Imaginary Friends: A Short Story

By Amalia Dillin

A Short Story from the Author of the Fate of the Gods trilogy and the Orc Saga.

 After her mother's death, a lonely little girl imagines herself a friend named Donar to chase away her fears at night. There's nothing strange about that, exactly. He tucks her in at night when her father is working late, and tells her stories about golden boars and magic cloaks made of feathers that allow a person to fly. When Donar is with her, she knows she'll always be safe.

 Then she grows up.

 But her supposedly *imaginary* friend? He's still with her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thorskona Books
• Release date: Apr 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386028604

Book preview

Six

I WOKE TO A CREAK OF floorboards and pulled the blanket up over my head, holding my breath while I listened hard. My mind whirled with men in black, faces masked, creeping through the house. Daddy, why did you leave me alone? He’d come home and find me gone, stolen away with the furniture and the television and the oven and all my toys.

I hiccupped on a sob and everything swam with tears. I wanted my daddy. I wanted my mommy, who was never coming back. I wanted someone, anyone, to keep away the noises in the night. I didn’t want to be stolen away!

Shh, a voice said, low and soothing. I’m here. It was just the house settling, nothing more.

I peeked out from underneath the blanket and the mattress groaned softly as a weight settled beside me. A warm hand touched my shoulder and I saw the shape of a man. Donar. My hero. My protector. My friend. The tightness in my throat eased and I pulled the blanket down, gasping for fresh air.

Go back to sleep, Anna, the shape said, a finger brushing the tears from my cheek, making my skin tingle. You’re not alone.

Even though it was a lie, I believed him. Donar was always right.

Nine

I’LL BE BACK TO TAKE you to school in the morning, Daddy said, tucking me into bed. If you need anything, you call Mrs. Philips next door, all right? The number is right here, next to the phone. He held up the receiver, then set it down on my nightstand. Sleep tight. He kissed my forehead. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.

Good night, Daddy. I hugged his neck. See you in the morning light.

He turned out the lamp and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving only the whirling rainbow glow of the nightlight. Footsteps shifting from carpet to linoleum, the jingle of his keys, the door opening, then closing, and the click of the lock. I threw off the blanket and went to the window, watching him back out of the driveway, the headlights flashing in the rain.

Aren’t you supposed to be in bed? Donar asked.

I made a face at his reflection in the glass. I just wanted to see Daddy.

He ruffled my hair. Now you’ve seen him off, back under the blankets.

I sighed and crawled into my bed. Will you tell me a story, at least?

Of course. He tucked the blankets under my chin and sat down at the foot of the bed. Which story would you like to hear?

This was our ritual, Donar’s and mine, and I couldn’t sleep without it on the nights that Daddy left me to work. He