Never Forgotten: a Foster's Home Community

I wrote this way back when I had been the only one who watched Good Wilt Hunting, and now here it is for you guys to see. It ain't crash hot, but it's something.

~*~

Bounce. Bounce. Swish. Bounce. Bounce.

The sounds were so familiar by now, he could shut his eye and still visualize just where the ball was, how it was being handled, and in which direction it was being passed in. He could hear the sounds echoing from one street way down, but the sounds, accompanied by the shouts of teenagers who were playing the sport, brought little to no comfort. At least, not how they used to.

Being a homeless imaginary friend wasn't the best thing to be. Without a child, his own or someone else, was unlike any emotional pain anyone could suffer. The ten foot tall, red skinned imaginary could not even bring himself to think back to his child. Or how great it felt when he and Jordan would play the game together. Pretty much every memory hurt now.

He had came a great distance, even if he couldn't even name the town he was in now. It was just like the others, tall, grey, emotionless. What little food he found was from trashcans, or from friendly homeless who was nice enough to share some of their own food with him. It wasn't every day you see an imaginary wandering the streets without a kid. He'd lied a few times, saying he was just lost. His kid was around somewhere.

Pity.

He hated telling lies. But he had to, to cover up the truth. How could he have done something so terrible, so awful... no. No. He was thinking about it again. Clear mind. Clear mind.

Standing on a street corner he contemplated what he could do now. He had been in the town no more then a week but already he felt it was probably the best to wander off down the road. If he ran he could make the next town in little then a few hours. Having a running stride of twelve feet did wonders.

It was here he was about to cross the street when a black firebird came to a halt just besides him on the curb. It had startled him so much he had almost fallen over. The door opened and an elderly woman stared out at him from the interior. He'd grown used to the stares. Not only was it rare for such a tall friend to be seen, but one with a missing left arm and mangled left eye stalk did little to stop them.

But the way the woman was looking at him, it was much different from those he had received.

"Well hello deary," she said gently, "What are you doing out here all by your lonesome?"

It took him a few seconds to respond. "Oh uh, sorry. I uh..." he stammered a bit, thinking what to say. He hated to lie. And the old woman had the kind of face one couldn't lie to. "I'm..." he started, but stopped.

She seemed to understand without him having to explain. "I see, you poor thing. What's your name deary?"

No one had asked him that for a long time. It almost felt like he had forgotten it. "Wilt. I'm Wilt." he replied, rubbing his left shoulder with his right hand. He felt kind of nervous.

"Wilt. Well that's a lovely name! My name is Madame Foster, and I do believe I can help you, Wilt." Madame Foster said whilst nodding her head slowly.

"Oh, oh no I couldn't. I don't want to bother you," Wilt started, shaking his head and causing his mangled eyestalk to bob with every movement of his head.

"No bother at all! In fact, you are pretty much the reason why I can help you! Well not you yourself, but you as in you poor homeless imaginaries." she continued, fumbling in the pocket of her green sweater to pull out a card and held it out to him.

Wilt very slowly reached down, his arm so long he didn't have to bend to retrieve the card. It was hand written on a piece of cardboard that came from the back of a box of cereal apparently. He read it. 'Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends'. He read it again just to make sure his one good eye wasn't failing him from being over used. "...Foster's home for Imaginary Friends?" he echoed.

"Yup! It's a nice place, mine in fact, where imaginary friends no longer needed by their little children to come and live. And hopefully, one day, to go home with a new child who needs a friend!" she explained, "It's quite new you must understand, hence why you probably haven't heard of it."

That, and he hadn't been here that long. Wilt handed her the card back, before biting his bottom lip with his top teeth. It was an interesting proposition. "I wouldn't be putting someone out, would I?"

"Heavens no! We're as empty as a swimming pool in winter!" Madame Foster proclaimed with a cackle, before smiling up at the incredibly tall friend. "But really Wilt, if you do need a place to sleep I would be happy to help."

Wilt stood there for a few moments more, unsure of what he should do. He didn't want to be a burden on anyone, heavens no. Causing trouble was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. But then again, sleeping outside for so long hadn't been very nice either. Plus, he'd missed eating something cooked. Or at least fresh and not from a bin. He rubbed at his shoulder again, whilst gnawing at his bottom lip once more. Finally after a while he smiled, but only slightly. "Yeah... yeah okay, but... but only for a few nights, is that okay?"

"Whatever's good for you deary." the old lady smiled, before opening up the passenger side of the car. "It will be a squeeze for a boy so tall but I think you'll manage."

"Hyeah.." Wilt had to smile again at that, as he walked around the car and managed to bend his legs enough to squeeze into the car. "Now it's.. only gonna be for a while, okay? I don't want to bother you." he said again as he strapped himself in.

"I told you Wilt," Madame Foster said as she turned the ignition key, sparking the car to life. "You won't be no trouble at all."