The story you are about to hear took place when I was a boy. I don’t know how to explain
it. In fact, I think it would have been easier to explain back then. To this day there is no logical
explanation that suffices, but it happened just the way I’m about to tell it, that I can assure you.
I’ve spent my life studying psychology, working my way up to my PhD. I always thought
if I tried to study just how exactly, the mind works I could somehow figure out what had
happened all those years ago. Dr. Wilson Jennings is my name, and what you’re about to read, is
a story I have been waiting to tell for a long time.
“Get up Wilson you pussy!”
I heard this as a flurry of kicks came at me with a recklessness typical of children. Their
shoes bouncing off my head and ribs and my vision plagued with white patches of light, then
stars. I shifted myself in the dirt and tried to use my backpack to absorb some of the impact. One
of the boys ripped it off me and unzipped it, dumping the contents on me and the dirty ground.
“Didn’t finish lunch today?”
Holding half a glass bottle of Snapple over my head and smiling malevolently, was
Christopher Butler, the ringleader of this little group of monsters currently assaulting my poor
eight-year-old self. Christopher was a constant instigator of terror for me as a young child,
bullying me and not allowing me a moments peace. Which is all I ever really wanted.
I didn’t have many friends. I was a shy boy, precocious and perhaps annoyingly
inquisitive. I spent most of my days reading fantasy books or exploring the woods behind my
house. Looking for specimens in the creek I might be lucky enough to happen upon and store in
a bucket for a moment or two.
“You shouldn’t waste your lunch like this Wilson”
Christopher shoved a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich near my mouth and
made sure to smear it on my face and up into my hair. He then opened the bottle of Snapple and
dumped it all over me, my pitiful form cowering as the liquid soaked my clothes. I was no longer
being kicked and the other three boys were all standing around laughing now.
Sufficiently humiliated, or so I thought, I stood to retrieve the contents of my backpack
and clamber off towards home when I felt a sharp pain and heard a sickening thud. Christopher
had thrown the glass Snapple bottle at me, hard. It connected with my head, just above the eye.
The pain was intense and the onset quick, the bottle falling to the dirt below and rolling towards
the woods.
This was the proverbial icing on the cake, and I began to cry. The three boys laughed
heartily as I took off running towards my house, leaving my papers and lunchbox behind. I didn’t
know why Christopher chose to bully me, other than the easy conclusion that I was an easy
target. I didn’t have friends who could back me up. And my parents certainty weren’t going to do
anything about it.
I walked into my small two-bedroom house that day to shouting and fighting, as I did
most days. Whatever my parents were fighting about that particular day, I couldn’t remember.
The words themselves mostly just morphed together into one big atmosphere of hate and anger. I
just know they eventually turned and saw me, covered in mud and with blood on my face.
“What happened this time?”
“Bullies.”
“I told you to stand up for yourself boy, didn’t I?” My stepfather said unsympathetically,
turning from my mom to shoot his venom at a new target.
“You can’t be a baby forever, be a man and fight back for once, no more of this crying
bullshit.”
I wiped my eyes and felt the tears smearing with dirt, or possibly blood. I wasn’t sad
anymore all of the sudden, I was just mad.
“There was four of them, maybe next time one of you could pick me up.”
At this my mother just laughed.
“Wilson, ungrateful Wilson, you know that Ken and I do everything we can for you. Its
not our fault you don’t have friends to walk you home. It’s not our fault we weren’t around
today, and you knew that. Like Steve said, stand-up for yourself for once. We try our best for
you.”
Knowing I wasn’t anymore likely to get support here than I was from those kids who
were beating the shit out of me 20 minutes ago. I retreated upstairs to my room saying nothing
else, my leg hurting as I ascended due to being stepped on. I heard my mom and stepdad going at
it some more, this time about me. I didn’t care though, they were a source of so many problems
for me, so what if I was for them? I told myself this as a new hot track of tears burned through
the mud.
…
“You’ve been missing too much homework Wilson, you’re going into 5 th grade soon, and
middle school sooner than you know it. They’re going to take these things really seriously, you
need to start paying more attention.”
