Celeste and I, undoubtedly, fell into the category of the peculiar ones within our respective families. While most kids our age were immersed in the world of video games, we sought solace in the outdoors, exploring forgotten corners or weaving intricate tales. Storytelling became one of our cherished pastimes.
That evening, our tale revolved around a peculiar character named Jerry, a talking potato. It was a nonsensical narrative, lacking coherence, yet that very absurdity evoked laughter from deep within me. Celeste possessed a talent for concocting stories that tickled the funny bone, although occasionally she ventured into deeper, more somber territories, delving into themes of loss and mortality. Nevertheless, I knew she did so with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, always eager to experiment with new narrative styles. We shared those moments when we weren't spinning tales, wandering by the waterfront or navigating the labyrinthine streets of our city. We seldom ventured alone, for we had grown as close as siblings, if I may dare to say so.
"And thus, Jerry the potato transformed into multiple Jerrys upon entering the fry cutter," Celeste concluded with a chuckle.
Both of us erupted into laughter, relishing the absurdity of her creation. It was the most preposterous thing I had ever heard, but that was precisely Celeste's intention—to bring joy to others.
"Are you ready for school, Zeke?" she asked.
"No, are you?" I retorted.
"Always prepared," she replied, her smile radiant as ever.
"Of course," I scoffed playfully. "But it's getting rather late, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I'll be heading to bed soon," Celeste agreed.
Normally, when we spent nights at each other's houses, we embarked on all-night adventures. However, since the next day marked the beginning of eighth grade and we were video chatting, we decided to retire early.
"Goodnight, Zeke," she bid me.
"Wait," I interjected suddenly. "Do you want to hang out after school tomorrow?"
"Only if we visit our customary haunt," Celeste responded.
We both burst into laughter, and I readily agreed.
"Sleep well, best friend!" Celeste exclaimed. "I shall sing your praises to all whom I encounter."
I chuckled. "I have no doubt you will," I replied in a tone laced with sarcasm.
"Love you, bestie!" she uttered, fatigue evident in her voice.
"Love you, most," I replied.
After exchanging our farewells, we hung up the call, each venturing into the realm of dreams.
For Celeste and me, life was an endless carousel of amusement and whimsy. Every endeavor, no matter how trivial, was imbued with the spirit of joy and playfulness.
YOU ARE READING
Memories
Teen Fiction----- This book series was written by someone who was struggling mentally in high school. Things will be cringey and may not make sense. Harsh topics will be brought up. My only hope is that you have fun if you choose to read. Thank you. Thank you t...
