| General Fiction posted June 19, 2019 |
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So unfair...
Wilbur
by Heather Knight
My therapist told me to draw a picture of my family. At first, I refused. I was still mad at my parents for forcing me to see her.
I didn't need a therapist, I was telling the truth!
In the end, however, I started tracing little figures on the piece of paper she gave me.
First, I drew mum. She was huge and her mouth was open wide.
'Why is your mum's mouth like that?' my therapist asked.
'She's always shouting at me,' I said.
I continued drawing. In my picture, Dad was rolling his eyes.
'Why the look?' my therapist wanted to know.
'He never believes me.'
I went on to outline Wilbur.
'Who's that?'
'Wilbur.'
'And who's Wilbur?'
'My dragon.'
'Is he a toy?' my therapist asked, trying to hide a smile.
'No, he's real. Do you want to come home with me to meet him?'
'I'm afraid I can't.'
When my parents arrived to pick me up, I was asked to wait outside.
Dr Walsh said I would be needing quite a few more sessions. I heard her say I lived in a fantasy world.
That night, at home in my room, I started reading a book. I was angry at the world and stories calmed me down.
Wilbur sat next to me on the bed.
'Please, don't read the Saint George story,' he said. 'You know I find it very scary.'
'Okay, I won't. But you have to do something for me.'
'Anything.'
'I want you to pay my therapist a visit tomorrow morning.'
'Done.'
Later the next day, I heard my parents speaking about Dr Walsh. Apparently she had been taken to hospital after suffering a nervous breakdown. The paramedics said she claimed to have seen a dragon.
My therapist told me to draw a picture of my family. At first, I refused. I was still mad at my parents for forcing me to see her.
I didn't need a therapist, I was telling the truth!
In the end, however, I started tracing little figures on the piece of paper she gave me.
First, I drew mum. She was huge and her mouth was open wide.
'Why is your mum's mouth like that?' my therapist asked.
'She's always shouting at me,' I said.
I continued drawing. In my picture, Dad was rolling his eyes.
'Why the look?' my therapist wanted to know.
'He never believes me.'
I went on to outline Wilbur.
'Who's that?'
'Wilbur.'
'And who's Wilbur?'
'My dragon.'
'Is he a toy?' my therapist asked, trying to hide a smile.
'No, he's real. Do you want to come home with me to meet him?'
'I'm afraid I can't.'
When my parents arrived to pick me up, I was asked to wait outside.
Dr Walsh said I would be needing quite a few more sessions. I heard her say I lived in a fantasy world.
That night, at home in my room, I started reading a book. I was angry at the world and stories calmed me down.
Wilbur sat next to me on the bed.
'Please, don't read the Saint George story,' he said. 'You know I find it very scary.'
'Okay, I won't. But you have to do something for me.'
'Anything.'
'I want you to pay my therapist a visit tomorrow morning.'
'Done.'
Later the next day, I heard my parents speaking about Dr Walsh. Apparently she had been taken to hospital after suffering a nervous breakdown. The paramedics said she claimed to have seen a dragon.
I didn't need a therapist, I was telling the truth!
In the end, however, I started tracing little figures on the piece of paper she gave me.
First, I drew mum. She was huge and her mouth was open wide.
'Why is your mum's mouth like that?' my therapist asked.
'She's always shouting at me,' I said.
I continued drawing. In my picture, Dad was rolling his eyes.
'Why the look?' my therapist wanted to know.
'He never believes me.'
I went on to outline Wilbur.
'Who's that?'
'Wilbur.'
'And who's Wilbur?'
'My dragon.'
'Is he a toy?' my therapist asked, trying to hide a smile.
'No, he's real. Do you want to come home with me to meet him?'
'I'm afraid I can't.'
When my parents arrived to pick me up, I was asked to wait outside.
Dr Walsh said I would be needing quite a few more sessions. I heard her say I lived in a fantasy world.
That night, at home in my room, I started reading a book. I was angry at the world and stories calmed me down.
Wilbur sat next to me on the bed.
'Please, don't read the Saint George story,' he said. 'You know I find it very scary.'
'Okay, I won't. But you have to do something for me.'
'Anything.'
'I want you to pay my therapist a visit tomorrow morning.'
'Done.'
Later the next day, I heard my parents speaking about Dr Walsh. Apparently she had been taken to hospital after suffering a nervous breakdown. The paramedics said she claimed to have seen a dragon.
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