“But…” As I began my plea, I looked to my left and saw Christopher laughing silently to
his friends. My homework of course, had been lost yesterday afternoon. Dumped from my
backpack as I was being clobbered. I elected not to bring this up to my teacher. The last time I
tried I was just beaten worse, I came to realize trying to have any sort of punishment inflicted
upon Christopher, lead me to being punished far more severely. Unfortunately, all the past days
events, and now being scolded by another person who should have been there to help me caused
me to well up with tears. Christopher and his friends laughed harder.
I looked out the window as my teacher began whatever lesson he was giving that day.
The sky was a dark perfect blue, the clouds scarce and wispy. It was that typical late May heat,
the kind that would seem stifling if it hadn’t been so fresh and new after so many months of cold.
I was thinking then, looking out over the trees in the distance, that I would go the long way
home, through the deep woods. If I moved quick enough after the final bell, hopefully
Christopher and his cronies wouldn’t notice me taking the route off the beaten path. My mom
had always forbid me to go this way, but I didn’t really care right now.
When the bell rang, I made a bee-line for the door. I saw Christopher standing up,
mercifully, moving slowly, and I hoped not paying any attention to me. My heart skipped a beat
and tightened as I noticed Christopher motion to two other boys sitting near him and then, ever
so slightly, tilt his head in my direction. Clark and Jason were Christopher’s closest friends, they
were always by his side causing terror, including yesterday.
I simply ran at that point, out the door down the stairs, and through the main entrance of
the school. Looking behind me I noticed, at least at first glance, that Christopher and his cohorts
were not close enough to see me. Perhaps they weren’t even following me, but I couldn’t take
the chance. I went right when walking out the door although my immediate path would have
been left. I took my time as I lapped around the school, almost back to where I started, and
veered off into the thick trees.
The woods were alive all around me. Birds had come back for the summer, their shrill
chorus erupting around me. Bugs blared their various cries from the soft ground, all the way up
into the thick green trees. I breathed in a deep breath of fresh air as I walked briskly through the
forest. This was certainly the long way home. While the roads and the direct route from school
would take me about fifteen minutes, the trek through the woods took me close to an hour. It was
worth it though; my mom and stepdad were usually too absorbed with whatever they had going
on to notice. And, to my honest surprise, I had no run-ins with Christopher for the whole week.
On Friday I was making my usual journey home through the thick woods. I had pretty
much carved out my own little walking path at this point, so the going was a bit easier. I was
halfway through my walk home, in the thickest and deepest part of the woods when I heard
yelling.
“Ouch why would you do that!?”
“I didn’t mean to quit being a baby.”
“SHUT UP! You idiots, will you shut up.”
I froze. The last voice was certainly Christopher’s. I didn’t want to risk the chance of
outrunning them. The voices were getting closer by the second. Only saved by the mass of
vegetation around me, I broke off from my little path and into the deep woods. About thirty
yards from the track I’d laid, heart beating intensely, I listened as the voices passed by me.
“Looks like Wilsons got himself a new route home boys. On Monday that loser’s dead.”
They moved on quickly, but I stayed, prone on the ground unmoving, for another ten or
so minutes. Angry that my cover was blown I began to get up, bringing myself to my knees. As I
did, I could now make out something lying in the grass about twenty feet from my hiding place.
Moving towards it, I could tell what it was I was looking at. There, in a slightly upstretched
circle of grass, sat a large egg. The egg looked nothing like any egg I had ever seen before. It
was about the size of a loaf of bread, and dark green. There were yellow bumps, uniform, almost
like scales all around it. I was immediately drawn to it in a way that’s hard to describe. Not
thinking I picked it up. I winced at the heat and nearly dropped it.
The egg was hot to the touch. Not too hot to stand, but nearly. It was also quite heavy, no
less than ten pounds. I rolled it around in my small hands, feeling the scaly bumps and gazing
into that hunter green shell. I grabbed my backpack and removed the contents. The egg just
barley fit, but I managed to get it in and secure the zipper. Carrying my school stuff in my arms I
ran towards home.
