Damian's Imagination

Silence reigned. Lindsay sank onto the couch and set her feet on one of the moving boxes currently occupying the space of the coffee table. She grimaced, remembering the broken table sitting in the garage and wondering if complaining to the moving company would be worth it.

Forcing such thoughts from her mind, she pulled the pile of completed homework to her. Damian’s tenth birthday was only a week away, but she still found it necessary to be sure he filled in the math problems with numbers and not doodles of chickens with tomahawks or turtles with hand grenades. Her son’s imagination resulted in far too many phone calls home and she didn’t want the same thing happening at his new school.

“Mommy!”

From the computer desk, Derek shifted to look at her and be sure she’d heard their son’s call. She lowered the papers in silent acknowledgement. Derek smiled at her before his attention returned to the numbers on the screen.

“Mom! Help!”

Her son’s cry overwhelmed her reluctance to leave her seat and she pulled herself off the couch and down the hall. “What, Damian?” she asked, hovering in the doorway.

“She’s in my closet,” he whispered, pulling his blanket up to his nose.

Lindsay shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Damian’s imagination, she thought, tucking her exasperation aside. Her mother always laughed about her own wild imagination whenever she complained about Damian’s behavior. “Who’s in your closet?”

“The demon squirrel,” Damian said, wide eyes reflecting the hallway’s light.

“A demon squirrel?”

The nine-year old boy nodded. “Her name is Darkinstormy.”

“Darkinstormy,” Lindsay repeated, once again amazed at her son’s wild stories. “As in ‘dark and stormy night’?”

“Don’t say her full name,” Damian squeaked and pulled the covers over her head. “You’ll make her angry.”

Successful in restraining the urge to laugh, Lindsay crossed the room and sat at her son’s side to pull the blanket down. “Okay, Damian, how do we get her out of the closet?” At least Damian always had an escape clause in mind for his most recent horrific imaginings.

“Nuts,” he said.

“Nuts?”

He nodded. “Put them in a bowl by the closet. She’ll eat them and go away.”

“Then I shall go get a bowl of nuts,” Lindsay promised, already on her feet to do just that.

She went into the kitchen, the only room fully unpacked, and shuffled through the cupboards to find something to appease the demon squirrel. She fished out a Styrofoam bowl and a half-melted bag of chocolate covered peanuts from their road trip leftovers. "What did he want?" Derek asked.

"There's a demon squirrel in his closet named Darkinstormy Night," she answered.

"So what are you doing?"

"Chocolate nuts." She shook the bowl, now full with the snack. "To appease the demon."

Derek chuckled as he hunched over the desk once more.

“Will this do?” she asked, returning to Damian's room.

Damian nodded, still tucked safely under his blanket with only his nose in sight. Lindsay stuck the bowl near the closet and made a mental note to remove it once Damian fell asleep to avoid ants. Bugs hadn’t been such an issue in California, but they were here. “Good night, Damian,” she said, closing the door behind her.

“You’re just making things worse,” Derek commented as she sat back at the couch and picked up the homework once again.

Lindsay only smiled. “He has an imagination, Derek. There is nothing wrong with that.” There really wasn't, she thought, finding a picture of Damian dressed as a superhero displayed on the margin of his spelling homework. She picked up the eraser and paused, looking over the correctly spelled words. "On second thought," she murmured and set it aside. If his teachers had a problem with a little imagination, she could deal with it.




Written for "The Writer's Cramp"  [13+], 8/16/2011 prompt
Word Count: 639