Antoine's Curious Collection of Arbitrary Short Stories

The Boy with A Snake Skin

He's my friend; we play every day after school. We we're once enemies, but we're okay now. He likes to play soccer, we played that every day. We're good friends, yet I wonder why people always want us to be apart. They're mean, and I hate them. They don't understand anything, do they?

Why do they hate him anyway? Is it because of his skin? It's not normal I know, but I like it. I like everything about him. He's my only friend and I feel sorry for what happened to him. I can't just leave him, can I? After all, he's been with me since forever, how could I just leave him behind? He needs me. He said that I'm the only one that can understand and accept him. I hate people, they're so mean.

We always eat lunch together; he likes the food my mom made me so I always give him mine. He's so happy and jumpy for that. I like seeing him happy. We're always together, even when go and leave school. He loves to hang out at our house, he said that our house is warm, especially my room. It's our spot. We played games and talk about aliens and heroes there. He loves to play the villain and I always let him win. He feels bad for them; they are hated and have no one on their side so he chooses them. I feel bad for him; villains always lose, so I let him win.

He sometimes sleeps over in my room, even without my mom's permission. He likes to sneak in and snuggle in the warmth of my blankets. I let him, he's always cold. He said that it's cold in his place, skimpy, dark and lonely. I feel bad for him.

We we're once enemies because he's cold and he said that he hates brightness that I have. He hate it so much that he said that he's going to make it brighter; so bright that any person that will come near me will be burn with that light. So he picks up a bunch of matches, starts a fire and it burns himself.

It was in the past, we've compromised with each other and made friends.

"Son? I heard you talking with someone again, can I come in," my Mom knocks.

"Sure" I said.

She gives me a warm and worried smile. "Is your friend here again?" She asked.

I nodded.

"Can you tell him to go home," she said in a soft tone.

"It's cold in his place" I back up.

She smiled and wipes a tear that fell from her eyes. "He's not real," she muttered in pain.

"He is!"

"NO! Jonathan, he's not, he was imaginary, and you have to let him go."

"He's real!"

"Baby, he's not, he was but now, he's not real. He's gone and it's not your fault. He started the fire and it's not your fault, okay? It's not your fault. Let him go, let go of guilt."

"But he's my friend."