I entered my house as quietly and inconspicuously as possible. Something told me I
needed to keep the egg a secret from my parents. Luckily, they weren’t anywhere to be found as
I opened the front door and made my way to my room. Normally I’d be in the kitchen cramming
whatever leftovers or snacks I could find into my backpack to bring upstairs. I didn’t have
money for lunch that day and hadn’t eaten breakfast. For some reason though, the egg in my
backpack was all-consuming. My appetite had shifted from my stomach to my brain as soon as it
had fallen upon my eyes. What could it be? Where had it come from?
I entered my room, shutting the door behind me, and ran to me bed. I pulled the egg from
my hot backpack carefully, inspecting it with powerful concentration. The scales were very stiff,
yet somehow still flexed with a good pry. They seem to extend all the way back to the root of the
egg itself, wherever that was. It must have weighed at least 20 pounds and was radiating enough
heat that after only an hour my bedroom became a sauna. After the initial influx of heat seemed
to reach an apex the air became stagnant. Sweating and toiling I kept poking and prodding at the
egg every once in a while stopping just to marvel at the specimen in front of me.
I stayed in my room with the egg for hours, on the verge of exhaustion, hoping to
somehow unlock it secrets. Sure that if I did I wouldn’t have the slightest clue what to do with
them. When I finally couldn’t take it anymore, and I ventured to the bathroom for a cold shower.
I brought an extra towel with me and before I left I ran the water as hot as it could go, soaking
the towel. I wrapped the egg in the hot towel and tucked it in the corner by the heater. If I wasn’t
so dead from the events of the day, I never would have slept.
…
The next morning, I woke to a cracking an popping noise coming from the corner of the
room. Excitedly I peeked over the foot of my bed. The egg was shaking violently, and small
splinters were forming like lighting bolts contrasted by the dark green. I snapped back quickly as
a large chunk of egg broke off, then smiled wide as another, and another, fell to the floor. I will
never forget the moment; it sits in the back of my mind like a still frame picture I can take out of
my pocket and view for real. A large chunk of egg popped off near the top and out sprung a
veiny, membranous wing. The wing flapped around violently, and the egg wobbled back and
forth on the floor. Another crack and I could see a small, almost bird-like leg with sharp claws
emerge. The leg steadied the egg and the wing stopped flapping, I let out an audible gasp as
before I could register what was happening flame erupted from within. The egg simply melted
away to nothing wherever the flame touched, and, in all its glory, there stood a small dragon in
my bedroom.
Tears flowed from my eyes. They were tears of pure joy, and of pure terror. I marveled at
what I was seeing. The dragon was a dark, brilliant green; close but a tad lighter than the egg that
held it. Its eyes were crimson red as were the horns on top of his head. its shoulders and legs
were quite muscular, but its pot belly wiggled with its movement. The dragon cooed quietly and
jumped up onto the bed. It nuzzled its head up against my leg and then it curled itself up, much
like a cat. And went to sleep.
The first week of having a dragon in my room went pretty much as you would expect.
My bedsheets had been singed, my shoes chewed, floors scratched, and the curtains were burned
down all together. Fire breathing dragon had been a cliché I’d heard all my life, but I assure you
the real thing was much more incredible and terrifying than it could ever sound. The dragon
seemed to use its fire the way a baby cries, burning things when it was angry, or hungry, or
scared, it was as if fire was the be-all end-all solution to all of its problems.
My mother of course saw my curtains and sheets and was incredibly angry, but also
concerned. She thought I had been acting up due to what was clearly neglect bordering on abuse.
She didn’t have the good sense or decency to do anything about it though, other than show the
damage to my stepfather. He screamed at me that night and some of the things said were
particularly cruel and hurtful even for him. I wanted to scream and curse, but for whatever reason
I resigned to the verbal flow of malice in silence. When he was done, he pushed me up the stairs
towards my room, a room he assured me I wouldn’t be leaving for the next month.
