The room lays in complete darkness, save for the filtered moonlight, pouring through the window. Upon a bed, a child lies prostrate with her head buried in a pillow. Her eyes are wet with the deluge of tears that she rains down upon her bed linen and her backside aches from the punishment she had to endure.
She does not see the curtains blowing in the wind, or the window opening, seemingly of its own accord, as within the bedroom steps a warm silhouette, a feminine form, framed by the dancing drapes. "I'm here child," a soft, lyrical voice plays upon the wind, before resting upon the child's ear.
"No, no, no!" the child's shuts are muffled as she buries her head in her pillow.
The woman sits down on the bed and gently touches the girl's shoulder, causing her muscles to tense from the sudden sensation, but she quickly recovers and launches herself into the open arms of her nighttime guest. They hold each other close as the sobbing child pours out her sorrows.
"There, there," the adult speaks softly, as she pets the girl's head. "I know it's hard, but I'm here for you."
The sobbing lets up some, as the girl is comforted by the warm embrace and, after several moments pass, she lifts her head and stares into the eyes of her comforter. "Father says-" she begins in a cracking voice, that does not allow her to continue.
"Now now," the woman soothes her and rubs her back. "I know all about it."
The girl eases herself from her tears and stares wide eyed. "You're a lie!" she suddenly shouts and pushes away.
The woman is shocked by the sudden outburst. "Please child," she edges in with some delicacy and keeps her arms outstretched. "You can't mean that."
"Father says you're a lie and I'm a liar!" the girl carries on, her voice raising with each word uttered as she shakes her head. "He says you're fake and I made you up!"
"Come dear," the woman coaxes the child who has created a rift between them as she tries ever so delicately to draw near.
The girl turns back to her moist pillow. "Go away! Go away!" the girl shouts, as she buries her head deeper and deeper.
The woman reaches out a hand toward the inconsolable child, but stops just before she makes contact. She does not want to incur anymore pain. "It's not your fault," she assures the little girl and lets up a sigh.
The child tries to keep out the voice, but she hears it anyway and with it a strange power overwhelms her and soothes her to sleep.
After which, her guest rises and begins to fade. "Sleep now child and know that the responsible party will be made to account for his actions," she assures before leaving the way she had come in.
The fire dances about in the fireplace while a man sits in a chair facing it, a drink in his hand. He holds it merely as a comfort, as he has not once taken a drink. His empty hand throbs, a reminder of the deed he so desperately wishes to forget. He stares into the flames as he tries to lose himself in thought.
All at once, the French doors off to the side burst open and a stiff wind blows through the room, extinguishing the flame, bathing the room in shadow. The man leaps from his chair and turns about, dropping his drink in the process, the glass shattering on the hard floor. His eyes fight against the lack of light, but it is not necessary.
Before him stands a strange luminescent woman, who possesses a muted light. She drifts through the open portal with billowing curtains and walks across the room, stopping before the dark fireplace. She leans her considerable height against the mantle and looks into the smoldering fire. She stays that way for sometime.
The man has no idea what is happening or what he should do about it. The only thing that is clear to him is this is no ordinary trespasser or burglar for that matter. He is not sure who this is, but he understands right away to tread lightly. At least, that is, till he is able to get hold of the poker that lies behind the figure.
The woman turns around abruptly, her shimmering gown swishing with the action. "You had to interfere, didn't you?" she speaks as she glares at the occupant with ice blue eyes.
The man is speechless as he takes in this most resplendent of creatures while fighting to remember that he is in danger. And yet, he can't help but feel as though he has seen her before. .
"What harm was there in her having a supposed imaginary friend?" she demands and places both her fists on her hips.
"You…" is all the man can manage as his mind flashes back to when he first learned his daughter had an imaginary friend and the picture she drew of her, before she started insisting she was real.
He can see it clearly in his mind's eye. A woman with silver tiara and stark white hair twisted around into a long braid that sweeps the floor. A blue dress that is transparent yet reveals nothing as it hides a skin that glows like it were made of the moon, including the first thing he noticed, an ample bosom.
An odd little detail that he brought up with his progeny who simply nodded and declared them big boobies which she assumed meant she must have a lot of kids. Most of all though, the figure in the drawing was much taller than his own depiction in crude crayon, a detail he assumed was just a miss-characterization.
"I? I am the figment, aren't I?" the woman challenges and gives a slight sneer, the only blemish in her flawless complexion. "I'm the one your daughter lied about, didn't she? Yet, now you see me, standing here, don't you?"
"But you can't be real," the man is barely able to choke out as he fights against his wobbly legs. "Who are you?"
"In days of old I was a goddess. Revered and worshiped as part of the moon. One and the same, inseparable. And I had so many names, each of them so beautiful," the woman loses herself to nostalgia and memory as she paces to and fro in front of the fireplace. "But then you people stopped believing in the power of natural forces and started studying them instead. You questioned everything and accepted nothing." She strikes the mantle with a heavy hand that leaves a slight indentation in the marble. "During those days I stopped being a goddess as I no longer had the power to sway people with my words which were no longer carried out as law. And it all came to a head when a blade was raised against me and I was wounded. Gods do not bleed, but I do. I had to flee for fear of my life and I returned to my home, the moon." She traipses to a nearby window and looks out at the bright celestial sphere. "I stayed there free from your people's infernal meddling. But then, you couldn't leave well enough alone. You just had to claim the moon for your own as well. I knew then that there was nowhere I would be safe. I could flee to the most remote part of the universe, but you would be there soon enough." She turns toward him again. "Like you humans, I had to accept that my days are numbered and one day there would come a one who was not swayed by the enchantment of beauty and slay me outright."
A long period of silence follows.
The man looks to the poker if only he were just a bit closer, but it is difficult to hold a nefarious thought against so strong a specimen. "Why then, have you revealed yourself?" the man asks with a diminutive voice hoping to keep her talking as he inches his way close to the only weapon in the room.
"Because you have forced my hand," the woman launches into her explanation and turns fully on him. "I was content playing simple games, with a simple girl, hiding my presence from the rest of the world. Allowing people like you, to have your neat little reality, but this was not enough for you, was it?" She looks to the ceiling. "You couldn't let your daughter have her own silly little fantasy." Shne returns to him. "But I simply cannot allow people like you, who insist that everyone see reality as you do, hurt the dreamers of this world. So, I stand before you and now, even you cannot deny my existence."
The man swallows hard.
"I even sat idly by as you punished her. I knew she could bear it," the woman proceeds and advances upon him. "But your words hurt her far greater than your hand ever could. You labeled her a liar and it weighs heavily upon her. She simply cannot accept her father calling her a liar. As such, she will refute anything that she knows will displease you, no matter how much she believes it to be true. So I ask you, am I fake? Am I the figment of a little girl's overworked imagination?"
There is a long, awkward pause. "No," the man finally manages as he gives up entirely on enacting violence against this resplendent figure, whom he cannot see covered in blood as he planned to do.
"No?!" the woman erupts before adopting a more tranquil tone as the fire dies down in her eyes. "Now, you are the liar."
The man is speechless, but then there's nothing left to say. Finally he swallows. "What will you do?" he asks, fearing the answer as he takes a hard swallow.
"I?" The woman says as she leans forward. "I, will do nothing. You, have already done enough damage." With these words her visage wavers before dissipating.
The room is now empty, save for the man who stands completely in awe of what had transpired and only half believing what he witnessed.
He looks to the stairs, he knows what he has to do, but he doesn't know how. Slowly, he makes his way to the upper floor, each step harder than the last and pulling on his person with more than just gravity. He stops in front of her bedroom door and knocks. There's no response. He knocks again while he opens the door.
"Suzy, baby," he calls to the dimly lit room and advances inside.
"Daddy?" comes an uncertain voice from within.
The man draws near and beholds his daughter, sitting on the bed. He sits down beside her and places his arm around her and she gives him a big hug.
"Daddy," she says as the tears flow anew.
"It's okay baby," he assures her and holds her close. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have forced my opinion on you. If you want to have an imaginary friend, well, that's just fine with me."
"You mean it?" the girl asks as she perks up.
"I do baby cakes," he returns and gives her a kiss on the forehead. "Just do me a favor, remember that you're the only one who can see or hear her. Okay?"
"Oh, daddy!" the girl bursts forth as she throws her arms around his neck and gives him a squeeze." I promise I will." She squeezes him all the more while a glint catches her eye, an image of a woman within the glass of her window, who is waving and smiling. She smiles back.
"Now," her father says and pushes her back. "It's time for you to go to bed."
They bid each other goodnight and he leaves the room.
He starts down the stairs. "Good," a voice enters his ears. "Now don't do it again."
He nods and carries on his way.
His world has been shaken this night and he needs to rearrange it without it falling completely to pieces. So, he cleans up the broken glass and scrubs the drink from the floor. It leaves a stain which will be there for years to come. After which, he sits himself down, folds his hands and leans forward. He has a lot of thinking to do.