SUMMARY: Vince, lonely and unhappy, runs into another Imaginary Friend.
But as he learns more about her, he beings to realize that Pel isn't
all that she seems to be.
AN: This fic has been a long time in the making. Almost four months if
I remember correctly. Pel is a work in progress and I am considering
a sequel. If you think I should, please say so if you review. Thank
you very much. Now, on with the show... er, fic.
Wake up, A gentle hand shook Vinces shoulder, Come on.
Vince opened his eyes, blinking away the sleepiness that he
felt. He yawned and looked around, trying to remember where he was.
The maroon inside of Pels car was a welcome sight. Vince had been
dreaming that he was still locked inside of the Chest. Hovering over
him, excitement written all over her face, was Pel. She was wearing
what looked like a large sock over her head and she had on a big,
Whats wrong Pel? He looked around, Where are we?
Sit up, She smiled, And youll see.
Sitting up slowly, he looked around. His mouth dropped open in surprise.
The world outside the car was bright white. There was snow everywhere,
covering the trees and fields. The sky was white too, filled with
falling snow and clouds. Vince couldnt find the spot where the earth
ended and the clouds began. Pel giggled and opened the door that Vince was
leaning against, dropping him out of the car and into a snow bank.
He just lay there for a moment, feeling the snowflakes land gently on his
face. Pel opened her door and landed in the snow beside Vince. Her breath
came out in foggy clouds, appearing for a moment and then dissipating.
Its beautiful. Vince whispered.
Pel nodded, I know. She sat up and pulled Vince up with her, You should
get some warmer clothes on. Youll catch a cold in those.
Vince looked down at his normal clothes. He closed his eyes and
imagined himself wearing clothes like Pels clothing, only green.
A faint tingling filled Vinces body and when he opened his eyes,
he was dressed like Pel.
And thats when the snowball hit him in the face.
Pel laughed at Vince wiped the snow out of his eyes. Vince is
going to get you for that! He shouted as he grabbed a handful
Not unless I get you first! Another snowball went whizzing by
his head. Vince chucked one at Pel and, when she dodged it, tackled
her, sending them both crashing into the wet snow. She shrieked as
they went down and Vince took that opportunity to stuff snow down
the collar of her jacket.
Pels screams echoed in the surrounding hills.
You thought you'd found a friend
To take you out of this place
Someone you could lend a hand
In return for grace
~Beautiful Day, U2
Whats it like?
Whats what like?
Breathing. Eating. Sleeping. Vince gestured towards Pels
body. Everything. Whats it like?
Intense. She plopped down on the bed, running a hand though her
wet hair, Its I cant describe it. Everything is brighter, more real.
You can taste food and and the smells! Like fresh food and burning paper.
They are amazing. Music can mean something more than just nice sounding
notes. You can feel cold and hot all the way inside. And people just talking
and touching them. She looked up at Vince, Imagine being able to touch skin
and feel all that blood rushing beneath it. The difference is hard to explain
its like trying to tell a blind person the difference between red and black
when all they know is black.
That different. Vince sat beside Pel.
She nodded and gently cradled his head in her hands. Her hands felt strange,
not at all like Mertons hands. Where Mertons were soft, her hands were strong.
Vince could never remember another person touching him. Even you I can feel the
power in you. And youre so smooth. She stroked the side of his face.
Vince was slightly disturbed by this but he pushed it out of his mind. Pel
was a little strange. He guessed that the death of creator had made her a
little bit insane.
Sensing that he was uncomfortable, she removed her hands from Vinces
face and picked up her hairbrush from the nightstand. She began to brush
Why do your do that?
Hmm? Pel said, Do what?
Brush your hair? He touched a stand of the tangled mess, Why dont
you just make it go into place.
I cant. For some reason, I dont have control over my hair. Im
not sure why but I think it has to have something to do with the fact
that Im partly real. She finished brushing her hair in silence.
I went out walking
Through streets paved with gold
Lifted some stones
Saw the skin and bones
Of a city without a soul
I went out walking
Under an atomic sky
Where the ground won't turn
And the rain it burns
Like the tears when I said goodbye
~The Wander, U2 and Johnny Cash
The grave was one of the largest in the cemetery.
The huge stone angel was the biggest gravestone that Vince had
ever seen. It stood somewhere around fifteen feet, jutting from
the earth like an angry finger. The angel stood on a base around
five feet tall and its cold, blank eyes stared down at Vince and Pel.
Pel walked up to the gravestone, tears running down her face. She
knelt in front of the stone and gently placed a bouquet of roses at
its base. Vince walked towards the gravestone and read the inscription.
Jeffery Daniel Bunk
Cut Down in His Youth
Below this inscription there was another one.
May He Spend His Days
With the Angels
And May His Murderer
Burn In Hell
He was murdered? Vince asked.
Yes. Pel stood and faced Vince, her tears gone, We found his
body in the playground. It it looked like he had been attacked by
wolves. She swallowed and blinked away tears, He was everywhere Vince.
It was bright red and he was everywhere.
Vince wrapped Pel in a hug and gently rubbed her back.
Its okay. Vince understands.
Pel buried her head into Vinces chest, hiding the smile
that would not be contained.
Look at my mouth, a thin painted line
Look at my limbs, bent up and bundled in twine
Forever, ever mine
Form of a tree, shape of a child
I wish I could cry, stuck in a permanent smile
Forever, ever mine
~Just a Toy, Barenaked Ladies
All around the cobblers bench, the monkey chased the
weasel. The monkey though twas all in fun. Pop, goes
the weasel. A penny a spool of thread, a penny for a
needle. Thats the way the money goes. Pop! Goes the weasel.
Vince looked over at Pel, who was busy singing Pop! Goes
the weasel for what seemed like the fiftieth time. She
was too busy driving to notice him looking at her. He had
begun to notice things about Pel. And most of them were
She sang nursery rhymes when she was nervous about something.
She bit her nails down to the quick. When he asked for the
truth, she only gave him part of it. She rocked back and
forth in the middle of the night when she thought Vince was
asleep, mumbling incoherently for hours on end. Pels sense
of humour was more than just a bit odd.
But what was most disturbing of all was her refusal to speak
about Jeffs death. Vince knew that she was hiding something
from him. Jeff had been killed, supposedly when Pel had left
her hometown. But there was something about the description
of Jeffs body that disturbed Vince.
Jeff had been ripped apart by something inhumanly strong. He
had been splattered all over the playground, cut and mutilated
almost beyond recognition. It was as if something had just
snapped and began to tear, without ever understanding what
it was doing.
Vince knew that Pel had something to do with Jeffs death.
But it was an almost impossible concept to grasp. He could
never imagine killing Merton, no matter what he may have
said. To kill your creator is a terrible thing to do, for
both the creator and the created. It is to destroy your
nature and deny your heritage.
But Vince said nothing. Pel was the only one like him,
the only one who understood him. And no matter what he
suspected, he would stay with her; learn as much as he
And, as she being the fifty-second singing of Pop! Goes
the Weasel, Vince joined in.