Imaginary Friends

By M D Curzon

‘Imaginary Friends’ is a book of engaging and insightful short stories by M D Curzon, the author of ‘Anticipation’. 'Imaginary Friends' includes the title story and a dozen others, from the experimental juvenilia of 'Space Stations and Weather Balloons' through to the beautifully refined 'One Thing in Light of Another'. These diverse stories were written over a number of years but are now available for the first time in anthology form.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M D Curzon
• Release date: Jan 15, 2015

M D Curzon

I was born in Nepal and grew up in the UK and NZ. Travelling is an essential part of my life and I am interested in all that is new to me. I am an active member of the Sydney Writers’ Room in Australia, and have always written poetry, lyrics and prose for my own pleasure. My degree in philosophy sometimes helps me to justify why I didn’t choose a more sensible career. I have just published my first volume of short stories, entitled 'Imaginary Friends'. These stories were written over a number of years but are now available for the first time in anthology form. 'Imaginary Friends' includes the title story and a dozen others, from the experimental juvenilia of 'Space Stations and Weather Balloons' through to the recently refined 'One Thing in Light of Another'. ‘Anticipation’ is my first completed novel and is, I hope, an accessible work of literary fiction. My protagonist is a young woman in search of her place in the world. Having fallen in love and been rejected, K’s story draws on a number of spiritual and aesthetic dispositions in a journey that is fundamentally one of optimism and self-determination. ‘Anticipation’ is divided into three 'books', each of which represents a dimension of the relationship between anticipation and actuality. I hope that 'Anticipation' succeeds in provoking some philosophical thought whilst also being a page-turner of a story, with a reflexive and rewarding conclusion. The covers for 'Imaginary Friends' and 'Anticipation' were designed by the fantastic Fahimah Badrulhisham.

Book preview

Copyright 1997 - 2014 © M D Curzon

Cover art 2014 © Fahimah Badrulhisham

Published by Swing Wing International

All rights reserved

The stories in this book are works of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

Imaginary Friends

Moya looks up as the winter sun breaks between the eucalypts. Her breath pours out and catches fire in a shaft of light as she jumps down between the rocks into the hollow. Her hair seems to hesitate before settling again around her shoulders. She pats the leaves down around her.

‘There. Sit here, it’s comfortal’

The leaves that line the hollow are soft and dry. They rustle gently, like tissue paper. Moya kicks off her little green gumboots and reaches out for the tin of mints that she has stashed on a shelf of rock.

‘Do you want a mint?’ she asks, holding out the little tin. Then she takes one herself before carefully placing the tin back on the shelf.

She licks her lips.

‘I taste sweet!’ she giggles, kicking leaves around with her bare feet.

‘Why don’t you wear any shoes?’ she asks after some time ‘Have you lost them?’

She purses her lips. In the distance a cockatoo screeches but otherwise the world is quiet. Moya’s expression changes and for a moment she looks like a little old lady. Sadness passes through her eyes.

The shadows deepen in the hollow. They creep upwards until only the tips of the rocks are bathed in the last of the light.

A distant voice echoes through the valley.

‘Moya- ya –ya –ya’

‘That’s my mum’ Moya says, sitting upright ‘I better go’

She pulls on her boots and stands up. She is just tall enough to look out over the rocks. Down the ridge and through the trees the valley opens out into sudden grassland. She can just make out the straw bale house that her father built. The alpacas are trotting toward the house from the dam.

‘Moya- ya –ya –ya’

‘I wish you could come and stay with us’ Moya says ‘You could meet my family and I could show you our donkeys and alpacas. Sometimes I go and watch the alpacas when I’m sad. They’re funny. We used to have camels too, Noddy and Jellamy, but they…’

Moya doesn’t finish the sentence. She climbs out of the hollow and looks back down self-consciously.

‘You can take the rest of the mints. I’ll see you tomorrow’

Moya runs with the certainty of childhood. She slaloms between the trees and jumps over the rocks that lead her home. When she slides down the embankment behind the house the first stars are already breaking through the sky. Somewhere over Mt Yengo, beyond the repetitive ridges, the embers of the sun fade in tiny wisps of golden cloud.

‘Are you hungry?’ Angie asks as the door closes.

Moya nods.

‘Not too full of mints?’ Angie narrows her eyes with a suspicious smile.

Moya shakes her head.

‘Go and wash your hands then’

Moya pulls off her boots and jacket. The house is warm. The wood burner is roaring in the lounge and the solid fuel cooker is cranking. Bob Dylan plays ‘Desolation Row’ on the stereo and the smell of vegetable stew fills the air. Ben, her father, gets up from his writing desk and stretches.

‘What have you been doing with yourself then?’ he asks, as she crosses the tile floor towards him.

‘I’ve been with Bentley’

Ben glances over at Angie. Angie shrugs her shoulders.

‘How is Bentley these days?’ she asks.

‘He’s sad’

Ben and Angie exchange a look but before Ben can say anything there is a sudden blast of cold air as Moya’s older brother Seamus comes inside.

‘Ramli’s been following me around’ he says, as he helps himself from the pot ‘He tried to head-butt me’

‘Maybe because you fed him last time?’ Angie suggests, smacking his hand away.

Seamus grins.

‘He fed him again this morning’ Moya says.

Seamus lowers his head and does an impression of the young bull. He pretends to chase Moya across the open space from the kitchen to the living area. Moya squeals and climbs over the couch to escape her brother.

‘Enough’ Angie claps her hands together ‘Table time’

Ben sits down at the head of the table. ‘Mmmm. Smells delicious, doesn’t it guys?’

Moya nods vigorously as she joins him.

‘Look at your fringe, darling. How can you see through that? I’ll have to give you a haircut…’ Angie says as she carries the pot of stew over from the stove.

‘I don’t want a haircut. Bentley likes my hair’

Angie puts the stew on the long table and looks exasperated. She opens her eyes wide and wobbles her head at Ben.

‘Bentley will still like you when you get your hair cut, sweetheart’ Ben smiles.

‘He already says I look like a boy, Dad’

Seamus snorts with laughter as he sits across the table from Moya.

‘Nonsense’ Ben laughs, pouring himself a glass of wine ‘You’re the prettiest girl in the valley’

Moya grins.

‘You’re the only girl in the valley’ Seamus points out.

Ben and Angie both glare at Seamus.

‘What?’ Seamus shrugs his shoulders.

‘Be nice to your sister if you want any dinner’ Angie warns him ‘Now pass your plates over!’

‘I’m not the only girl in the valley’ Moya objects, biting her lip.

Darkness falls. After dinner Seamus goes out to identify the stars. Moya sits on the rocking chair in front of the wood-burner, deep in thought. Her shadow is thrown dancing across the room, toward the kitchen space.

‘How’s your story on Renee going?’ Angie asks Ben as they wash the dishes together.

‘Slowly. But I came up with something this afternoon’

‘Well?’

‘It’s only a line’

‘Tell me!’ Angie demands.

‘This year was the first spring in which the cherry blossom had bloomed early, leading to some confusion amongst the bees’

Angie stops drying the dishes.

‘That’s a great start, babe!’ she says.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, it’s rock and roll. I love it!’

Ben smiles as he hands her the last of the pots.

‘Just don’t get too interested in her’ Angie warns, and Ben laughs.

The low hanging lights in the kitchen flicker for a moment, like candles.

‘I have to check the battery bank tomorrow’ Ben mutters ‘I’ve taken out the dud but the charge is still down…’

‘Are the new panels working properly?’

‘Yeah, I think so. The regulator seems ok, but the voltage is low for some reason. Maybe it’s those city rail batteries. We should turn the external sensors off tonight, just in case.’

Seamus comes in again later, holding Ben’s phone.

‘It’s a good thing we can’t get any reception here’ Ben says ‘You use that thing more than I do!’

‘I saw Telescopium and Microscopium’ Seamus replies.

‘It’s a good app, isn’t it’ Ben nods ‘Did you see any shooting stars?’

‘It says the Perseids should have started, but I didn’t see anything’

‘I think they are more visible in the northern hemisphere, but sometimes you can get a stray…’

There is a thump and a large shadow lumbers past the windows.

‘Ramli’ Seamus says.

‘Now he won’t leave us alone!’ Angie says with an I-told-you-so look. She walks over to the stereo and changes the music as Seamus throws himself on the couch. A synthesizer pulses and the voice of Marianne Faithful breaks incongruously into the house. Ben rolls his eyes at Seamus.

‘In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town…’ Angie lip synchs with a devil may care glare at Ben ‘Do you remember? You played this for me in Paris on my 37th birthday’

‘You haven’t aged a day’ Ben grins.

‘Hah! Neither have you!’

‘Dad?’ Moya interjects.

‘Yes sweetheart’

‘Can I have some medsin for Bentley?’

Ben puts his feet up on the coffee table. The table is hewn from the same sleepers that frame the straw bale house.

‘Well, I don’t know dear. You’ll have to ask your mother’

Angie narrows her eyes at Ben.

‘What does Bentley need medicine for, darling?’

‘His baby sister is sick’

‘Really? What’s wrong with her?’

‘Bentley says she’s got a sore tummy. His mum wants to take her to see Nurse Gordon but Dinah is lame’

Angie frowns.

‘Nurse Gordon, I don’t know her’

‘Who’s Dinah?’ Ben asks.

‘Their horse’

‘Doesn’t his mum have a car?’

‘No’

Seamus looks up.

‘How old is Bentley?’

‘I don’t know. He’s big, like you’

Seamus snorts. ‘How come I haven’t seen him then?’ he asks skeptically.

‘Don’t know’

‘What about his family?’

‘He’s got lots of brothers and sisters’

‘What’s the baby’s name?’

‘Ruby’

‘Ruby!’ Seamus is scornful ‘You made that up!’

‘No I didn’t’ Moya pouts ‘Her name’s Ruby Bailey’ She turns to her mother.

Angie throws up her hands.

‘It’s bedtime, Moya. Let’s talk about the medicine tomorrow, ok? Why don’t you go and have a shower while the water’s still warm’

Moya glares at Seamus. Then she crosses the room to the bathroom and slams the door behind her. Seamus shrugs his shoulders.

‘And don’t forget to brush your teeth’ Angie calls out after her.

Moya’s bedroom is at the end of the house, above the living area. The flue from the wood fire passes through the room against the gable wall between the two windows. The roof slopes steeply down beside her bed. The room is cosy and warm but Moya is restless. She turns from side to side until she falls into an uneasy sleep, punctuated by a thumping sound that seems to echo through the walls. Thump thump. She tells herself not to be scared but the noise pursues her throughout the night, and her dreams are haunted and full of sorrow.

*

The night is cold. A shooting star arcs up from neck of the valley and fizzles out over the dark ridges.

Bentley pulls the blanket up around his neck. The blanket smells of flour. The verandah is hard underneath him and the air stings his cheeks and his ears. High above the valley a milky white ribbon is tied over the heavens. A crescent moon lies low over the horizon and the world is quiet.

Somewhere close to the cabin a pig grunts, setting off a low