fiction - brigits_flame - Nine Lives

[hwango]

The siren allure of coffee called out to Alex, and he found that he could not resist, no matter how soft his pillow might be. Barely awake, he plodded down the stairs largely oblivious to his surroundings. Certainly he failed to notice the chair until it was too late. The pain from the stubbed toe catapulted him to full wakefulness even as his reflexes sent him careening backwards into the wall, where a sharp blow to the head nearly sent him back to unconsciousness. He cursed incoherently he tried to clutch at both his wounded toe and head without losing his balance again. Meanwhile, the chair had leapt to its feet and skittered across the kitchen to cower next to the refrigerator.

"Good morning," Claire said after she finished chewing a bite of her toast. Through the haze of pain, Alex tried to focus on her voice, but his attention kept slipping back towards the coffee maker.

"It's too early for it to be morning," he said, staggering towards the coffee.

"Try not to burn yourself. You seem a bit damage-prone this morning," Claire said.

"It's not my fault the damned chair decided to sleep at the bottom of the stairs," Alex retorted. He sipped his coffee and tried to fool himself into thinking it made him feel better. "I can't believe I just said that. This is getting out of hand."

"I agree. I think it's time have a serious talk about this with your son, and we should figure out what we're going to say before we do."

"I'm just his father - you're the one who spent nine months putting him together." There was no venom behind the words though, for Alex loved the boy, and knew that Claire did as well. But whether she was subconsciously assigning blame or just reminding him of his responsibility as a parent, Alex was always quick to remind her that she shared both with him.

Alex drank some more coffee. Claire took a bite of her toast.

"Alex…what are we going to say?"

"I have no idea."

* * *

As they approached Tommy's room, they could hear that he was already awake and playing with his toys.

"Brace the southern wall – it is from that direction that I believe the dragon is most likely to make his approach!" said a gravelly but cultured voice. Claire pushed open the door to see Tommy sitting on the floor building a castle out of wooden blocks. Assisting him was his ever-present companion, Sir Grizzles. Sir Grizzles noticed Alex and Claire before Tommy did.

"Good day to you, my lord and lady," the stuffed bear said politely as he bowed. In spite of themselves, Alex and Claire could not help but smile. Sir Grizzles had been the first, and by now they'd grown so used to him that he was practically part of the family. It helped that he was so polite, and it was adorable when he bowed to you.

"Hi Mom, hi Dad!" Tommy said. "We're building a castle, but we have to be quick before the dragon comes!" From elsewhere in the room they all heard the muffled roar of a plastic pterodactyl. No doubt he'd be playing the part of the dragon.

"That's nice, Tommy," Claire said. And then, because it always felt rude if they ignored him, "Hello, Sir Grizzles." In fact, Claire suddenly realized that they couldn't really have this talk with him present. It would be too weird. "Sir Grizzles, Tommy's father and I need to have a little talk with Tommy. Would you mind waiting outside?"

"Of course, my lady. I shall defend the gates against any intruders with my dying breath!" Sir Grizzles said, and he scurried outside and stood in the middle of the hallway, his tiny plastic eyes alert for any sign of invading hordes.

Alex closed the door and sat on the bed. Claire perched on the only chair.

Tommy looked a little confused – he could clearly tell that something was up. Best to get started before he got upset.

"Tommy, a powerful imagination is a wonderful thing, and you're very lucky," Claire said. "We're both so proud of you, and we think it's wonderful what you can do." This last was only half true, of course. It was true that it inspired wonder, after all, but whether they were actually happy about it was a much more complicated matter.

"The thing is, kiddo," Alex said, "It's time you realize that your imagination might be a…bit more powerful than normal. And we think you should start being a bit more careful with it."

"What do you mean?" Tommy asked.

"The thing is, Tommy, when most kids imagine things, they're only real for them, and only in their minds, and only for a little while. It's…it's just pretend, you see," Claire said.

"For most kids, Sir Grizzles wouldn't actually be able to walk around and talk. They'd just pretend that he could."

"Okay," Tommy said. They could tell that he was skeptical about this, but his limited interaction with other children did seem to back up what they were saying.

"Sir Grizzles is fine. And Captain Quacky, and your dinosaur and the other toys."

"But those are your toys, and you can do whatever you want with them. But other stuff around the house – things that we use - they can be uncooperative and difficult to use anymore. Like the washing machine, or that chair in the kitchen, or…or the vacuum." The vacuum was a particularly troubling one. It was something both parents were sorely tempted to replace. But Alex and Clair took turns doing the cleaning, and neither wanted to be the one to admit how badly it unsettled them to use an appliance that did its job with quite as much enthusiasm and aggression as the vacuum did. At least it didn't talk. It did growl an awful lot, though.

"Oh," Tommy said. He didn't seem upset by what they were saying, but something else seemed to be wrong.

"Are you okay, honey? What's wrong?" Claire asked.

"I think I…um…might have done it again," Tommy said. Alex quietly prayed that it was another of his toys, or at the very least that it wasn't something dangerous like the lawnmower.

"To what?" Alex asked warily.

* * *

Alex and Claire stood outside the door to the garage. Neither of them wanted to be the one to open it. Alex looked sadly at the minivan parked in the driveway, and experienced a quiet moment of resentment that of the two vehicles in the family, his had looked cooler. From inside the garage they heard a low, mechanical growl. Alex turned to Claire and tried to think what to say. Finally, he decided on what seemed like the only reasonable way to sum up the situation.

"I think you're going to have to give me a ride to work this morning."

Comments

[lolafalola.livejournal.com]

That's an interesting premise. I was intrigued.

I thought the child, Tommy, handled his ability to make objects come to life very well. I'm surprised the parents hadn't been hurt or that furniture that he'd have bumped into hadn't been destroyed.

[hwango.livejournal.com]

I figure there was probably a terrifying period of adjustment when things first started, but that by now the parents have learned to cope at least a little. And so far nothing he'd brought to life was actively dangerous.

Thanks for reading!