Friday, April 23, 2010

Telling Tales




The following is a work of fiction.

Telling Tales

Timothy barged into the house swinging the screen door loudly on its hinges. "Mom, Mom, Come look! You have to see. I caught a baby dragon!"

Timothy's mother rolled her eyes and patted his head. "Timmy, how often do I have to tell you not to tell lies?"

"But Mom I really did!

"I don't want to hear another word!" She was looking rather fierce now, and it caused him to recoil.

Timothy slumped his shoulders and made his way back outside. He bent low examining his makeshift cage. It was just an old sand pail, but it was as fine a cage for a baby dragon he was going to get in a pinch. He looked inside to see the tiny baby dragon staring back at him trying to claw its way back up the sides of the blue sand pail. "She didn't believe me," he said sadly to the little lizard. He carefully tipped the pail to let his dragon escape.

The next day he was exploring the woods around the back of his house. He stopped short when he saw something glinting in the black dirt. He dug with his fingertips until he exposed a large plastic gem. He looked around and quickly buried it once more. He went rushing into the kitchen where his mother was doing the dishes.
"Mom, guess what?"

"hmm?" His mother was concentrating on a particularly stubborn grease stain on her cooking pot.

"I found some pirate treasure. It was a really big diamond, and I wanted to take it, but I put it back in case the pirates came back and found out it was me!"

"Timothy James! I have had quite enough. Every single day you come in here and tell me some new tall tale. Go and find yourself some friends, and quite pestering me with your lies!"

That mother didn't remember when she used to be a princess. She didn't remember finding her own dragon. She didn't remember ever becoming a mighty sorceress or becoming a pirate herself. It was she who buried the plastic gem. Timothy inherited her vivid imagination, but her imagination never had a chance. Timothy's did not either for his mother had become her own mother.

The End

10 comments:

WELCOME TO MY WORLD OF POETRY: said...

A wonderful story, it's like children to have vivid imaginations as long they don't go into adulthood,

Thanks for stopping by, you asked where the pictures were well it is a place called "Christchurch" Dorset UK. It's not far from where I live.

Enjoy the week-end,
Yvonne,

melodygreen said...

Oh, thanks for this story! I have a little boy who could be Timmy and has an amazing imagination. :) I am trying my best to encourage it... even through the times I can't join in I am not about to tell him his stories are untrue. I needed some reminders today of just how important that is. :) I love my dreamy imaginative boy... I just wonder at how much imagination gets squashed out of kids as they get older, and not just by parents.

arlee bird said...

What a wonderful story. I was kind of the opposite with my kids. I would tell them the craziest stories and make up games with them. They have all turned out to be very creative, artistic, and appreciative of the arts. Parents need to play with their kids sometimes -- there's always plenty of time for reality later.

Lee
A to Z Challenge Reflections Mega Post

Grammy said...

I agree with Lee, let them use the imagination. That is where the storytellers come from. I love the story and the sadness of it is so true. I want him to dig up the plastic egg and show it to her.
Ruby

Lisa said...

Very nice and packed a truthful punch too.

Not enough hours! said...

The last paragraph is the best - so very true.

~ Rayna

Peggy said...

Marjorie, I hope this story has a happy ending!

Stephen T. McCarthy said...

MARJORIE ~
My parents were the opposite: they never discouraged and often encouraged my imagination. My Ma used to take time out in the middle of the day to tell us stories and my Pa used to wake us up for school by blasting Roger Miller's song "You Can't Roller Skate In A Buffalo Herd." And that's why...

...it ain't my fault that I turned out so weird.

Good stuffs there, Marjorie! Good stuffs!

~ "Lonesome Dogg" McMe

Watery Tart said...

Oh, what a sad story! Marjorie, you did a fabulous job with this! And it is a good reminder as moms to remember there is a distinction between lies and that BEAUTIFUL gift of imagination!

Marjorie said...

@ Yvonne- Some adults have imagination. I wish mine were more developed.

@ Melody- I love little boys. They really are very imaginative and rowdy.

@ Lee- I'm glad that you recognized that it was important to foster your children's imaginations. Good for you!

@ Grammy- I wished that too, but I think the mother would not have remembered it anyway.

@ Lisa- I really tried to get some truth in there. Something that says something about the importance of not discouraging imagination.

@ Natasha- I'm glad you thought so, because I felt it was the most imporatant one.

@ Mom- I hope so too, but I felt it was more important to drive home a point with the ending I chose.

@ Stephan- Well, I'm glad you turned out so weird then, and I'm glad you think this is "good stuffs."

@ Tami- I wrote this story in honor of my nephew who has a very ridiculous teacher that keeps telling him that his imaginative stories are lies and tall tales.