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*NEW NOVEL* “Imaginary Friends” Preview Prologue + Chapter 1
PROLOGUE
The World at the Bottom of the Well
If there is such a thing as a happy ending, then the tale of Adrian Carter and Easton West concluded in the happiest way it could: with both men laying parallel on a hill underneath a cherry tree, their hands interlocked as they finally felt each other as they’d so longed for ever since Adrian had moved into Easton’s home that fateful day twenty-two years ago. There was no breeze to ruffle their hair. No sky to stare aimlessly into. No sound but the steady sloshing of water. This was a world ripped apart.
Now no one is quite sure how exactly this miraculous phenomenon came to be, and no one is quite certain whether it was real in the first place or if it was just the imagination of two young boys that never aged out of existence, but it’s neither important how it came to be nor why, as the experience that drove these two insatiable souls together was a heartbeat between truth and fiction. One could call it fate; another may call it a flaw in the fabric of reality itself. But to say they were star-crossed would be a drastic understatement, as they were crossed in much greater ways than that of just stars. For there was never such a tale of unjust heartbreak in the way of these two men—or at least not one yet known.
As they lay there in the grey in-between, the color fading quickly from their shimmering cheeks, fingers laced together for the first and last time, they were already starting to erase from the memories of everyone they had ever loved, save one. There would never be a soul alive that would utter either name nor recall a single trait about them. No one would tell the story of the two men who ripped apart the universe for each other just to break themselves the second they made contact. But you, my friend, will carry them with you and tell the unfathomable tale of the imaginary friends who left their lives to die together in the world at the bottom of the well.
ACT I: A STRANGE COEXISTENCE
CHAPTER ONE
Easton Makes a Friend
September 4th, 1999
Our story begins in a wheat field just half a mile away from the West House and four miles out of the late Urbina, Oklahoma. Urbina was only three minutes from Altus and was such a minuscule town that many would’ve forgotten it even existed if not for the fact it was home to Oklahoma’s smallest university. But there was one other unique feature about Urbina that made it stand out and that was that it got twice as much rain per year as the rest of the state. How was this possible, you ask? All in good time. But this was a major clue to the event that was about to transpire for five-year-old Easton, who was playing in the wheat field by himself when he heard a small crunching noise. He did not know what it was, but his older brother, Leon, had warned him to steer clear of any animals he might find out there. Easton tensed, biting his lip in quiet fear. He had only just grasped the concept of death a month ago when the neon tetras his mother had bought him died from overfeeding and the thought of leaving the world the way that his fish had was mighty terrifying. The noise seemed to be drawing closer to him, but only in saunter footsteps. Easton immediately relaxed, as it was probably just Leon come to fetch him. Imagine his surprise when he found another boy, black hair, brown skin, and wide red eyes, standing there blankly in an off-kilter pair of overalls.
“Hi,” said the boy. “Who are you?”
Easton was taken aback. Where had this boy come from? There wasn’t another house around for miles. “I’m Easton,” he replied. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Adrian,” said the boy proudly. “I just moved here from Kentucky.”
“Where’s that?”
“I dunno.”
“Oh. Well, do you wanna play with me?”
“What’re you playing?”
“I’m gathering up all the roly-polies I can find. You can do it too.”
“What’re we gonna do with ‘em?”
“Put them in a jar to make sure they don’t die.”
“Are we gonna share the jar?”
“We can.”
“Okay. I’ll play.”
And as simple as that, Easton and Adrian became friends. Young children are often that way. They spent the next thirty minutes gathering up roly-polies and pocketing them before heading off to find a jar to put them in. They found two in the old black barn that bordered the woods around the West estate. After they’d finished encapsulating the roly-polies and Easton had shown Adrian how to poke holes in the lid, the two young boys began climbing hay barrels and jumping off them, pretending to be pterodactyls on the hunt for a meal. Not realizing it was beginning to rain, they did this until Easton heard his brother call him home.
“I gotta go,” he said to his new friend. “It’s dinnertime.”
