Optimistically Cynical: A Short Story Compilation- 1

IMAGINARY

THE BEDROOM

The room lays in complete darkness, save for the filtered moonlight, pouring through the window. Upon a bed, a child lies prostrate with her head buried in a pillow. Her eyes are wet with the deluge of tears that she rains down upon her bed linen and her backside aches from the punishment she had to endure.

She does not see the curtains blowing in the wind, or the window opening, seemingly of its own accord, as within the bedroom steps a warm silhouette, a feminine form, framed by the dancing drapes.

"I'm here child," a soft, lyrical voice plays upon the wind, before resting upon the child's ear.

"No, no, no!" the child buries her head in her pillow, as her shouts are muffled.

The woman sits down on the bed and gently touches the girl's shoulder, causing her muscles to tense from the sudden sensation, but she quickly recovers and launches herself into the open arms of her nighttime guest. They hold each other close as the sobbing child pours out her sorrows.

"There, there," the adult speaks softly, as she pets the girl's head. "I know it's hard, but I'm here for you."

The sobbing let's up some, as the girl is comforted by the warm embrace and, after several moments pass, she lifts her head and stares into the eyes of her comforter. "Father says-" she begins in a cracking voice, that does not allow her to continue.

"Now now," the woman soothes her. "I know all about it."

The girl eases herself from her tears and stares wide eyed. "You're a lie!" she suddenly shouts.

The woman is shocked by the sudden outburst. "Please child," she edges in with some delicacy. "You can't mean that."

The girl carries on. "Father says you're a lie and I'm a liar!" she carries on, her voice raising with each word uttered. "He says you're fake and I made you up!"

"Come dear," the woman coaxes the child who has created a rift between them. but the child turns back to her moist pillow.

"Go away! Go away!" the girl shouts, as she buries her head deeper and deeper.

The woman reaches out a hand toward the inconsolable child, but stops just before she makes contact. She does not want to incur anymore pain. "It's not your fault," she assures the little girl.

The child tries to keep out the voice, but she hears it anyway and with it a strange power overwhelms her and soothes her to sleep, while her guest disappears little by little, leaving the way she had come in.

THE DEN

The fire dances about in the fireplace while a man sits in a chair facing it, a drink in his hand. He holds it merely as a comfort, as he has not once, taken a drink. His empty hand throbs, a reminder of the deed he so desperately wishes to forget. He stares into the flames as he tries to lose himself in thought.

All at once, the French doors off to the side burst open and a stiff wind blows through the room, extinguishing the flame, bathing the room in shadow.

The man leaps from his chair and turns about, dropping his drink in the process. Before him stands a strange luminescent woman, who possesses a muted light. She drifts through the open portal and walks across the room, stopping before the dark fireplace.

She glares at the occupant with ice blue eyes. "You had to interfere, didn't you?" she speaks.

The man is speechless.

"What harm was there in her having a supposed imaginary friend?" she demands.

"You mean, you..." the man's question hangs in the air as the rest of his words fall in her presence.

"I? I am the figment, aren't I?" the woman challenges. "I'm the one your daughter lied about, didn't she? Yet, now you see me, standing here."

"What are you?" the man is barely able to choke out.

"Too long a story to go into," the woman waves off the enquiry.

"Why are you here, now?" the man asks with a diminutive voice.

"Because you have forced my hand," the woman launches into an explanation. "I was content playing simple games, with a simple girl, hiding my presence from the rest of the world. Allowing people like you, to have your neat little reality, but this was not enough for you, was it?"

"You couldn't let your daughter have her own silly little fantasy," she carries on. "But I simply cannot allow people like you, who insist that everyone see reality as they do, hurt the dreamers of this world. So, I stand before you and now, even you cannot deny my existence."

The man swallows hard.

"I even sat idly by as you punished her, I knew she could bare it," the woman proceeds. "But your words hurt her far greater than your hand ever could. You labeled her a liar and it weighs heavily upon her. She simply cannot accept her father calling her a liar."

"As such, she will refute anything that she knows will displease you," she rails on. "No matter how much she believes it to be true. So I ask you, am I fake? Am I the figment of a little girl's overworked imagination?"

There is a long, awkward pause. "No," the man finally manages.

"No?!" the woman erupts before adopting a more tranquil tone. "Now you are the liar."

The man is speechless, but then there's nothing left to say. Finally he swallows. "What will you do?" he asks, fearing the answer.

"I?" The woman says as she turns to him. "I, will do nothing. You, have already done enough damage." With these words her visage wavers before dissipating.

The room is now empty, save for the man who stands completely in awe of what had transpired and only half believing what he witnessed.

He looks to the stairs, he knows what he has to do, but he doesn't know how. Slowly, he makes his way to the upper floor and stops in front of a bedroom door. He knocks. There's no response. He knocks again while he opens the door.

"Suzy, baby," he calls to the dimly lit room.

"Daddy?" comes an uncertain voice from within.

The man draws near and beholds his daughter, sitting on the bed. He sits down beside her and places his arm around her and she gives him a big hug.

"Daddy," she says as the tears flow anew.

"It's okay baby," he assures her. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have forced my opinion on you. If you want to have an imaginary friend, well, that's just fine with me."

"You mean it?" the girl asks as she perks up.

"I do baby cakes," he returns.

"Oh, daddy!" the girl bursts forth as she throws her arms around his neck and gives him a squeeze, while a glint catches her eye, an image of a woman within the glass of her window, who is waving and smiling. She smiles back.

"Now," her father says. "It's time for you to go to bed."

They bid each other goodnight and he leaves the room. As he starts down the stairs a voice entered his ears. "Good. Now don't do it again."

He nods and carries on his way.

His world had been shaken this night and he needs to rearrange it. So, he cleans up the broken glass and scrubs the drink from the carpet. After which, he sits himself down, folds his hands and leans forward. He has a lot of thinking to do.