Not Real

"Have you seen Nick?" the boy twirled a soldier figurine around in his hands, not really playing with it but more keeping his mind on something.

"Nick?" the man asked, looking away from the fridge. The boy looked over at him, expression unreadable.

"You know, my brother."

He shut the fridge, sighing and walking over to him. "We've been over this before, you remember?"

The boy looked at him blankly and he felt his irritation rising to the surface again as he continued, "Nick was never real. He was just an imaginary friend. But that's okay, because everyone grows out of it at different stages."

"But he's been with me all my life," the boy moaned, "Mum and Dad knew him."

"They probably didn't want to spoil it for you," he murmured, "but you are an only child. Nick's gone away. He won't come back."

"How do you know?"

His hands clenched into fists, annoyance and impatience surging through him as he grabbed the figurine from the boys clutches, crushing it within his grip, "He's. Not. Real."

He threw the broken toy to the ground and turned, leaving the boy to begin his crying alone.

[195 words]

Meaningless

I could see the light streaking through the window. Why? I had closed that damn curtain... I stopped, remembering the little girl I'd met. "It'll add some warmth to the dark," she'd said. I moaned, getting up and dragging myself over to close the curtain anyway. I didn't want to see the moon. I didn't want to see the stars. I wanted darkness. Black. Nothing. The way my life would be from now on. I didn't want to feed my hope. I snuggled onto the floor, and wrapped my arms around my knees, hiding my face as I brokedown into pointless sobs. Life was horrible. Meaningless. I wanted nothing to do with it.

[113 words]

What's Inside

She sat staring absently at the wall in front of her - images, words and memories running through her mind. She shook her head to try and clear her thoughts, but they wouldn't go away. She fiddled with the string around her neck. She was a little bored, but she knew now was not a time to share this. There were more important matters pressing, like what she had just witnessed. She wasn't stupid, she knew what it meant.

She leaned back, taking a strand of hair in her hands and wrapped it gently around her fingers. She wondered vaguely where her good friend was, wondered what he was getting up to now. She though about what he'd said, and wondered how he knew. Again, she tried to free her mind of the images there, but was unsuccessful at doing so. Until she heard a distraction, at least. She tip toed towards the door, and tried to listen to the raised voices she heard. It took a moment to focus her hearing, to try and catch on to the commotion.

It was no use. The words were muffled and she couldn't make them out. She retreated further back into the room, waiting for a time she wasn't sure would come. It was then she first noticed the bulk in her jeans pocket. She quickly checked for what was inside, and pulled out a pen. She sat down quietly, staring at it. She knew someone had placed it there, but who? She began to twirl it in her fingers, more for something to do than anything else. And continued to wait.

[270 words]