Ghost Friend

As a child I had a friend. A friend who my parents and siblings often joked about as I grew up. To them she was just a figment of my mind, my imaginary friend. Her name was Katy, and I can’t remember how long I had known her, probably since my birth. For a time we were the same age, but growing up, growing taller she couldn’t. I’d ask her to show herself just once to my older sister so the mocking could stop, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t I still don’t really know.

I had almost forgotten about her, till now. As soon as I saw that hose in the window of the estate agents, I was right in there asking for a viewing. The street so familiar to me, as some 25years ago. The houses still looked the same I thought as I pulled into the street. White stone steps leading up to a huge entrance and porch. Old Georgian style windows, high ceilings, cellar and a attic with plenty of room at the top. My secret den.

Some of my best childhood memories had been here, here in this house, here with Katy.

And then one day we moved. My father loosing his job had meant we had to relocate to where the work was, only for me to come back here with my job this last week.

I can remember her in the attic window. Katy with her long fair hair tied with red ribbons, skin whiter than white, looking thin and drawn as she cried her goodbye. I had begged her to come with me.

My sister had poked fun at me as I waved back and cried. Mum had told her to shut up. My older brother peter held on to my hand and promised me that Katy my ‘imaginary’ friend would know the way to our new house and would be waiting for us right there.

Little did they know, she couldn’t leave the house, she was locked in time. Frozen in this house, I think, wondering if she is still here as I park the car opposite the house and get out. Leaning against the car and looking up at the small attic window. Waiting for the estate agent to arrive. The For Sale sign outside the house, empty and looking old, in need of some care and attention.

I couldn’t believe it when I saw it in the window of the estate agents. I just had to have a look inside, see if she was still there. Just to see if I could still feel her presence or if she really did only show herself to small children. And that smell of soft soap that I would sometimes smell when she was around. How I haven’t smelt it since we left. As Katy never did appear suddenly at our new house, and my family never heard me mention my so called ‘imaginary friend’ again.

The End

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