Just Go Away

Reality has been particularly insistent lately.  My time to write and work out ideas has been at a minimum.  Reddit has been a periodic escape and source for stories.  This is one writing prompt that caught my eye and sparked a creative fire.

I had been given many pieces of advice. Different methods and techniques for taking care of my problem. No two of them the same, but many of them similar. Simple words for an issue that was anything but simple. Not a single one of them actually worth my time to try them. Partially because none of those offering advice had truly had the experiences I had. None of them had been experiencing my difficulties for as long as I had, despite each of them pretending to be “experts.”

It all started when I was quite young. My parents both came from money. They were constantly going to charity events, visiting other towns and countries for holiday. I saw my nannies and tutors more than my parents. It was only during my late teen years that I learned the term “trophy child” and how well it applied to me. I had everything a kid could want, except other kids to play with. I had every expensive toy and all of the latest electronic equipment. It was all mine. I didn't have anyone to share any of it with, even if I wanted to.

Then one day Edward appeared. Not Eddie or Ed. It was always to be Edward. He would help me decide what to play with in the mornings after breakfast and early lessons. The two of us would high-five when achieving an accomplishment in one of my video games. We ohhed and ahhhed when we found my father's hidden stash of naked women magazines. Edward helped me fill the silence of the large, empty house when my parents were away and I had outgrown the need for nannies. He knew all my secrets and I had all of his stored away. We were inseparable. He was my best friend and the only person that would listen to me.

He was the only kid I knew from the day he appeared until I was in my late teens. I was at home working on a project with my science tutor when the call came in. My parents were returning from a ski trip in Aspen. A freak weather front knocked their plane out of the sky. I was now a very rich orphan.

Edward was standing behind my chair, supporting me during their funeral. He helped me fill the silence of the He sat patiently in the waiting room while I attended a seemingly endless string of appointments with counselors trying to help me. He comforted me as I hurled endlessly in the toilet after getting into my parents' liquor cabinet. Edward and I discussed it first and we both realized they couldn't punish me for breaking their rules any more.

The two of us kept each other going until I had to start interacting with other people in the outside world. I was nearly 25 before I decided to seek out more people. My tutors had all completed their contracts. The nannies were long gone. Without my parents, there was only Edward and me. Two people were not enough to make a life.

I hit a few nightclubs. I went to a number of youth centers. Indoor rock climbing, miniature golfing, movie release parties. Over time, I started to form a core group of friends. Some of them had known each other their entire lives, but this was all new to me. Edward had started to tell me that this was a mistake. With more than one person, he was correct. For the most part, socializing had improved my life.

There was only one thing I had to do. It was finally time. I had to remove Edward from my life. With friends now, they were doing all of the things that Edward used to do with me. He no longer had a role. It was now the time to take everyone's advice, even if I had to choose my own method to do it.

I stood up and looked Edward right in the eyes. In my strongest voice I said these simple words to him, “You don't exist. Go away.”

With that, Edward was a memory. Just a past figment of my imagination.

Who was your childhood imaginary friend?  Did they just fade out one day or were you forced to banish them?

Challenge Accepted

A few days ago I posted a writing challenge on Twitter.  Being a fair-minded person, I felt I couldn't make a challenge without undergoing it myself.  Here is my simple story.  The words from my game with a friend are highlighted.

It was the greatest day of the solar cycle. The entire village was celebrating. The thumps of dancing feet mingled with the pounding of ceremonial drums. Musicians blew into their flutes and strummed their strings in a joyous ballad that lifted the hearts and raised the spirits of everyone around the large campfire. Hunters marked their chests and faces with bold colors drawn in intricate designs. All of this was to call forth the ancient gods to judge us and see if we were worthy of continued existence. If we were deemed unworthy, how quickly or extended our deaths would be depended on the god that decided we were no longer worth their attentions.

The bleating of goats was silenced as they were sacrificed on the altars of each of the gods. The village's shaman entered the light cast by the ceremonial fire. The glow from the flames reaching deep into her hood only when she drank from her tea. Ceremony and tradition demanded a brew that was made from haws that she alone could harvest and dice fine enough for this one night. The musicians reached their envoi as the village chief greeted the shaman to the ceremony. As the shaman passed the half full cup to the chief, her hands appeared to shrink to the size of a baby's as they nestled inside his large palms.

The shaman stepped up to each altar and offered a prayer to each god separately. She asked the mother god whose ova spawned us and the stars above for continuing new lives to be born from the women of the tribe and the species of the animals we hunted. She asked that our heavenly protector heft his axe above us in order to protect us from those that would harm us. Her request to the god within the mountain below us was simple. She requested that he keep his sloping grades gentle enough for our hunters to remain surefooted and his soils fertile enough for the trees in which we lived to continue to grow.

The final altar was for the god we all respected as well as feared. It was a god that we all wished to never meet, but were also aware of how necessary his presence was. She prayed to the god of death. She asked that he keep his scale balanced. She asked that he not let it tilt too far in his favor and kill us all. She also requested that he not let the balance go too far the other way. Too little death would put a drain on the resources around us and force the herds we relied on for food to move to more plentiful feeding grounds.

Finished with her pleas and requests, the shaman returned to the chief to collect her emptied cup. Only time would indicate whether or not she had been heard. Only when the sun once again rested on the tip of the correct peak four seasons form now would we know if this ceremony had achieved its goals.

Most of these words were easy enough to incorporate into a story.  I will admit that I had to look a couple of them up in order to know how to fold them into the narrative.  Ultimately I look on this as a way to expand both my vocabulary and flex a few more creative muscles.

If you happen to hear about or know of any other writing challenges, please let everyone know in the comments or drop me a note on Twitter.