When I got to my room and slammed the door closed, I saw an orange glow from beneath
the bed. Slowly I moved over to the light and crouched down. There was an immense heat
emanating from the glow and I realized just how hot the room was. I pulled up the bedsheet and
peeked my small head under The dragon was glowering, teeth exposed, and nails digging into
the wood. A small hissing, or was it steaming, sound whistled from its nostrils, as thin puffs of
smoke poured out. He was angry, very angry.
I had decided to call my dragon just that, Dragon. After thinking for a while I came to the
realization that Dragon was probably an appropriate name seeing as how it was, as far as I knew,
the only dragon on the planet. I also couldn’t figure out its gender, so Dragon it was.
There were a few things that went wrong relatively quickly while trying to keep this
dragon in my room. First and foremost, was feeding him. I had been using the tiny amount of
money I had saved in my piggy-bank to buy raw chicken, but unfortunately Dragon ate it at such
a rate that this wasn’t sustainable. It pains me to admit it, but I resorted to stealing in order to try
and keep up with Dragons insatiable hunger. I would pilfer and small amount of money from
jackets in the cubby-holes at class. And even lifted money from my teachers purse on multiple
occasions. In the end I realized I’d been missing something all along, fish. There was a lake as
well as a creek close enough to walk to and luckily Dragon enjoyed the live bluegill and
occasional bass much more than raw chicken and left over table scraps.
An eventual bigger problem, pun intended, was that Dragon was growing incredibly
quickly. Its body had grown to fit it wings in just a week, and it was spending half its time flying
quick, deliberate laps around my ceiling. Every once in a while knocking a lego set, or a few
books to the floor with a careless turn. I found the egg in late August at the beginning of the
school year, and by Halloween it had, to my great dismay, become too large to keep in my room
any longer.
I knew the moment was approaching for a while, but I was too stubborn to admit it to
myself. In the end an extremely close call with my stepfather ended any lingering hope that it
could just stay in my room forever. Dragon was now as big as a polar bear and even with his
wings in, much wider than one. Despite this it was remarkably light on its feet. It moved across
the hallway and down the stairs with little to no noise on the late nights I’d lead him down and
out the back-sliding door to fly. On this particular Saturday morning an unknown variable almost
blew both of our covers catastrophically.
Unbeknownst to me, my Stepfather had brought flowers home for my Mother that
evening. A whole big bouquet almost as tall as me in a large heavy glass vase sat on the kitchen
counter. In the near pitch black in never even saw them until it was too late. As I unlocked the
door to let Dragon out, he unfurled his wings and gave them a quick stretch. One giant muscular
wing swept down across the counter and sent the vase smashing to the floor.
Before I even had time to process the calamity before me, I heard screaming from
upstairs.
“WHO THE FUCK IS THAT!?”
That was the first thing I could hear that was intelligible rather than hysterical screaming.
I also heard my parent’s bedroom door opening and a shotgun shell being racked. I ripped the
door open and pushed dragon out the door.
“Go, go. Fly Dragon, you have to fly now!”
I felt a sharp pain as I pleaded with Dragon and in moonlight, just made out the pain and
distress in its eyes.
“Please go! You have to fly Dragon. NOW!!”
With that Dragon kicked up off his feet and shot off into the night, faster than I had ever
seen him fly.
My parents were livid over the broken vase, especially considering the destruction of my
room just a month earlier. I spent that night cleaning the broken glass and mopping up the wet
floor. My stepfather wanted to ground me until Christmas but, surprisingly, my Mother showed
me mercy. Halloween was approaching and I think she felt bad that I had no one to trick-or-treat
with and her logic was that; I should at least get to go, even if it was alone. Maybe that seemed
like a good idea to her but in hindsight, I was much to young to be out by myself. She allowed
me to go at the disgust of my stepfather.
…
The Monday of Halloween morning I had much different things on my mind than candy,
or even the fact I’d be possibly the only kid in America going with no friends or parents. I hadn’t
seen Dragon in two days. I had no idea where he might have gone and I wept and I wept at the
thought that he was alone and cold, maybe dead, and it was all my fault. Why had I panicked so
bad? I should have hid him just below the deck or something, how could I have been so stupid?
