My imaginary friend only appears in the woods. I sneak him bologna sandwiches, and he eats them quickly, perching on a fallen log; his claws pick apart the bread, and his mandibles twitch. I think he's happy, but he doesn't let me get close to him. I stand on the other side of the clearing while he eats, but I tell him about my day, and he's a good listener.
"Miss Mary told me you're imaginary," I tell him. He doesn't have a name, but I call him the Bug Man, in my head. He's really tall, taller than Mick, and Mick's almost 18 and will be leaving the house soon. His limbs are long and spindly, and he's got eyes kind of like a fly. The Bug Man doesn't seem to mind when I tell him he's imaginary. He just keeps eating. But I feel sorry for him. "I really thought you were real," I say. "I swore up and down. But Miss Mary says it's just my mind being active, even though I'm a little old to have an imaginary friend." Miss Mary doesn't lie, so I guess he isn't real, even though he seems really real, crouching there in front of me.
Something in the woods makes a sound, and the Bug Man hops off the log and sprints away on all fours. I stare after him for a minute. I wonder what he gets up to, when he's alone in the woods, but then I remember he isn't real, so he probably doesn't get up to anything. The sandwich is all gone, so I return to the house empty-handed.
paw>>>claw(s)
Working on a short story prequel to my WIP The Cryptid of Sunnyside.
MC Sam at 10 years old, with his "imaginary friend" the Bug Man 🪰
#WIPSnips #TheCryptidOfSunnyside #WriteSky
