Little Friend

I take the shape of whatever you imagine. This is how she imagined me: 

It seems as though the sky is always trying to entertain us. During the day, clouds dance among the wind, and when the sun disappears the stars scatter throughout the sky. The best part of the show is when the sun sets or when it rises. It looks as if amber ashes have been shot into the sky. The color moves through just like the blood in my veins. At that moment the sky is the same color as my wings. I can fade into the sky without anyone seeing the difference.   

When the sun gazes in its direction, the ocean begins to blush with sparkles. It can be rough as it sways into crashing waves, or It can be calm and patient waiting for the right moment. The coolness of the breeze climbs up your back to give a shiver. My eyes are the color of the ocean when it begins to shimmer in the light.    

Fire is death. Its hot blazing flames can turn into a monster. Growing as it growls. The ash it makes is the same color as my hair. Trees tremble when the wind rushes past them, but when they smell smoke, they stand still hoping they won't get found.   

The silver moonlight that shines above at night and the sharpness of a knife reflects how my scales look. They begin at my ears and slide down towards my shoulders.  

I do not fear the depths. When I swim towards the bottom of the ocean it calms me. I can only swim well with my scales; I can’t breathe.   

During a storm, bolts of lightning paint the sky. Thunder joins in by laughing. Together they show the world what they're made off. Together they are stronger. I'm the lighting and your kids are the thunder.  

You're probably still guessing what I am, so let me just come right out and say it.  

I live amongst humans, but they are too blind to see. You might have heard about me from your kids. Haven't you heard about “imaginary friends”? You probably don’t believe me, but who do you think taught your kids how to talk? It was me. I hate how those parents always take credit. We call the kids “little friends”. Believe me when I say it's not an easy job.  

I had a little friend; her name was Rose. She had brown hair and dark sliver eyes. At first, I was sure she was one of us. Her eyes looked too deep to be human eyes. I was wrong. She was indeed a human, and she was one of the closest little friends I have ever had. She was my very first little friend. We would ride our bikes through the park and laugh when butterflies flew past. We would play dolls and run around the house all day long. 

One day she died. She was only 4 years old.  

The day she passed away was dark. Grey clouds were covering up the sun. It felt as if the sky understood my pain. I was heartbroken. My last memory of her was when she smiled one last time before her eyes shut. I never knew why she had left. The humans called it “cancer”.    

Within the imaginary community news that my little friend had passed away was spreading like wildfire. Soon everyone knew about it. It was never good when those kinds of things happen. As rumors spread, they get worse and worse soon enough it was said that I was the one who killed her. After something like that happens you don’t get to work with a lot of kids anymore.   

Even though I didn’t work with as many little friends as I used to, I still worked with a small amount. I tried to take my mind of little rose every day but it didn’t work.   

The imaginary world doesn't go through that kind of sadness. We are always happy. Nobody dies in my world. Nobody feels that amount of pain.  

After that I didn’t care about my job. Until the day he came to my hut. I had just woken up from an afternoon nap. He usually is very busy and never has time to come and visit. He had a tail this time and big bunny ears. He looked very different from the last time I saw him. The sight of him amazes me and I start to laugh.  

“Yes, my little friend has great imagination” he says rolling his eyes.  

My smile turns into a frown. At least his little friend isn't dead. He notices the sudden change in mood and says “Our world is not like theirs, Melo”  

“I know grandpa. I just have realized that the hard way” I say

replaying the memory of rose in my mind.   

“Nothing lasts forever. You were going to lose her when she turned six anyway. Just the way she went was very sad” he says.  

“But I really did think she was going to be a mega” I say trying to make that sentence sound not too desperate.   

“Oh Melo, you know a mega is a little friend who doesn’t forget you after the age of six and that only happens if your relationship with the little friend is strong, more than strong I mean. It has to be unbreakable” he says with a slight note of sympathy.  

I knew me and rose’s friendship was unbreakable. I knew she was going to be mega. I just knew it.  

“They are really rare” he adds in a whisper.   

“Are you here to tell me that I should get out of this hut and go work with little friends? Because that’s not going to work. I have heard that from way too many people.” I say sounding annoyed.   

“No not at all. I'm here to tell you that Rose just had a baby brother. Here's your chance to make things right.”  

“How will I know he won't go like Rose?” I ask  

“You don’t” he replays with a smile “But it’s a risk I think you’ll be willing to take.”