The day ended uneventfully. I hadn’t worn a costume to school like many of the other
children had. I wasn’t in the mood. Christopher had made plenty of jokes about why no one
wanted to go with a “freak”, or a “loser” like me. He also made it abundantly clear that he would
not let me pass unscathed should he catch me out that night. If I wasn’t so upset about Dragon
already the torment from Christopher surely would have cut much deeper.
After the final bell I quickly grabbed up my things and made for the door. I could feel hot
tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I couldn’t stand how unfair my life was I just wanted to
go home and sleep. Sleep so I could forget about my life, if just for a moment. As I walked
through the deep woods I yelped and hit the deck as I heard a loud “WHOOSH” over-head. It
was Dragon.
He stood in the middle of the path and reared up and down like a dog when its master
returns from work. I couldn’t believe it, he had been here, where I first found him the whole
time. Dragon walked off the path and motioned for me to follow. About 100 yards or so back
into the woods, dragon began to poke and prod at the earth. When he got a bit of purchase, I
could see a seam in the grass and leaves begin to form. Slowly but surely, Dragon used his claws
and nose to pry up a large dome shaped path of earth.
I walked up to the rim and my reality was shattered before me. Under the dome was a
large hole, and in the hole was nothing but hot, smoking, orange fire. Dragon looked at me as if
to see what I was making of the whole situation, then without hesitation, he dove down into the
burning hole. I was mortified, where did this hole lead, how could it possibly just be here, sitting
in the woods? Woods close to my house even, to my school especially. As I was pondering this,
and so many more questions, Dragon came roaring back out of the fire.
I had come to the realization that this wasn’t just a small hole filled with fire. It was
Dragon’s world, where he came from. I began to cry. I knew the answer before I even said it but
I still tried to will it away.
“Does this mean you cant stay here?” I asked sheepishly.
“Dragons eyes lowered, and it nodded”
“But I need you, who else could protect me, who… who will be my friend.” The tears
were streaming from me face.
Dragon swooped over to me and rubbed its large head against my chest.
“ME” It croaked quietly.
That night I was so sad that I kept myself in my room and cried until the sun went down.
Just as I felt that sweet relief of sleep overtaking me my Stepfather came bursting into my room.
“If you’re going to cause a fight between your mother and I over fucking trick-or-
treating, you’re damn sure you’re going to actually go out and do it! He pulled me from my bed
and led me to their room. A few cheap rubber masks were laid out on their bed.
“Pick one.” My Stepfather ordered. “Your mother bought these today.
Without any choice in the matter, I chose a Snoopy mask and trudged outside by myself
with my pillowcase in hand. Normally my mother would go with me, but tonight she was being
forced to work overnight in the city. I must admit, though the reason behind me trick-or-treating
alone was quite sad, the act itself proved rather enjoyable. With no one to slow me down I made
quick work of many of the houses in my neighborhood.
When I had just finished collecting my candy from the last of the houses near my school,
my pillowcase full and my stomach growling, I crossed over the soccer fields to head home. I
was daydreaming about Dragon. When it had grown to an appropriate size, probably the size of a
mastiff, I would sometimes fly with it late at night. The feeling was indescribable. Incredibly
frightening, but more so just exhilarating. Pure adrenaline. The lights of the houses, cars, and
streetlamps below would blur as the wind whipped past my face and through my hair. Sometimes
Dragon would dare to fly lower, just out of sight still but close enough that the features of the
houses could be discerned.
I was fondly reminiscing on these nights when a voice broke me from my spell and sent a
cold shiver down my back.
“Look who it is boys.” Christopher said getting up from the picknick bench where he sat
and towards me. Clark and Jason also sprang up with big smiles on their faces.
“Please just leave me alone.” I began to plead. “I’m on my way home my Mom is waiting
for me.”
“No she’s not,” Christopher said sneering. She’s probably passed out drunk. The other
two boys both howled with laughter as my face turned a scarlet red.
“Shut up!” I yelled, tears beginning to well up in my eyes. She’s not!”
