When I was young, about seven, I had an imaginary friend I called Magnolia – Nolie for short. She was a very kind lady. We would do things together and she didn’t ever, not once, mention my lisp, well, except once, she slipped and said ‘mithtake’ instead of ‘mistake,’ and we both laughed. She wasn’t trying to be mean, it just slipped out. She always took my side.
Strangely, though, in my imagination she would periodically change into someone else. Sometimes she was a teenage girl, sometimes my Aunt Mary. I never knew what form she would take, which was confusing. All I knew at the time, was that she was someone who was faithful and always stood by me. She told me I was pretty and smart and I always felt better about things when she was with me, which was pretty much all the time. There was this one thing, though, that bothered me. Most times her face was sort of blurry, like in a dream.
We talked about everything. She was so smart, she taught me a lot—mostly how to think about things from different sides. Sometimes she would say, “Now slow down a minute and think this through. Do you really think your mother doesn’t love you? Just because your dad left, doesn’t mean she is angry with you. It wasn’t your fault. Let’s see if we can think of things that might prove she cares very much.” (we never did come up with much, truth be told) Or, Nolie would say,“I don’t blame you for feeling that way about Marcy, but have you ever thought about why she would say something like that? Maybe she was upset about something and took it out on you. I know that’s no excuse, and I’m sorry she said what she did, but what if you asked her if something was the matter? If maybe there was something you could do? Of course, if she’s still mean to you, at least you tried, which should make you feel better.”
There was this other mean kid in my class named Ian. He was always mad about something and sometimes he made fun of my lisp. I remember one day, though, he looked like he’d been crying. I felt sorry for him and asked him what was wrong. He yelled at me and told me to mind my own “busineth.” I don’t know what makes people mean. But I do think there’s probably a reason. Something at home they can’t do anything about, maybe. Anyway, something big that they can’t stop thinking about.
On the last day of school that year, I found a note in my backpack. It said, “I’m sorry. I hope you will forgive me.” No signature. Who was it from? Mom? Marcy? Ian? What good is an apology if you don’t know who’s apologizing?
Turned out it was Nolie. Seems I had outgrown my need for her. She was gone.
| Writing Prompt |
This is a flash fiction contest. Write a story that has a surprise ending. Since it is flash, the word count must be between 200 and 600 words. The ending can be funny, sad, shocking, etc. But the reader has to be surprised. |
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