ToastA Story by Audrey Wynters A short story about an imaginary friend who is no longer believed in. My name is Toast. An odd name some might argue, especially that of someone who is neither here nor there. And when I say that I am neither here nor there I simply mean that I am not of this world or the one after. The "here" being earth and the "there" being the after earth. I am a "Betweener", as are all those who reside on this plane alongside me. I am what your kind would call an "imaginary friend" although I assure you I am anything but imaginary. Most adults don't remember that we even exist; children know us but since they don't worry or even wonder about how we come to be, it never seemed an important topic to discuss. But now my time here is reaching its end and I only wish to tell you these little truths in the hopes that by sharing my story I can find some means to live on, in some manner or another anyways. Here on this plane we all start out as Betweeners, the name is self explanatory of course. We are not alive nor are we dead, we simply are. We dwell in the gaps between the lines of a book, the pauses within a song, and in the eternal depths of the shadows at night. We are the unfilled spaces in your lives, our voices are the sound of silence. We linger here in this empty world waiting to be noticed. Of course we are not seen in the way that all things in your world are seen. Betweeners are seen by believing they can be, if that makes any sense to you. The minds of children are open to all things both visible and hidden, and when children wish to see what can't be seen they only have to know that it is, and then it will be. This is becoming quite confusing I'm sure, allow me to give you an example. If a child thinks there is a fairy living in the patch of flowers in their backyard, we Betweeners are drawn out from our plane and into yours. We become the thing children feel they see, the presence they are sure is there. We are the imagination of children everywhere, becoming the things they believe so intently to exist. We are the trolls in the garden, the elves in the woods, and though it pains us, we are the monsters under your bed. I was drawn out from my plane by a little girl named Charlie. One day she turned to the little chair by the foot of her bed and said "Hello Toast" and there I was. I was so excited to be seen in that moment, and I fell in love with her in the way that children fall in with love each other. It was beautiful, innocent, and tender. Charlie and I had tea parties together, and played in the tulips her mother planted each spring. At night we snuggled under the same heavy blanket. She read me stories about lords and ladies and kingdoms in faraway lands. We made forts out of old boxes, and when she was good her Mother would let her eat her lunch with me in our cardboard home. Charlie introduced me to everyone. Adults were quick to nod and glance awkwardly in my general direction, but children laughed and greeted me with wonderful gap toothed smiles. Adults are funny about things they can't see, but children accept all things with ease. Together we would a play games like Hide and Seek and Red Rover. We danced, sang songs, made jokes, and chased each other all around the lawn. When supper came we went inside and washed our hands. Charlie would sit in her seat and I would sit beside her in the chair her mother had placed on my behalf. I watched Charlie eat her meals with great interest; the way she seemed to eat chicken fingers and hot dogs in a single breath, and scowled and moaned at the sight of broccoli and asparagus. I can't eat. This is not to say that I don't want to, I would love to if I had the chance. I simply can't eat as my body is not entirely a part of Charlie's world and as such I can't interact with it in the same way she can. I did so wish to try the food for which I received my name sake, but it simply will never be. And if you were curious about that, I will simply say that Charlie loves toast and thought it a fitting name for an imaginary friend who she would love just as much. Charlie and I spent many
wonderful days together. We laughed and played and explored and though I regret
nothing of that time, I look back on those days with a hint of chagrin knowing
they can never be again. Charlie is growing up and I am slowly becoming a part
of her past rather than her present. She still talks to me from time to time,
but only ever for a fleeting moment, and even then it seems hollow. She talks
to me now in the way adults will sometimes talk to themselves; she isn't so
much speaking to me anymore, as she is to herself. When her mother tells her to
eat her asparagus (she still detests it) she half turns in my direction and
says "she knows I hate the stuff but she always makes it." Charlie
says these things with a little smile that I notice is becoming more knowing and
less believing. That is the eventuality of all children that we Betweeners must
come to accept. Some retain a bit of their childhood wonder, but even this is
usually nothing but a fizzle. They begin to see us as we truly are, as
something that does not fit in this world, and then they simply don't see us at
all. When Betweeners lose the link with
our children, we slip from their world and every world altogether. To be a
Betweener who is no longer believed in is to no longer exist. We know this and
yet each of us who has had a chance to be loved by a child would say that ours has
not been a life wasted. We come to be as a way for them
to make sense of the creaks in the night, the whispers in the leaves, and the
need for a friend. Children breathe life in to our existence by simply saying
we are there, and we do not judge them or abandon them. We stay until they no
longer need us and then we disappear. Our lives are fleeting, gone as quickly
as they came and yet never have I wished for anything more. This is the journey
of an imaginary friend, and of any Betweener who has been called to this world.
Betweeners are the magic in their lives, for what seems only a brief moment,
and then we fade away like a flame whose wick has reached its end. I am fading away. Charlie doesn't see me anymore. I watch her as she does her homework and reads her books. I listen while she sings in the shower and talks to her friends on the phone. I wait for her to turn to me and smile, but she doesn't. I don't have a place in her world anymore, but that's okay. I see her smile and laugh and play and I know she will be a good person in this world. She will be happy and someday she will fall in love and have children. Maybe she will tell her children about me, maybe not. I don't have much time left, but I will spend it remembering those days we spent in the tulips and the thunderstorms when we held each other under that heavy blanket. I will look back on those years and I will always see Charlie smiling at me. I will see her hand outstretched awaiting mine. In my memories we will always be together. My name was Toast, I was imaginary. My friendship with Charlie was real. A.Wynters © 2015 Audrey WyntersFeatured Review
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Audrey WyntersOttawa, CanadaAboutI love to read and write and have been actively doing both since I was a little girl. I dream of the day I might see my writing in print so I can turn to someone and say "I wrote that". I love the.. more..Writing
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