Adrian scratched his forehead. “Oh. Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Easton toddled off back to his house where Leon and his mother were waiting for him on the front porch. The young boy shook the water out of his hair while his brother handed him a plate. The West family sat on the porch and ate together, watching as the rain grew from a drizzle to a storm. Easton was going to tell them about the new friend he’d made who was moving somewhere nearby, but they both looked very tired and neither seemed apt to converse at the present, so he didn’t bother. Eventually, Leon rolled their mother back inside when the storm became too great and Easton followed, hoping that Adrian had made it home safely before switching on the TV and finishing dinner with his family in the living room. Forty-seven minutes later, Leon helped their mother into bed. She turned on her side after kissing them both good night. Easton walked upstairs to brush his teeth. When he got out of the bathroom he walked past the door to the attic. Nearly everything in their large farmhouse was old and creaky, so it racked up a fair number of unsettling feelings within Easton when he walked by it. He’d once had a nightmare about going into the attic, only for the floor to give way and for him to fall into the open mouth of a hideous monster that looked like a fuzzy shark. Once he’d scurried away and shut the door to his room, Easton got ready for story time.
Or at least he intended to. For when he hurriedly closed himself into the second bedroom at the end of the hall, Easton realized that he wasn’t alone. Sitting on the floor, looking just as perplexed as he was, was his new friend Adrian.
“What’re you doing in my room?” both boys asked at the same time.
#
March 28th, 2010
Roughly ten years later, Easton was resting high on a branch, hidden within the lilac petals of the old cherry tree in the backyard. His eyes were transfixed on the book in his hand, A Separate Peace. Beside him, on a slightly lower branch, Adrian hung upside down, earbuds in, glued to his phone. After reaching the end of a paragraph, Easton quietly rested the book upon his lap and chewed his lip for a moment.
“Adrian,” he said. When there was no response, Easton waved his hand wildly to grab his friend’s attention. “Adrian!”
Adrian took out the left earbud and curled his head upwards. “What?”
“Do you think we’re like the characters in this book? Phineas and Gene?”
“Depends. Which one am I?”
“I think that’s obvious.”
“Well I’m not dead, so I’d say no.”
“Fair enough.”
“Actually, I think we’re more like the characters in this show I’m watching.”
“What show?”
“Come down and watch.”
Easton placed his book back with the other classics he had tightly sealed in Ziploc bags inside the hollow of the cherry tree. He carefully clambered onto Adrian’s branch and joined him upside down.
“I don’t get how you can stay like this,” he said. “Doesn’t all the blood rush to your head?”
“Nope,” replied Adrian, his face beet red. “Okay, check this out. I put the captions on. It’s called Pushing Daisies. Look at this, it’s beautiful. Fantastic cinematography and dialogue. Also, Lee Pace and Kristin Chenowith.”
“What, is this a musical?”
“Sometimes. I guess maybe you should probably listen to it. Here, I’ll take my earbuds out.”
“Nah, you don’t gotta do that. I’ll just watch it when Leon gets home.”
“Locked you out again, huh?”
“Sometimes I think he does it on purpose.”
“Leon wouldn’t do that.”
“I know. It just feels like it is all. He’s so busy working all the time and I’m not. I just kinda feel like he’s punishing me, and I know he isn’t, so maybe I feel like I need to be punished for being so useless.”
“Well, you are pretty useless.”
“Thanks, A.D.”
“No, but seriously—here let me pause this.” Adrian turned off his phone, then rocked his body back and forth like a pendulum before hopping upright onto the branch. Easton did the same, but it took him longer as he was not as physically fit as his friend. Once they were both up, Adrian continued, “Seriously, you put so much weight on yourself for things you don’t have control over. It’s been bummin’ me out seeing you like this. You used to be so carefree.”
“No, that was you,” Easton countered.
“And you. Listen, you can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened. If you keep doing that, there’s gonna be nothing left of you but self-loathing and ash. You’re like a fire that won’t let himself blaze because he’s too afraid of seeing the world burn. Well, guess what buddy: since the day it began, the world’s been burning and nothing yet has stopped it turning.”
Easton gave a nod. “I like that. That little rhyming thing you did there. That was good.”
Adrian rolled his eyes. “Ugh. If you’re not going to listen to me, I’m just gonna go back to watching my show.” He positioned himself to flip down again, but Easton placed a hand next to his knee to stop him.
“No, I’ll listen.” Easton looked at his friend with apologetic eyes. “I promise. I’m sorry.”
“Good, because I only ever get this deep with you and if you let it go to waste, I might not talk to you for the next week.”
“I’m calling your bluff.”
