This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. This week’s prompt was provided by me.
“It’s just your eyes playing tricks on you,” everyone always told her. “None of it’s real.” Even her grandmother – who told the most wonderful stories – had always waved a dismissive hand and said, “Your imagination is running away with you again, my girl.”
She hadn’t believed them. Not as a laughing five-year old who watched fairies dance among the wildflowers. Not as a twelve-year old who’d befriended a scarecrow and had adventures with goblins. And not as a twenty-year old forced to sit on the shrink’s couch.
Her ability to see a world invisible to other eyes was no longer viewed as childish imagination – now the words ‘hallucination’ and ‘delusion’ were frequently whispered.
“No,” she told the psychiatrist. “I’ve not seen a thing in months.”
Tonight she’d wash another jar of pills down the sink – she knew her mind better then any doctor ever could. Tomorrow she’d visit with her friends.
Old Aubrey the scarecrow waved from his field as she walked down the long path home. Smiling, she waved back.
Word Count: 175
To view the other entries, click the blue frog.
In case anyone is curious, the photograph was taken in Cornwall in the little village of Lizard on the Lizard peninsula, the most southerly place on mainland Britain. There were several scarecrows around the village – the result, we discovered, of a recent scarecrow festival. Unfortunately I only managed to photograph three of them as I only spotted the rest from the car as we drove away. Here are the other two: