I grew up in the shadow of that fence, wondering what might lie behind it. I invented characters, created worlds. I remember standing at its foot, calling out, hollering the names of my imaginary friends. No one ever answered of course, not in real life, but I heard their replies back then. I made loads of friends like that; fairies, dwarves, elves.
Now, as I stand here, peering over the fence, it all comes back to me. It turns out there’s nothing behind it; just a rusty shed and an overgrown garden; millions of dollars wasted away by decay.
For Friday Fictioneers.
I wanted to go for some fantasy this week, but it wouldn’t come to me! Hope you like the alternative.