“Ha! You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“Correction: I do know you. I know you better than your own family, and I also know more of what you’re capable of than even you do. You’d get lonely on the second day and chase me down after soccer practice to suggest we get make up churros. I could probably even time it down to the minute.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes. “You think you know everything about me—”
“I’ve also seen your penis.”
“Alright! I’m taking the emergency exit out of this conversation now. Goodbye.”
The taller boy jumped from the tree and landed effortlessly on the grass below. Easton chuckled and climbed down, jogging up to his friend and swinging around in front of him, a big goofy grin on his face. “I’m only teasing, ya dumbass.”
Adrian grinned back. “Fuck you. Let’s go get some churros.”
#
When the boys returned, churros in hand, Leon’s truck was parked on the gravel driveway. It was already dark and, according to Easton’s watch, an hour later than his brother should have been back.
“Leon’s home,” Easton muttered. “I bet he was with Kathy again…”
“Why do you hate her so much?” Adrian asked. “She’s nice.”
The former rolled his eyes. “Sure, maybe in your world she is, but not when she’s around Leon. Worst. Girlfriend. Ever.”
“Oh, speaking of girlfriends, did I tell you Lisa Winter asked me out today?”
“Lisa Winter? Really? Are you guys gonna get pinned?”
“Ah, shut up. No, but she’s nice. Cute.”
“Yeah, well, during fourth period I saw Lisa pass a love note to Frank Dane like a little girl. She’d drawn hearts all over it.”
“Frank Dane? I wonder what bizarre events must’ve occurred to make that attraction happen.”
“Dunno. So, are you gonna go steady with her?”
“Are you trying to get me to sing Bye Bye Birdie?”
“Maybe.”
“Look, I haven’t decided yet. I just don’t know her too well.”
Easton frowned. “Let’s go inside.”
Adrian cocked his head. “What’s wrong, Easty?”
“Nothing. You comin’?”
“Nah. I’ll stay out here for a while. Might go for a run.”
“See ya then.”
“Wanna watch Pushing Daisies when I get back? I’m telling you, you’ll like it.”
“Okay.”
Easton scarfed down the rest of his churro as he walked up the steps of his farmhouse and went inside. He took off his shoes and jacket. From the kitchen he could hear Leon frying something delicious smelling, so he ventured towards the sizzling. He sat down at the dining room table and sighed.
“Oh, hey,” Leon said, turning to Easton from the stove. “I didn’t hear you come in. Is Adrian with you?”
Easton rested his chin on the table. “No, he went for a run.”
“Oh. Well, I hope he comes home soon. There’s supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight and I don’t want his dad to worry.”
“He’ll be fine. He’s not allowed to die without my permission.”
“Ha. I guess if you put it that way. Want some sausage?”
Easton narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Are you taunting me?”
“Only if you think I am.”
“How was Kathy’s?” Easton redirected.
Leon took the pan off the stove and dumped the sausage and grease onto a napkinned plate. “What makes you think I went to Kathy’s?”
“Because you were an hour late and you have blue lipstick on your neck.”
“Are you serious?” Leon stepped away and examined his reflection on the microwave. “What? No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, but I got my answer.” Easton stood up, took a fork from the utensils drawer, and snagged himself a strip of fried sausage while his older brother was fixing his collar. “I’m gonna go to my room.” Easton paused. “Unless you need my help with anything?”
Leon shook his head. “I’ve got it all handled. I’m just going to make sure Keanu Reeves is inside before the rain hits. Thanks though.”
“No problem,” Easton replied hollowly, before heading out of the kitchen. “Night, Leon.”
“Night, Easton.”
Deflating with every step, Easton walked upstairs and through the attic door to his room. Once inside, he slipped out of the rest of his clothes and into a white shirt and pair of boxers. The red-haired boy flopped onto his bed and started slowly biting away at the sausage, gazing blankly at the ceiling as his thoughts devoured him. Eventually, rain started to patter down on the round window next to him, sloshing against the pane so that it muddied his view of the outside. He closed the curtains, curled atop his covers, sighed again, and stared at the hairs on his arm before closing his eyes.
Thirty minutes later, Easton heard the door open and close. He looked up to see a dripping Adrian shaking his hair out, soaked to the bone. He was beaming. Easton couldn’t help but give a short nostril laugh before rolling over to the other side. A flash of light came through the translucent curtains, followed by a great roll of thunder. Adrian sat on his bed across the room, wringing out his clothes. Easton knew this without even looking.
