 I'll always think about that summer home my parents were renovating as a joyful one. The old cobblestone path that guided my small feet home to the porch of that tall four-story wood cabin. My mother was truly a gifted painter. She touched the wood with a cedar finish that shined brighter during the rain and glowed in the night. My father restructured the house and repaired the old mold-covered wood. His hands alone made it sturdy and strong while moms made it warm and inviting. I recall playing out under the old white willow tree that stood hundreds of feet old and as tall as my young eyes could see, a goliath of nature there to protect me. It was under that tree, I first saw it. When it came to me it was nothing more than a blur behind a bright light, beckoning me over. I followed it into the woods. It showed me so much. It showed me the pond where frogs hopped, snakes slithered and where crickets sang loudest. It let me see a beauty within such a bog, one that even my mother would appreciate. The days went by and it showed me so much more. It showed me life being brought into the world, dough giving birth to baby fawn and it showed me frogs that had died due to a sudden change in weather. My friend held me when I cried for those that had closed their eyes for good. It was so kind and took such good care of me. As time went on, I asked my parents to bring my imaginary friend inside. Mother smiled and laughed. Her green eyes set upon me lovingly. Father on the other hand, shook his head, looking over at my mother with great concern. Not tonight. He said, his voice grumbled with an unfamiliar concern that surprised even my mother. Father told me my friend wasn't real. But mother wanted me to enjoy my friend and explore the depths of my imagination before the summer would end and we would be back in the city. My friend did not like that. Its warm demeanor faded for just a moment. My eyes caught a glimpse of something scary. It's hands reached out to me, yet the sound of my mother caused it to retract its hands back. We met under the willow tree late in the night. This bright deluded appearance shrouded in light had even less of a glow now. I could start to make out small features. My friend had fur and made grunts. I don't think friend was human, but I loved friend so much it didn't matter. My friend didn't want me to go instead offered to keep me here. I told it my parents and I would go back to the city where my friends were and it became upset. It asked me to come into the woods before I left. I did. It took my hand and we made our way into the woods. Friend told me if I followed it into a cave in the hillside where it lived I could stay here with it. The cave looked dark and deep just outside where the frogs had died. The smell was so pungent and overwhelming I felt dizzy breathing it in. I could see that baby fawn I'd watched come into our world lifeless outside my friend's cave. It's once brown eyes beginning to cloud over. I became scared of my friend. Why did it die? I called out hot tears streaming down my face. My friend tried to brush away my tears but it's nail pricked my skin causing me to bleed. Many things will feel it insisted its voice hummed a subtle growl that I'd not heard before. I tried to back away but my friend grabbed my hand so tight it hurt. When I pulled away from my friend it dragged me closer to the cave. You will stay. It demanded its voice gone from a subtle growl to a deep and vicious rage. That's when father came running into the woods. Get inside. He cried out in anger swooping me off my feet. Looking back my friend was nowhere in sight neither was that mean looking cave. I was so happy to see my father even despite being upset with me he could see how scared I was. I told him my friend made me it dragged me it betrayed me. My father never said anything only held me and carried me inside. He insisted we finish the home soon and my mother reluctantly agreed for weeks my former friend never showed yet his anger lingered as if he was still beside me grabbing my hand so tight the foul air still around me. I decided to go out one night to go beyond the old willow tree once more. I walked past its white branches that hung low with buds of pink and red blossoming bright with a smell so refreshing. I walked into the thicket the frogs were gone now and the body of the dough along with them alone stood the pond with lily pans floating peacefully along the top of the water. Fog rolled off the pond and combed through the floor of the woods scaring away small critters and bugs alike. The sound of nature came to a quick stop. I watched the fog form into a swirl and watched it dance around the top of the pond then jolt to the left of me and over the hillside where it stood twisting and spinning about. I was mesmerized by this unlikely course of nature this profound moment that lured my attention away from fear and into a catatonic state of awe. It swirled and danced until I could see through the fog its transparency becoming more apparent. There behind it was that scary cave and two beady red eyes of what was once my friend. The swirl of fog masqueraded his mean image as he along with the fog chased after me. I snapped out of my trance and ran yet no matter how fast I did my former friend was faster. It reached for me nearly grabbing hold. I could hear my mother calling for me yet when I called back the fog blinded me causing me to cough and gasp for air. I couldn't call back. You will never leave me again. It snarled. That's when I saw my father run to me from the clearing. I reached out for him and he pushed me behind him. I nearly fell over from his strength. He searched all through the forest ignoring me as I tried to tell him what happened. Go to your mother you are to never leave the house until we move. He shouted in anger. Dad slept during the day but stayed up at night watching outside. I thought he had become mean like my friend yet mother assured me he was only protecting us. It was the night of the move a storm gathered outside fierce and without scrutiny. It shoved trees along and crashed against our summer home. I looked out the window one last time before going to bed. I wanted to see the old willow tree one last time. It was on fire burning bright ashes collecting in the gust torn skies and pieces of my fond memories flying scattering in the wind. Father went outside to put out the fire running fast towards the old willow tree. That's when I saw my friend and the hate that had grown within. I could see it clearly now for what it truly was. It had hooves covered in black tar and fur full of mange. It stood upright like us and had the face of a goat with horns that curled and bent with menace. It had the torso of a man and the hands of one too yet its fingers were long and covered with hair. It beckoned me over with haunting pale eyes. It mouth the words pointing its scary finger towards my father. I screamed no and slam the window shut. My mother came running and looked outside in horror. She covered my eyes and pulled me into the closet. She told me to wait here and never make a sound. I stood still and silent. I could hear its hooves click and then step inside our summer home. It called for me. Its voice growling lower with each haunting repeat of my name. I covered my mouth and begged in my mind praying for it to leave. It reassured me. It was still my friend. It wanted me to come with it out behind the old willow tree. I closed my eyes, refusing its calls. That's when I heard it stomping through the hallway and now in my room. It must have known where I was. It broke through the door with its horrid horns. It punched and kicked, hissed and swore. Why was it so violent? I thought we were friends. Stay away from our son, the voice of my mother erupted with anger. You came once before. Now you will leave, said my father. It hissed and stomped, trotted and swore at my mom and dad. I was only a boy when you tried to take me from my home. You will leave my son be. My father clenched his fist and moved toward the beast. It snarled and hissed at my father. You were a weak, crying little boy. You weren't good enough. It spat towards father. You will die a thousand times should you harm my child. My mother screamed, stepping towards the monster hand in hand with my father. The creature hissed and snarled, banged and wailed profanities I would not speak. It must have returned to its cave back deep beyond the willow tree. My parents have since told me to stay wary of imaginary friends. My father had met it once when he was my age. He told me how mean the creature was when he refused its hand. He begged me, steer clear, never go there. He had not suspected the beast had traveled since last he'd seen it. We live in a new cottage now, far from the noises of the city. It doesn't have that willow tree I used to play under. Its forest is not as vast and the animals outside are so few. My parents are here and I feel safest. Still, even now underneath the city lights and sounds, I think about what happened under that old willow tree when it first came to me.