Disclaimer: This is my first piece of fiction I am posting on WordPress, be as harsh as you would like with the criticism; that’s how I learn. The style is a bit unusual for me, but bear in mind, I haven’t written fiction in a while. This is an older piece I’m really fond of about the death of an imaginary friend.
A faint murmuring–that’s all you’ll hear. Cut me open and splay me. Let everyone see the contents of my broken heart. They say it looks like bits of colored glass. I tried my damnedest to be beautiful; I tried my best to be lovely.
I’m filled with regrets, and my biggest regret is you.
All my life was dedicated to you, and you never even noticed me. So here I am, dying, and I half-expect you to catch your breath. My wings are stretched taut, picking up the light like stained glass. Soon, they will crumple like tissue paper scorched.
I had hidden myself in the corners of your broken-hearted dreams. When you cried yourself to sleep, I would hang back, befriending shadows, waiting for you to call me out of the darkness. I tried my best to be lovely. I would have unvaulted the stars from the heavens if I could have. At times, I even spoke into the conch of your ear, declaring you perfect. You wrote it off as the wind. I begged you to notice me, but you would have rather packaged me up in a broken-in box, heavy with photographs, weighted down in memories.
You were too busy catching fireflies and drinking root beer out of brown glass bottles to ever take the time to see. Sometimes, I remember you, a dreamy look on your face as though you were expecting me. As soon as I approached, it was as though something roused you, shook you awake.
One early evening, after the sun had set and the last pinks and oranges of the sky had bled out, I saw you sitting next to the window, knees drawn to your chin, tucked into yourself. I approached, feeling bare, exposed. My heart was glass, and you could see every intention. If only you had opened your eyes.
You never saw me for who I was; you never even acknowledged me. I was born out of your own needs. You needed a companion; you needed a friend, but somehow, you never even noticed me. They crafted me from your dreams, they told me my eyes were to sparkle, and I was to be an angel. They never once told me what it feels like to die before I even make my presence known. They never once told me that I was trying to capture the attention of a girl who just wanted to ignore me.
I tried my damnedest to be beautiful; I tried my best to be lovely. So, here I lie, my wings stretched taut like an exhibit, waiting to be sketched to be forever marked in a book of imaginary sciences. My sole existence relied on you, and you were too busy catching fireflies to even catch my pleading glimpses.
I would hide in plain sight, just waiting for you to notice me, but what they didn’t tell me is how lonely I would become in the waiting. I would whisper for you, and sometimes, I would even shout, but my shout would come out in hushed tones, a voice I barely recognized as my own.
No one ever told me that I would find myself crying for you, a you I never even knew.
No one ever told me that I would find myself lonely and eventually, I would be like an autumnal leaf, crumbling while everyone watches, and no one sees me all the same. I spent my life alone; now I am dying, and I am still alone.
I tried to stretch my wings one more time to fly to be by your side, but you were grown up, and you had no need for me. You never really needed me; it was just a lie I told myself to get through the day. Now, came the time when I needed you, and you were nowhere to be found.
I let out one last breath, a gasp for air, and as I did, you flicked your face around. You turned your gaze to meet mine, and you collapsed in a heap to see an imaginary friend you never needed, dying as a martyr for the love I always had for you.
That love would burn longer than my short life. It was the kerosene that lit the sconce that was your heart. You would always have that image seared into your memory: a tiny, broken angel, wings stretched taut, on a gurney, begging “love” with my dying breath.
Goodbye, little girl. We never knew one another, but damn if I didn’t try to know you all my life.
It’s a shorter piece, but I think it packs a punch. Let me know what you think!