Imaginary (Wednesday Words 1.13.16)

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction prompt based off a combination of three total random things. (I haven’t done one of these in ages.) So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)



The waves crashed softly along the shoreline in the sunset. The orange and red hue painting the horizon and sparkling along the crystal blue waters. A warm, salty wind blew in from the ocean with each crash of the waves, their fingers crawling up the beach and then dragging back into the mother’s womb. It was still and peaceful, the gulls squawking overhead. The sounds of the ocean lulling and meditative, except…

“Can we go home now?”

Marissa stopped her jump along the sand drawn hopscotch, balancing on one foot with her arms out to the side, and glanced to her irritated older sister. “Why?”

“Because this is boring.”

She blinked. “That’s because you have no imagination.”

Clare rolled her evergreen eyes and sighed in an exasperated way. “When are you ever going to grow up? You know mom and dad think your loony up in the head from all the talk of seeing things, don’t you?”

“But I’m not seeing things.” Her lips pulled down in a frown, jumping through the rest of the hopscotch when her arms flailed to stay upright. Then came to stand and look at her sister pouting on the ground.

“Grow up, you’re ten years old. Only crazy people see things and talk to imaginary people and animals after they’ve hit a certain age.”

She huffed and crossed her arms, her eyes flicking to the backdrop of trees where she saw a tiger suddenly stalk out and sit down on the edge of the sand, flicking his ears at her. Its amber eyes stared back into her blue ones.

“You’re doing it again,” Clare muttered, frowning more when she saw where her sister’s eyes had flicked to and the way she cocked her head to the side.

Marissa stuck her tongue out at her sister and started to stomp off towards the edge of the beach, right in the direction of the tiger.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going!? We’re supposed to be heading home before mom and dad have our hides for being out after dark!”

She ignored her sister and plopped down in the sand next to the tiger, tracing patterns in the hard-packed sand with her fingers as she stared at the ground and pulled her knees to her chest. The great cat rumbled in its chest and brushed his head up against her side, nuzzling her.

You shouldn’t listen to her. She just doesn’t know the magic.

Marissa cast her gaze up to the big cat, hearing the voice resound through her head even though its jaws hadn’t parted at all. “I know,” she sighed, “but it’s so…disheartening. Is that the right word?”

The tiger nodded, lifting its paw to lick at it. No one who lost the magic of youth sees us anymore. The imaginary friends and voices of the world. But you, you never lost that magic, you never closed off your mind as they had when told to grow up. You are unique, our protector.

That brought a small smile onto her face, and she reached her hand to scratch behind the tiger’s ear, making him emit a deep purr of delight.

“Marissa! Come on!” her sister called again, hands on her hips now as she watched Marissa seemingly scratch at thin air, not seeing the tiger sitting at her side.

She frowned a little more and looked back up towards her, pausing in her scratching. The big cat gave a rough lick to Marissa’s hand, rubbing his head against her once more before nudging her lightly.

Go on, before the  close-minded human starts on her rampage again and mutters all the way home. I will be at your side and follow, we can talk in your room more freely before bed.

Marissa nodded, smiling a little again and got up, dusting the sand off herself. “Alright! I’m coming!” she called back at a grumble, skipping off to follow her sister to the trail that led home.

The great cat chuckled deep in its chest and got up, padding off after them with his tail flicking side to side in amusement.


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