“God, I love racing in the rain,” Adrian said.
“You’re like that dog,” Easton muttered back.
“What’s that?” Adrian asked, standing up and walking to him.
“It’s a book. The Art of Racing in the Rain.”
“Okay, but I didn’t hear the first part.”
“Put your hearing aid in then.”
Adrian frowned. “Jeez, what’s your problem? You got a stick up your ass or something?”
Easton rolled back over and gave Adrian a stern face. “You’re gonna warp the floors if you don’t put down a towel.”
“What’s it to you?”
“It isn’t. Just…whatever.” He promptly rolled back over again.
“Easty, come on.” When Easton didn’t respond, Adrian walked over to the bathroom by his bed and took out a towel. He wiped up all the water, changed into fresh clothes, then returned to his friend. “There, it’s all clean, okay? Come on, just talk to me. You’re acting like a hormonal fifteen-year-old.”
“Most indubitably,” Easton replied, then turned over once again to find Adrian on the ground, pouting up at him. “No, don’t…I want to be mad right now…”
“You don’t want me to do dis?” Adrian started rolling back and forth. “You don’t want to do da cute kitty face?”
“God, you are so weird!” Easton laughed. He threw a pillow at his friend but missed. “Just let me be a butt, ya stupid ass!”
“ ‘Fraid not. In fact…” Adrian got up and took out his phone. He connected it to the aux cable next to his stereo and started shuffling through his music library to find the song.
“Don’t you dare—” Easton attempted to object, but the song had started, and he couldn’t help but slap himself in the forehead. “Goddammit A.D.”
Adrian started singing, followed by Easton.
“Istanbul was Constantinople—”
“Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople—”
“Been a long time gone, Oh Constantinople—”
“Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night!”
And, thus they began to dance their usual routine to this song—Adrian holding his phone tightly in his hand as they did so—for there is not a person alive with a soul that doesn’t have some sort of dance associated with “Istanbul” by They Might Be Giants. It was all rather silly and embarrassing, but who cares about appearances when you’re with the person you love? If you can’t stand in a crowd with your best friend and be absolute fools together, then it certainly isn’t meant to be. And while Easton and Adrian were meant to be (if there was ever such an example of that), that didn’t mean that these two could stand in a crowd together, however much they wanted to.
But as they sat on the floor, hands almost touching, watching Pushing Daisies on Adrian’s laptop while the outside world roared, Easton felt a bleeding mix of bliss and despair, unsure of what to say to Adrian when the time finally came, while Adrian had long since come to the conclusion that the words he wanted to tell Easton were so painstakingly obviously, they were better left unsaid. Even if those three words had been used to death by society, they still held importance to them. And though they knew each other in and out, both boys were afraid to open that door, for fear of the pain it would bring in a situation as hopeless as their own.
#
September 4th, 1999
Five-year-old Easton ran from his room and found Leon sitting in the armchair downstairs. He tugged on his brother’s shoulder, who looked down at him with sleepy eyes.
“I’ll be upstairs in a second,” he said.
“There’s a boy in my room!” Easton replied.
“What?” Leon repeated, this time with confusion.
“There’s a boy in my room!” Easton said again. “Come look!”
He grabbed his brother’s hand and led him upstairs in a hurry. Leon was quite bewildered by this statement until he opened the door to his younger brother’s bedroom. Easton gestured to Adrian, who was looking quite perplexed as well. However, once the door was open and Leon saw where Easton was indicating, he understood immediately. For what he saw before him was not another young boy with black hair, brown skin, and red eyes, but empty space.
“Oh,” he said. “You’ve made an imaginary friend.”
“Huh?” said young Easton. “But he’s right there!”
“Who’re you talking to?” asked Adrian, who could not see Leon either.
Easton looked from his brother to the boy he’d just befriended, then from the boy he’d just befriend to his brother and swallowed. He could not fathom just yet what was going on, though he would in time. And that was the exact moment, my friend, that began the strange coexistence of Easton West and Adrian Carter.
Author: @besttardywrites (Best Tardy)
But with real love, the second that emotion hits your veins it’s like an extra heartbeat that takes you out of existence for a moment, only to return to an altered world. Everything feels different with love, yet it’s does not feel like sole happiness. It feels like euphoria and misery; elation and discouragement; hope and despair.
