A Child's Imagination

Reads: 395  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man, bored with his office job and lacklustre life, re-discovers his imagination.

Submitted: December 08, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 08, 2012

A A A

A A A


 

A child’s imagination.

You are sitting at your desk in a poky office, with your head down. The top of your head faces a pitiful window. After a time, you glance up from your paperwork. The day is grey and outside it's raining. You set your biro down and watch water droplets race down the outside of the dull glass...

Pulling off the road in your swish Mercedes, you slowly turn round into your gravel driveway. Tires crunch on the chips of wet stone as you pass limp, dripping laurel bushes. Parking the car, you expel a sigh of gratification. Home.

To keep water off your leather seat, you quickly jump from the comfortably warm car into the cold rain, snapping shut the door with a muffled thump. Walking up to your front door, a jet plane passes overhead, roaring over the thick thunderheads and startling the rat of a dog in the house next door. You can hear it snapping and yapping from behind the safety of its doleful owners' front door.

You hurriedly swing wide the thick, pitted oak door and allow yourself a long slow smile. Warm inside, and pissing it down outside; there’s hardly a better feeling. You shrug off your damp brown overcoat and hang it up. Bending down to unlace your office shoes, a thought drifts through your consciousness.

A walk in the woods would be a great idea. You haven't a clue where this came from. Maybe after hearing the rustling leaves and heaving boughs of trees? After hearing the dog next door? A childhood memory surfaces. Running with your neighbour's golden retriever through the dripping wet forest at the back of your parents’ house, wrestling in mud and rotting leaves. How you had laughed! And the look on your mother’s face! So many years ago.

Grabbing the coat, you spin around and run out your front door, reaching back blindly to slam it shut. You smile again, and look straight up at the roiling dark grey sky. Dashing alongside the side of your house, you come upon the small wooden gate in the wall. Despite yourself, you stop and stare down at it. It has been years since you last passed through this gate, since you last thought of it. It’s good to be back.

As you step through the gate and into the forest, a great big colourful bird swoops down and alights upon your shoulder. It's talons grip gently and you ignore the trees, distracted by the bird's wonderful plumage. The rain goes away and you are a child again.

As it makes to take off, the bird's grip upon you is stronger than you anticipated. All of a sudden, you are struck with an irrepressible urge to fly, but you are afraid. This wonderful bird could drop you at any time, only to plummet back down to Earth.

The bird stares down at you as if to tell you it will keep you safe, always.

Turning back to the faultless blue sky behind a curtain of golden leaves, glistening in the afternoon sunlight, the bird spreads its wings and flaps slowly, testing the air. The bird beats its wings faster. As you are plucked from the ground, you kick wildly and a sense of weightlessness overcomes you. One of your thrusting feet snags on the low branch of a nearby tree. Your attention turns to the ground below and you perceive, with a clarity you thought impossible, the world you will lose.

Its mundaneness, it's consistency, it's wonders, it's disappointments and its joys. Your mother's red happy face flashes in your mind. A faraway image of your father, smoking a pipe and laughing, rocking back and forth in his creaky wooden chair.

The bird slows its ascent and then levels off, steadily beats its huge wings, just enough to hold you in place a few feet above the forest floor. Your vision returns to the patient iridescent bird. In stark contrast with the stale world beneath you, the bird is alive, its wise black eyes shining with exultation, and adventure. Without any further hesitation, you kick off with your feet. The bird pumps its wings hard, propelling itself upwards amongst the leafy boughs. As the ground below turns to tree tops, you let loose a howl of pure joy.

Before you is a wide open sea, sparkling green and pink in the fading embers of a dying sun. The bird takes you where it will, to soar into the wide blue sky, among its floating cities and silver clouds.


© Copyright 2020 KroseKlan. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments: