Edward.

This story is dedicated to the painted man on my wall whose name tonight I found out was Edward.


Edward.
(513 words)
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There is a man in my room. He is not dangerous, nor is he very social. He is almost a shadow. He is dressed in very dark blue, and he sits at my desk when I am asleep. He write poetry for me. I call him Edward, and he wears an orange fedora, a green bow tie and smokes an orange pipe. He has a long nose and he doesn't talk to my friends. He says it's because he's not real, but I say he's just shy. He has his own friends, the ones up in his funny brain. He never talks out loud but sometimes I see him chuckle to himself when he thinks I'm not looking.
Edward has taught me how to stay very still, and how to keep very quiet. Some times I fall asleep trying to stay as still as he does. He taught me how to meditate and to smile when I'm sad.
I talk to him with my mind but he never answers, he just writes them down at his little blue desk, like he's learning something at school. That makes me laugh! The idea of big man Edward in a little child's desk.
My mom talks to Edward too. In the mornings when she comes to wake me up she says "Good morning Abbey. Good morning Edward." In my mind he tips his hat and says "Morning, Ma'am." Like the men in the market do. One day I realized maybe Edward doesn't speak because, he has no mouth. I offered to draw him one on, but he said no. He said he'd rather have a thought bubble over his head because then he could talk but not make any noise. So I drew him a bright orange thought bubble, to match his hat and pipe.
Now when I go to sleep, he always thinks "Good night."
My friends sometimes notice that he's there, but other times they look at the art around him. I painted pictures and quotes and hung paintings there too. His favorites are the ones of the birds. The are flowers on the wall too, but flowers make him sneeze. Across from him and above my bed there is a portal to Paris, France. I made it with my magic powers. I can fly through the portal if I wanted. Edward can't though, because he is scared of heights. I bring him back pastries and chocolates and we share them over tea. It's nice to be able to fly to Paris and to have a friend, even if he can't come with me.
In a week we will paint my bedroom, and Edward will disappear. I'm turning twelve next year, and dad says Edward is old and tired and I am too old as well. I said let's paint around him and just let him sleep here. But dad said no.
So now there is no more Edward. There is only a blank blue wall. But there's a crack in the ceiling that looks just like a narwhal.
And his name is Francis. 
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-Jessica Baker-