Best Tardy, “Imaginary Friends”
“Imaginary Friends” Preview Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Adrian’s World
September 4th, 1999
On that same day, before the two boys met, Adrian Carter was sitting in the front of his dad’s car, running his hand back and forth across the window, increasingly bored and in desperate need of a stretch. To compensate for the long drive, his dad had let him pick the music, but eventually switched to NPR when he could no longer take listening to Smash Mouth’s “Astro Lounge” for the collective 48th time. With his one silver lining revoked, Adrian took it upon himself to count every cow they passed, as this was both mildly entertaining and clearly something the world needed. By late afternoon, when they’d arrived at the old farmhouse Mr. Carter had purchased, he’d counted at least seventeen, but might’ve missed a few while he was rolling his head back in sheer road trip agony. Adrian was all too eager to step out of the car and race around in the fresh air, but before he could get too far, his dad grabbed him around the waist and propped him up on his shoulders.
“Are you excited?” Mr. Carter said. “This is our new house!”
He gestured to the vast farmhouse in front of them. It was tall and decaying in some areas, but mostly alright, and had a wide front porch protected by a glass screen. With no fence, Adrian could spot a large barren tree in the backyard, as well as a peeling white barn just north of that. Past the barn was a forest with a wheat field to its right. Adrian couldn’t think of the words to answer his dad, so he just responded with, “It’s old.”
“That’s why we’re gonna fix it up!” Mr. Carter set his son down. “Why don’t we take a little break and eat something before we unpack the essentials?”
“I want pastrami.”
“We have turkey.”
“Bleh.”
“Oh, come on, you like turkey. That’s all you used to eat.”
“But now I don’t like it.”
“My finnicky son. What your mother would’ve thought of you, I’d like to know. Okay, here’s my compromise: you eat the turkey now and I’ll take us out for dinner later. Deal?”
“Burger King.”
“Burger King again? But we’ve eaten at Burger King twice in the past two days!”
“I’ll eat the turkey if we go to Burger King.”
“Fine. Shake on it.”
Mr. Carter rubbed his palm across his cheek before extending his hand to his son. Adrian did the same and shook it. This was the Carters’ alternative to spitting on their hands to make a deal. Once that was settled, they both gave huge stretches and ate the turkey sandwiches from the cooler in the backseat. Both father and son sitting atop their white Ford Taurus, Adrian thought he saw something rustle in the wheat field but figured it might just be his overactive imagination at play again. Of course, we know who exactly was in that wheat field, but in his five-year-old brain, Adrian wagered that it could also have been a ghost or a spirit haunting the land. And while most children would be frightened stiff by that notion, Adrian Carter was not.
As he was helping his dad by dragging the sleeping bags across their leafy lawn, Adrian spotted the figure again, this time exiting from the back of the house—though his vision was partially obscured by the sleeping bags drooping over his right eye. He put both beddings on the porch and ventured off to find the ghost and befriend it. As soon as he did so, however, his dad appeared and redirected him back to the car to finish unloading what he could. Once that was over, Adrian jumped right back into his original goal and wandered away to the wheat field. He stepped carefully forward, thinking of what one might say to a ghost to make sure it didn’t vanish upon initial interaction, hoping that it was a friendly spirit and not an evil one. Imagine his surprise when, instead of a ghost, Adrian ran into a small ginger-haired boy rummaging around in the dirt. Their eyes connected, and Adrian could see his pupils were a strange shade of crimson. This was not at all what he’d prepared for—yet, in a way, he’d ended up with what he wanted all the same.
#
March 28th, 2010
Easton was the first to fall asleep, as he usually did when the rain started to weather down on the rooftop. He was so peaceful-looking curled up in his bed that Adrian couldn’t help but stare at him from his own. Adrian did this sometimes when he couldn’t sleep: just laid down and memorize the freckles of his best friend’s face from across the room. When he’d first started doing it back in middle school it felt sort of creepy, but that feeling had long since passed and a passive contentment had settled in its place. In his dreams—more frequently than he’d like to admit—he would be laying in Easton’s bed instead of his own, nuzzling him from under the covers, their bodies pressed together as he wrapped his arms around his friend while they breathed to the rhythm of the rain.
