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Imagination

by TheWorldIsMyLife


The tranquil, warm morning left no sounds but the tweeting of the birds and the tune of the wind chimes. Their garden was relatively small; the large tree occupied most of that space. Attached to a branch of the tree was a swing, which looked old and worn, and next to it was a small wooden table. An old washing line had sheets swaying from it near the table. Their house was punctuated a long line of neighbouring, uniform buildings but adjacent to their house was a vast, golden wheat field, feeling rather out of place. It wasn’t much, but they made it home. 

Suddenly, the latch on their back door was opened and a small boy, perhaps the age of seven, wandered out, disturbing the wind chimes as he shut the door behind him. His hair was blond and of a standard length for a boy of his age yet his height wasn’t so average. The child seemed very small for his age and rather skinny. He took a sip from the juice he’d been carrying then set the Mason jar down on the table beside the tree. The substance was a golden colour, perhaps an orange smoothie of some description, and a blue and white striped straw poked out of it.

His expression as he stared up at the tree was dismayed, not matching the brightness of his large blue eyes. Any other child would be happy to sit on a swing in their garden but he only sighed as he sat down. The swing bored him, as if he hadn’t varied his activity all summer, and he took the occasional sip of his juice, not really seeming phased by that either. It was actually hard to tell if he looked sad or expressionless. But then he glanced over to the wheat field with longing in his shining eyes. He set down his Mason jar again and stood up, creeping over to the gate leading to the field.

First, he checked through the window that his mother wasn’t watching then he opened the latch on the gate. He felt free and he ran. He held his arms in the air like wings, feeling the wind glide past his body as he ran through the golden wheat. Unexpectedly, an explosion of magic erupted from his heart and pink elephants, blue tigers and purple cheetahs all ran alongside him. Each one was connected by a thin glittered ribbon to the boy’s heart as they all charged through the field. It was an incredible sight to watch, the different coloured animals following their young master. The grin on his face was so wide that you’d wonder if he was still the same child that stared up at the tree only an hour or so before. He felt as if he could conquer the world. As if nothing could stop him. It was like he’d escaped to his own little world. Soon, they stopped running and he lay down in the wheat, hidden from everything. The animals around him sat or slowly wandered around, never straying far from his side. He lay there in silence at first, the smile never evading his face. Then he sat up, playing with the growing wheat and talking to the animals. They didn’t talk back, but he pretended they were listening anyway. They stayed like that for hours, basking in the glorious August sun, until the sky covered itself in red, orange and pink blankets, preparing itself for nightfall. The boy stood, ready to return home, and ran the same way he did before. Despite the fact that he was going home, he didn’t feel any less free. He felt unstoppable, fuelled by the power of his imagination and dreams which ran beside him. No one could put him down or tell him he was a freak. He would always win.

The animals glided back into his chest, disappearing from view, and the boy opened the gate again before taking his juice and heading back inside the house. His mother fed him dinner and, although the boy couldn’t tell, his mother was fully aware of what he did every day. She never stopped him. She felt he deserved to dream.

It was about half past ten when his mother took him upstairs to bed. He wasn’t a child to go to bed early. He had trouble sleeping usually so he would stay up for as long as he could before he got tired. His mother tucked him into bed, planting a kiss on his forehead before turning out the light and closing the door. The darkness of his room seemed to make everything more silent and he curled up under his blanket, his eyes shut tight as if he was shutting out his fear as he listened out for the wind chimes as something to concentrate on. Just as he fell asleep, clowns and men with balaclavas burst out of his head to stand by his bed. The boy squealed as he saw them and they all revealed their faces, taking their balaclavas off. They all held knives as they approached him, making him scream and bring his knees up to his chest for protection. He recognised one of the men as his father, whom he hadn’t seen for years. The look of hatred on his father’s face made the boy cry although he recognised the expression too well. The clowns and the men held their knives closer to his face until the door was opened by his mother and they all flew back into his head. His mother stared down at his teary face, feeling just as saddened as he was by her son’s fear. She held him as he cried and he asked why his father hated them. She didn’t have an answer for him.

In the morning, he wandered slowly downstairs and was met by a hug from his mother followed by a bowl of cornflakes for him. His day started the same way as it always did. He returned to the swing and sat there, imagining running further than ever. Imagining all the animals running with him to a new land where no one killed and no one hated and no one hurt. A land of joy and freedom and protection. A land of love. 


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Points: 415
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Wed Aug 24, 2016 11:07 am
Petalstar125 wrote a review...



Wow! Your short story is seriously packed with tension and wondering. (Also this may be just me, but I'm terrified of clowns, so anything with clowns in it and someone terrified of them, I can understand). This leaves a lot to the reader to determine, such as what is causing the boy to be the way he is, and what is going on with his father.

All in all, this story is amazing!






The element of wonder after finishing the story was what I was intending so I'm glad it's come across in a good way - I'm glad you enjoyed my story :) have a nice day!



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Wed Aug 24, 2016 12:30 am
Holysocks wrote a review...



Hey there!

I love this sort of glimpse into a child's imagination. First we have in the day time, him playing and having a brilliant time with his own imaginings. Then we have the night where he imagines horrible things coming against him- including a more realistic depiction of his father and what's happening in the kid's life, which I thought was really interesting because it really tied the visions to things that kids have to deal with, I guess? It just made it feel quite real... especially since most kids are afraid of the dark and things they feel are lurking in the dark. So, Awesome job!

I felt you could have given us a stronger hook at the beginning though. Starting off with a description of the environment is alright, but it doesn't really interest us a great deal. Start off with the story- ask yourself: what are people going to read this for? I often get really into a book when the writer starts out with the character, and what the character's doing- so you're not far off- maybe start off when the boy is running through the field with the animals? I think that would pull us into your story a little more.

but they made it home. Suddenly, the latch


I found this transition a bit, well, sudden! :P And frankly unrelated to the paragraph it's in- it might run a little smoother if you start a new paragraph after "but they made it home." because that feels pretty finale to me anyway.

disturbing the wind chimes as he shut the door behind him.


I thought this was a great image! My grandma's house used to have wind chimes by the door so I could really see what you meant by that and it was lovely.

He took a sip from the juice he’d been carrying then set the Mason jar down on the table beside the tree.


This is a nice line, except things suddenly started appearing out of thin air. It's a lot more effective to say something is there before you use it in your picture, because if you just start using things that we didn't know were there, it makes us feel a little cheated, like you're just making stuff up as you go (of course you're making it up as you go, but it feels better when we know what's all there...). This isn't as obvious here as say, some writers will have their character facing a monster, with no means of escape, and suddenly they're holding a gun that they never had for the last ninety pages of the book! But still, it really is best to somehow mention things that the characters may interact with before they interact with them.

Each one was connected by a thin glittered ribbon to the boy’s heart as they all charged through the field.


Once again, I love this little window into the child's imagination! It's just really cool because you made it out to be that they were real, but at the same time imaginary, and I thought it really worked well.

Keep it up! C:

-Socks






Hi :) thanks for reviewing my story. It's interesting to get different views from readers because, obviously, I know what's going on but I need to remember that the only way the reader will know is if I tell them hehe.
I'm glad you enjoyed it :3 Have a good day :)



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Tue Aug 23, 2016 4:15 pm
JessicaMoon wrote a review...



Hey! I saw there wasn't a review yet, so I will give you some feedback.
Overall, the story is very, very good.
There are a couple spelling and grammatical errors (even though I am not very good grammar). Some of the sentences are run-ons, but I am sure that you will be able to find them without a problem. One suggestion I would make, is read your writing backwards. I am sure you have hear this a million and one times. If you read it backwards, it will open your mind up to better detect the errors in your writing.
The word "recognised" is actually recognized.
I also noticed that you used the British spelling or Color, so I am not sure if you did the same for other words.
Also the father ? That is something that could have some addition to. It sort of was the little piece that you put in, but hoped that others wouldn't notice that you did not know how to continue the background of the boy's past.
What if you had the mother tell the boy of what happened to the father? What if that caused the boy to have a connection to the swing? Why did the boy find the swing so boring? What is maybe a connection to his father? Why did he feel the need to sneak out instead of just telling his mother where he was going? Why did the mother put the child to bed so late?
Just food for though =)

One aspect of the story I enjoyed, is the fact that you did not use any names for your characters. This leaves a kind of mystery to it. You did well in the case of allowing the reader to wander just as the little boy did.
I found myself connecting with the boy, even though I don't personally live on a farm or a rural area.
I did also like the tie in, wrap around, you did at the end. That was cool to see the connection to the field. Where the boy could only find solace in something he could only see.

Keep Writing!!






Hi :) Thanks for the review - I have used British spellings throughout but I will check my grammar and stuff. I appreciate you taking the time to review my story and I'm glad you liked it :3
Have a nice day :)




One is not born, but rather becomes a woman.
— Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex