Friend Or Foe?

• Abby Hodges, Grade 9, Presbyterian Ladies College
• Short Story
• 2011

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

I never once did see the man in the woods. I saw his cottage. Everyone saw his cottage. Small, sour and craggy. But nobody saw him. Which was strange; because although he could not be seen, felt or touched. He could be heard. I could hear him. He was so loud. But my parents used to say, “No Sylvia, he’s not there.”

All through my life I could not help but ponder him. What, where, how, why; who? He filled my brain, there was no room for anything else. My grades had gone a long time ago, I didn’t have a life. He nattered on and on. Never pausing, not even to take a breath.

It’s not as though I wanted to think of him! I wasn’t in love! Just addicted. To his voice…so loud. A sweet ensemble yet a piercing lullaby. I knew he had to go. But I couldn’t stop; or rather he couldn’t. You’d think I would know him back to front. But I didn’t even know who he was. My parents used to say “no Sylvia, he’s not there.”

But his image rings through my head like the vibration of a church bell. How could he not be there! I scream at them. My parents run their hands through their thinning hair, and sigh. But I keep listening.

I don’t like the screaming. If they see him…it’ll finally stop. Won’t it? I swing open the door of the cottage. Camera at the ready. I’d rehearsed what I was going to say. “Hi, I always knew you were real.” He’d talked about the fraying furniture, the kettle that only boiled the water to lukewarm, the wacky ornaments on the brick mantle piece. My heart sags, the illusion shatters. Nothing. Emptiness, cobwebs, rot and mould. The man was gone. Who knows for how long, a day, a month, a year. Maybe he was never there at all. I still don’t know. My parents smiled and gurgled a joyous laugh. “Good, my dear Sylvia. He’s not there!”

For the first time in 15 years, the natter reduced to a babble, and the babble reduced to a whisper. I could shut him out at school, and I could shut him out at home, I could shut him out when I went shopping with my new best friend.

But sometimes, when I lie in the fields surrounding my home. I let him in, because I miss him. Secretly, I still believe. I stare up at the sun, and take comfort in the fact that he might be seeing the same rays and feeling the same warmth. Sometimes, I even see him out of the corner of my eye. His unknown image flying through the sky, all the colours of the rainbow dancing in his eyes, leaving a trail of stars spinning like disco balls behind him. I yell my thanks. He yells back.

I am 99. I saw him yesterday. He waved goodbye. Goodbye I said. I finally let him go.