But these were the dreams Adrian would wake from with tears down his cheeks, for even unconsciously he knew that fate’s cruel hand would never allow such a treasure. He’d wipe the despondency from his eyes, smile wide, and meet his best friend at the bus stop where the bus would come and pick Easton up first, then Adrian a minute later. He’d go to school, do the ear scratch that signified waving to each other in the hallway between classes, kick around the soccer ball afterschool during practice, then walk home and meet Easton at their usual spot in the tree. Easton would read to him a passage from whichever book he was currently reading (or rereading) while Adrian would challenge his friend to whatever game he’d come up with during study hall. Or sometimes they would just play Name That Tune.
That was a typically uneventful day for Adrian. Or at least it had been. Right now, he was feeling a small distance from his best friend, who’d been acting a bit more emotional lately. But as he stared at his fifteen-year-old roommate who turned away from him towards the window, illuminated by the occasional bolt of lightning, Adrian couldn’t help but feel a bit empty. How could he be filled with such joy and such erosion at the same time? This, dear friend, was because life, despite common misconceptions, is not all or nothing: it is all and nothing. Adrian loved Easton with all his heart, but nothing would change the fact that they were on two separate islands, each barely visible from across an ocean, seeming only a mirage to the other. And unfortunately, my friend, asking for help was a futile task, as life will continue to be unswayed towards the feelings of those in longing.
#
September 4th, 1999
A few moments after Easton had left for dinner at whatever nearby house he lived at, Adrian heard his dad hollering. He walked out of the wheat field to find Mr. Carter frantically jogging around the estate, looking for him. When they spotted each other, Mr. Carter ran over to him and clutched him to his chest. Adrian could feel his dad’s heart beating fast against his right ear.
“Oh, you scared me, son!” Mr. Carter broke away from Adrian. “I’ve been calling you for thirty minutes.”
“I didn’t hear you,” Adrian replied, which was true.
“Where were you?”
“I was playing with my new friend.”
“New friend?”
“Yeah, Easton. He lives ‘round here.”
“Huh. That’s strange. I haven’t seen a house for miles. But be that as it may, you can’t go wandering off just yet. I’m not comfortable with you being out of my sight for right now.”
“Okay. I’m sorry…”
“Well, there’s no use dwelling on it. Once I’ve surveyed the area, I’ll let you know where I think it’s safe for you to play, alright? In the meantime, it’s starting to rain, so let’s go inside and unpack those clothes!”
“What about my bed?”
“Uncle Jesse’s bringing it by tomorrow with the rest of our stuff. Don’t you want to explore your new home? I’ll show you your room!”
Adrian nodded, and they headed into the house through the backdoor, which was unlocked. As soon as they entered the bare kitchen, the five-year-old started looking around with curious eyes. The inside was much like the outside, yet it held a certain charm to it. It was cozy and contained, if not incredibly spacious. It wasn’t particularly clean though and, as Adrian stepped forward, he left a trail of footsteps in the dust. Mr. Carter took notice of him looking back at them and said, “Don’t you worry. I’ll be doing some tidying up tonight.”
“Where’s my room?” Adrian asked.
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
Mr. Carter led him upstairs to the fourth door at the end of the hall. Opening it, Adrian walked inside and saw that his room was fairly large, even for adult standards. The grey curtains on the windows, like the rest of the house, were drawn, but he could hear the rain starting to thump against the glass. He opened them and peered outside to find a slightly blurred view of the leaf-stripped tree in the backyard. He turned around and looked at his dad.
“I like it!” He smiled. “Can we get Burger King now?”
“Alright…” Mr. Carter sighed. “Let’s go.”
Due to the moving boxes and other things blocking the front door, the Carters left the way they came in. The storm had taken no time at all in becoming unruly, so they had to race to the car while unavoidably getting soaked. Young Adrian laughed as he did so. Once they were buckled up and safe from the downpour, Mr. Carter revved the engine and backed out of the muddy gravel driveway and onto the main road. They had to drive all the way out to Altus to order from the closest Burger King and consumed everything within the seven minutes it took to get home. The rain showed no sign of letting up, so Adrian and his dad, again, sprinted for the backdoor, tracking in mud from the bottoms of their shoes.
