The Weeper Whineys

The creatures who inhabited my closet were called Weeper Whineys. They were pale, tiny figures who resembled Casper the Ghost but had no feet and they cried tears of sour milk. Their village was in the space between the shoe shelf and the floor of the closet and only I could see them and only at night. Their houses were made of square adobe-like bricks, vanilla colored and simple, all one story with no glass in the windows. The village was divided, one part the happy Weeper Whinies and the other the sad Weeper Whinies. At night, both sides would gather at the fountain in the center of town - from which flowed sweet cream - and the happy ones would fill lifesize milk bottles from the fountain and pour sweet cream on the sad ones. Then everyone danced. Since the happiness didn't last,the whole procedure had to be repeated each night.

When I told my daddy about them, he smiled, the way parents smile indulgently at imaginative children. He asked no questions. I have always thought that the Weeper Whineys were beyond my imagination and that I must have seen a cartoon that at least suggested them. The memory is crystal clear, these little creatures were like pencil drawings in soft shades of black and white, floating gracefully and footlessly through their little town, filling their bottles and passing on smiles.

My imagination was set free as I watched them and I dreamed of living their peaceful life. For awhile I collected milk bottles and hid them, as if by finding the fountain, everything could be put right.

In a child who feels alone, unloved and always frightened, imagination is a great gift. It can take you away to safe, happy places where there are magical creatures and fountains of sweet cream.