“Oh I bet she is Wilson, My dad went to school with your Mom and Stepdad and he told
me they’re both lazy drunk alcoholic losers!”
“SHUT UP” as I screamed I made a quick movement towards Christopher, but in that
moment I quickly conceded defeat. I couldn’t touch Christopher even if he had been alone, but
he wasn’t alone. Him and the other two would clobber me until I was left broken and bleeding
like always. I stopped in my tracks, let out a sigh, and turned around, beginning to walk towards
the woods.
I sped up a bit knowing I was only delaying the inevitable. The footfalls behind me
increased in pace and I started to flat out run. The woods were dark and looming, but they
seemed much safer than what was creeping up behind me. I found the path in the dark and began
sprinting through the bald, familiar stretch of dirt. Before too long I felt a hand grab the back of
my collar.
I slammed down hard into the dirt as Christopher landed on top of me. Clark and Jason
were close behind and began raining kicks down on me. I saw a few flashes of white as pain
began erupting from my head, ribs, and stomach. Tears streamed from my face as I pleaded to
whatever could hear me. I just wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to be left alone by Christopher
and all the other bullies. To be treated fairly by my teachers. For my mother and stepfather to
show me love and compassion. And I wanted my Dragon back.
Just as I felt like the lights were flickering off in my head, there came a great
‘WHOOOOSH’ and a small, muffled scream. Christopher and Jason backed off of me and
looked around frightened.
“What was that?!” screamed Jason. “Where’s Clark?”
“I don’t know!” Christopher was panicking, the sudden disappearance of strong but
dimwitted ally clearly affecting him. “He was right here! Let’s G-…”
Before Christopher could finish his sentence, Clarks body shot down through the air only
feet in front of him. It hit the ground with a sickening pop and exploded. I was showered in hot
dark blood as was Christopher and Jason. They were screaming in horror as I tried to get to my
feet, pulling a few pieces of Clark’s skull and brains from my shirt. Christopher threw up and
looked to me as if this could somehow be my doing, as if I had made his friend somehow fall
from the sky.
Before he could accuse me of anything however, there was a deafening roar from above.
Dragon swooped down and landed calmly next to me. ‘Maybe it was my fault’ I thought to
myself and smiled. Jason and Christopher stood rooted to the ground a look of confusion mixed
with pure terror hung on both their faces. Christopher looked to me and looked to the Dragon
standing just 20 or so feet from him, its red eyes glancing back with hatred. He took a slow
uneasy step back.
As he did so Dragon suddenly turned his head to Jason. He managed to get out the very
start of a bloodcurdling “NNNOOOOOO” as a jet of orange-red fire shot from Dragon’s throat.
Jason’s body instantly erupted in flame. Christopher dove backwards, narrowly avoiding being
burned to death himself. The black outline of the screaming Jason was visible in the fireball for a
few seconds, but as Dragon closed his mouth and hissed, nothing but dust was left. Dragon took
a few slow, deliberate steps forward, and lowered his head to the ground. Without breaking his
eye-contact with the quaking Christopher, Dragon blew the ashes of his dead friend all over the
boys costume.
“NO PLEASE I’M SORRY!” Christopher shrieked with such fear that I almost felt pity
for him. But before I could even process the scene in front of me Dragon lunged at him. Harsh,
awful screams filled the dark woods. Dragon tore at the boys stomach with claws and teeth, then
with sickening ease he ripped off an arm and swallowed it whole. As Christopher yelped and
cried, Dragon sized him up for a second, and chomped down hard on his head. Dragons teeth
sunk in just above the boy’s chin and he bit down hard. Christopher’s head was gone with a
squelch, blood pouring from his neck as his mangled body sat useless in the path.
Before I could even manage to scream or cry, Dragon began to blow fire into the trees all
around us, he turned to the two remaining body’s and blew a large plume of fire over them. Soon
the fire was raging, and Dragon gestured for me to get onto his back. I did and as we hovered
slowly up into the air, Dragon breathed more and more fire into the woods around us. As we
sped off into the night I looked behind me to see a now full fledged forest fire swallowing the
dark treetops.
