my long fingers turned stubby. I left a trail of black ink everywhere I went. It came from my fingers, the bottom of my torso, and the ends of my hair. The small parts that weren't turning to ink, turned to wind, slipping away in shades of black.

I just lay, on Timmy's lawn as the bus drove down the street. I wanted to go with him. All I wanted was a friend. I wanted to keep him safe. I wanted to keep him happy. I wanted to see him grow up. I failed. I disappointed him. One final inky tear fell as the rest of me faded.

I woke up. I was sitting in front of a baby girl. No one ever said anything about this. I felt at my back pocket. It had a piece of paper. I opened it and it had a small profile on the little girl. Penelope, was her name. I looked to where the little girl's parents were. I swear to god, her father looked exactly like Timmy.