“Let me find a towel for you to dry off,” Mr. Carter said, and went into the living room. He returned with a folded towel and a change of clothes for his son, who promptly made use of them. While he was doing so, out of the corner of his eye, Adrian spotted another figure scampering upstairs. Perhaps it really was a ghost this time! He left his dad, who was still drying off, and tiptoed towards it, excited at the prospect of finally meeting an otherworldly being. But when he arrived at the second-floor hallway, he found his surroundings wholly empty.
Adrian walked into his room, disappointed again by the results until he looked down. On the floor, staring at him with the same red hue in its eyes as Easton had, was a pearly white cat with a mess of fur grooming itself. This development delighted Adrian. Where had this cat come from? Was this old farmhouse its home? If that was the case, he certainly couldn’t send it out into the rain. Evicting it from the place it already resided simply because they’d moved in was a cruel notion, even if it was the American way. Adrian resolved to care for the poor thing right then and there, slowly sitting down as not to frighten it. The cat, however, seemed unaffected by his presence and continued cleaning its fur.
“Here kitty,” said the young boy. “Come here.”
At this, the cat looked up at him and gave him a hard stare. It was almost as if he was seeing straight through Adrian to something behind him, but Adrian knew there was nothing there. (Unless his dad had come up, but he hadn’t heard any creaks in the floorboards.) Then, quite unexpectedly, the cat darted from its place on the dusty floor and sped past Adrian with the force of a bullet. This caused the young boy to spin around and immediately look up at the person standing in front of him. It was the boy he’d met in the wheat field, Easton.
“What are you doing in my room?” they said together.
For a moment the two kids could only stare at each other. Then, without a word, Easton ran off. He returned moments later, his hand outstretched as he seemed to be dragging something invisible alongside him. Adrian stood up as Easton threw his other arm out and glanced expectedly at the empty space beside him.
“Huh?” said the boy. “But he’s right there!”
Adrian tilted his head, mystified. “Who’re you talking to?”
Easton turned to him. “My brother!” Then he turned back to the empty space. “He’s not imaginary! Touch him!” The red-haired boy grabbed at something in a sort of pantomime, and moved it towards Adrian, stopping when his hand was only a fist’s length away. His eyes went wide. “What…?” Suddenly, Easton let go of what he’d been holding and shoved has hand into Adrian’s chest. His fingers stuck through to the other side. Both boys jumped back, startled by this development.
Adrian’s face lit up giddily. “Cool!”
Easton on the other hand looked frightened for his life and ran off again. Confused, but utterly enthralled by this strange wonderment, Adrian just stood there, smiling, as he didn’t know what else to do. After all this time of imagining something greater, he finally had the unexplainable to indulge in. It was a good thing too, as if he hadn’t had that mindset, the two might never have found the secret to this bizarre happening.
“Dad!” Young Adrian cried, misinterpreting things. “I just met a ghost!”
But of course, we both know that things were not that simple and couldn’t be fully rationalized by two five-year-old brains. For the best of mysteries take years to wind up and a lifetime to unravel. And for Adrian and Easton, a lifetime it would take.
Author: @besttardywrites (Best Tardy)
I did an art installation at my school
Not at all what i wanted but i ran out of time. The monster in the back was supposed to be huge but he's quite small in the end. I learned i hate cardboard
people who’ve had imaginary friends, what was it like? like could you control your imaginary friends or were they sort of their own being? did you think everyone else could see them? did they just disappear one day or did it happen gradually?
Anyways, Medium! Gregory AU
Is he a Spirit guide??? Esper?? Spirit operator??? Doorkeeper?? I have no idea.
—–
I did these a while a go and forgot about it, so here some Gregory and the Afton siblings interactions.
The second picture is from my old laptop(rip) which is why I cannot change it so this is why it looks vastly different, the very different artstyle and typography are from january I think (?). kinda miss it tho.