Dragon dropped me on the ground outside my house. I thanked him and pleaded for him
to stay but he quickly turned off into the night. I had come to realize over the last few days that
Dragon had grown so fast that this was maybe the equivalent of a parent letting a child go off to
college, or to roam the world in search if purpose. It was selfish of me to expect him to stay.
I knew I should be horrified. I had just watched three of my classmates brutally killed.
However, rather than fear, I felt an overwhelming calmness. I knew those boys deserved it,
frankly I didn’t care they were dead. And Dragon was a part of me now. I felt as indifferent as a
dog owner when their beloved pet kills a groundhog or a rat. I was happy to be rid of them.
The whole ordeal had completely exhausted me, and I felt myself slipping into
unconsciousness right there in the grass of my front yard. My stepfather had found me outside an
hour or so later and he rudely grabbed me by my hair and yanked me up from where I was
sleeping.
“What have you done!?” he screamed at me, the smell of alcohol on his hot breath.
You’re going away boy, you’re going away and never coming back. Take a good look, this is the
last night you will EVER see this house. He cocked his arm back and backhanded me hard across
the face. Salty blood pooled in my mouth and around my teeth. “How dare you do something
like this!” he threw me through the front door and into the house.
Inside on the news I could see a massive fire burning as a reporter announced a forest
fire was blazing right in my town. I was now very aware of the sirens blazing outside and
helicopters above. As my stepfather shoved me towards the stairs, I tried to sneak a quick look at
my now split lip in the mirror. With a sharp slap, fear and dread washed over me. I could see my
face covered in soot, and my clothes ripped and burned. The sudden, terrible realization that my
stepfather obviously assumed I’d set this fire washed over me.
In my room my stepfather beat me. He punched me and kicked me, and even threw my
lamp off the dresser, just missing my head by inches. He screamed and threatened me and told
me I’d never see my mother again. I was already in so much pain from earlier, the new onslaught
felt raw and left me broken. I lay on the bed cringing and crying as I heard him come up the
stairs again. Hot tears flowed from my cheeks, I just wanted this to be over.
My stepfather burst into the room with a hammer and nails.
“Can’t have you sneaking off boy. You’re gonna be spending everyday in this damn
room until you’re trial is over. That’s right, you’re fucked kid, and if this fire burns down that
school, kiss your whole life goodbye. If not, you’ll just have to try your best to enjoy Juvy, then
it’s military school after that, if any will even take you. He looked over at me with a mad smile
as he set a nail into the wood of the windowsill. Just before the hammer struck down, the sound
of our garbage cans being ransacked could be heard from below.
“What the fuck is that!?” My stepfather put the hammer and nails down and opened the
window inquisitively. As he leaned out to look down, he let out a quick piercing scream. In less
than an instant his body was ripped from the room and out the window. I could hear his
screaming continue as I ran from my bed and looked up into the sky. Flying away fast, and
quickly becoming nothing more than a dot in the night sky was Dragon, with my stepfather
firmly grasped in his jaws.
That was the last time I ever saw Dragon (Or my stepfather). Like I said earlier I wasn’t
sad about it anymore. I had accepted it already, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad he got him
out of my life before he went ha ha. He wasn’t quite done helping me though, just three days
after the crazy events on Halloween night my mother and I returned to see our house on fire. The
homeowner’s insurance ended up being enough for my mom and I to move to a much better area
in new state. As I continued to grow up, I slowly came out of my shell. I made friends, had a few
girlfriends, went off to college, and did well enough to pursue a PhD.
I’m now happily married with a beautiful wife and two sons of my own. I still think
about Dragon quite often. There’s no logical explanation of course, and I’ve never taken the time
to tell the story for the simple fact that it would be looked at as insane ramblings.
I decided to type this now, as I think I may have made a breakthrough in the case.
Walking with my dog through the forest near my house I came across something that instantly
caught my eye. There a slight way through the trees off the beaten path, was a lump of earth. A
lump too perfect to be there. A large circle of protruding earth that, really, had no business being there.