Prologue
How would you feel if one day you realized that your existence was the only thing that kept one person sane and alive?
Chapter 1
It had been many years since my friend, Clay, left to go to a secret place with no more than a goodbye. You see, I moved to Texas from Ireland when I was 6 years old. Needing work badly my dad found a farm to help on. The man seemed nice enough, but what made me happy was that he had a 6 year old son for me to play with. Day after day we would help our parents, and day after day we talked. Each day the accent I was raised with began to fade and he ran out of things to insult me with. Eventually we became best friends. We grew older and one day he said bye and left. As I called after him, yelling at him to write, my accent showed more than it had in years, and he looked at me and smiled.
Of course I continued to work on the farm, and one day I realized I could outwork my dad. As the days went by I continued to write to Clay, telling him we were all fine; then every once in a while he'd write back. He always said that he couldn't tell me what he was doing. "I can't tell y'all everythin' that's goin' on, but I can say that you would love it, were ya here. 'Speacially you sis". Sis, that's what he would call me. He had a real sister, but she left a while ago. I guess I would like it, whatever "it" was. He always knew what I liked.
My overactive imagination was to blame I guess. Constantly I would imagine my best friend, much taller and larger than myself. He had shaggy, messy, blonde hair. I always thought of him and his friends out taming dragons, of fighting wizards. Clay knew about this habit of mine and would constantly play off of it. But ever since he left I've had a awful time telling my fantasy from my reality.