Prompt 124
In place of August Twelfth, Promptapalooza 5/ When Geralt is a young boy going through the trials, he's afraid of friends. So many boys... Don't make it through. It's easier to not get attached. But it got lonely. Too lonely. So one day, he picked up a dandelion that grew in between the stones in the courtyard, and he made a wish. And that's when he noticed he wasn't alone. There was a boy there. A new boy. He hasn't seen this one before. He must be from the wish! ... Geralt can't focus his eyes enough to figure out what the boy looks like. What is his hair like? Maybe it's curly? Or it poofs out like the dandelion did? The boy giggles and Geralt cocks his head to the side. No.. No it'd be something... Fun. Mischievous, but well-meaning... Messy and tousled. Perhaps a bit wavy. Fluffy and soft. What color would it be? He glances back to the dandelion and thinks of white hair, before he cringes, his own white hair invading his joy. He looked freakish. The dandelion boy didn't deserve that. He'll stay away from dandelion colors. Maybe brown. A nice chestnut color. Geralt blinks and the boy's hair changes before his eyes, becoming what he thought. The boy giggles again and Geralt admires the way it sounds. The boy focuses a tiny bit. His eyes. What about his eyes? He shouldn't be cursed with a witcher's eyes. Something prettier. Like a flower. Blue. The boy unblurs further, staring at him with big blue eyes. Lastly, he needs a name. "Dandelion." His vision of the boy finally cleared, and sat beside him was what must be his new friend. "I'm Geralt." "I'm Dandelion!" "I know that, I named you." "Do you want to play?" And Geralt nods, smiling. Years have passed, and Dandelion is easily Geralt's best friend. Some others have made fun of him here and there for believing in his imaginary friend, but Geralt doesn't care. Dandelion means a lot to him. Geralt's favorite thing to do with Dandelion is have Dandelion sing to him. He likes the sound, and Dandelion is truly very good at it. It all started when Dandelion sang him a lullaby one night when he was scared. Geralt then couldn't stop asking for more and more songs. Dandelion disappears one day. (Maybe during the collapse of the schools? For fun angst?) Geralt mourns and grieves him for years. He ponders for hours what could've made him leave. Was he scared off? Did Geralt do something? Was he ever really real? Years and years and years later, Geralt hears singing. Beautiful, familiar singing. He charges into the tavern and scares the patrons, but he doesn't even care, because standing on stage, playing a lute, is Dandelion. "If you'll excuse me, ladies and gentlemen! A friend of mine has come for me." And he skips off the stage, and right over to Geralt. "Where did you go?" "...I... Had to find a way to be real. Seen by others. Besides you." "Was I not enough?" "No! I mean yes! You were! But- Well, If we were to go on adventures like we always promised, I'd rather people not hold out on paying you because they thought you were crazy for speaking to me!" He laughs, and Geralt can't help it, he chuckles as well. "I- I go by Jaskier now." "Jaskier." "I sing." "...So you do." "I was waiting for you to find me. I knew this town would be on your route! Wasn't I so strategic, Geralt?" "Very strategic, Dand- Jaskier." "Have you come to take me on our adventures, Geralt?" "...Yes, Jaskier. I have."
So usually when an imaginary friend is a real thing in a story, it’s either a demon or a ghost or some supernatural boogeyman that probably wants to eat the kid they’ve befriended (Mama, a couple of the Paranormal Activity movies), or “imaginary friends” are just treated as a real thing in the setting, and if a child just thinks hard enough they can manifest a friend into existence (Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, Happy).
And somewhere in the middle is an area where the imaginary friend in question is real and they are supernatural, but they aren’t malevolent, and they aren’t entirely honest about what they are. Like maybe they’re a fairy or a god or some kind of boggle from mythology, but they just got caught by a six year old and they don’t have time to get into it, so they just go “…Yes. I’m your imaginary friend. We haven’t met. How do you do.” And then they stick around because they do love this kid, and if you’re a boggle from mythology in the modern day good food is really hard to come by.
And at some level. That’s what I think Hobbes is.
This is another classic movie. The posters I’m posting on here are movies that I could watch again and again. Great escapes.
@neil-neil-orange-peel trying to get that DDF fic to come back to life by drawing 😅
This is Koda, one of my "soul ghost" in my story. In fact, I've been drawing him for over a year now, so I'll going to redesign my little Ani! 😼
she walked in at a bad time
My imaginary siblings back in my childhood:
-Asriel
-Chara
-Frisk
Yes, all Undertale characters.
Chara was the oldest, 12 years old.
Asriel was 7 years old, and Frisk was 5. We loved listening to music and playing ball.
Because I'm dying to know:
If you had one, I would love for you to tell us all about them! And PRETTY PLEASE reblog so I can hear about what it was like being a creative kid (I was boring and just had siblings).
