Masks and Magic

Make-believe was my favorite thing to do while growing up.

When I was pretending my senses heightened, and I experienced another reality.

Imagining that my closet was actually a walk-in refrigerator, where I could summon cheesecakes and endless goodies was a dream. I could really taste the sugary cream and gooey strawberry jam, while sucking on my fingers. I was careful not to spill any on the carpet, yknow because it might bring ants.

The closet was dark, quiet and safe and I liked it.

I played make-believe with my sisters sometimes, invited them into my ginger bread mansion (that was really a giant brown blanket), but the roof was covered in icing and the door knob was made of jelly beans.

I believed in it so much that my siblings did to, playing along and dressing up.

A part of me knew it was in my head, but that didn't make it any less real.

One day, I started writing down my make-believe stories and knew they created something for both myself and others to see...something otherworldly...