Angelica's Dragon

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. I didn’t always sleep under the stars.

The day they came started the same as any other. I rose early in the morning and got ready for the long day ahead. The cows needed milking, the chickens’ feed had to be laid, and their eggs collected into the old wire basket of my mother’s mother. I was out the door as the first early rays of summer stretched over the horizon like stray hairs brushed by the breeze.

That’s when I saw them. They were strange silhouettes gilding along the skyline. I paused to watch, not knowing what they were. My mind raced while they grew larger by the moment. They were exactly how I imagined them to be when I was a small child and my granddad sat me on his knee. He had told me all that he knew about them. They were the reason why he had left the grand city of Gravado. They were the reason why he had abandoned all of his dreams of blacksmithing the perfect sword for the prince’s knighting.

Though the dragon’s fire had taken his ear, leaving the left side of his face tight and marbled, he was happy. He lived a lifetime away from the city, married a sweet farmgirl, and built a home that kept our family safe.

“Home, family, and a little room to breathe,” he would tell me as he planted a kiss on my cheek. “That’s all you need in life.”

Suddenly, five years after his passing, they came. The dragons came over the horizon, gilding through the air like clouds blown by the wind. With them, they brought their fire.

And with their fire, they scorched the Valley. The rolling fields of golden wheat were burnt to ash. Every home, coop, and barn were sparked into fireballs across the village. Fruit trees were set ablaze like stars that fell from the sky. Black smoke rolled through the air, drowning all.

When I realized it was them, I abandoned my tasks, dropping the egg basket into the grass. I ran into the house and woke my father.

“They’re here! Get up, we have no time.” I pressed on his chest, rousing him from his slumber. “Get up.”

I raced to the other side of the bed and scooped my younger brother into my arms.

“Angelica, what’s the matter?” My father sat up, rubbing his eye.

“It’s the dragons,” I said as I grabbed my brother’s shoes and shoved them into my apron pocket.

My father stood from the bed and raised his voice. “The what?”

“Dragons.” In the doorway of the bedroom, I held my brother close. I had done all I knew to do. “Where are we going to go?”

My father’s eyes widened in fear. “The cellar.”

I nodded and ran to the kitchen. My father was on my heels. With a grunt, he lifted the heavy cellar door. I went down the stairs and to the deepest corner. From above, my father hurried around the house, tossing things down. The comforter from his bed, wrapped cakes, coats: they came down in a flurry. Not a minute passed before my father was fighting against the metal door to get it closed. Careful to not wake him, I placed my brother on the cool floor and went to my father’s side. Together, we wrestled the door from its resting place to seal ourselves away in the cool darkness.

“Angelica?” My brother’s soft voice whispered. “Dad? Why are we in the cellar?”

“Jamie,” my father spoke in a gentle voice, low and comforting. “Stay there.”

The muffled screams of the other Valley dwellers sounded off like warning bells as the dragons reached the village. Suddenly, the ground shook.

“They landed.” I stared at the cellar door as if one of the beasts would open it.

My father clapped his hand over my mouth. “Hush, they can hear better than you think.”

“Dragons?” Jamie whined. My father lowered his hand from my face and ushered me back to the corner where Jamie waited.

I put my hands in my brother’s soft hair as he hugged my hips. “Yes, dragons.”

Jamie’s embrace left as my father took him into his arms.

Over the next few hours, heat radiated from the ceiling. We covered our ears and cowered in the deepest corner as the dragons had their feast and reined with terror. People screamed, wood crackled, animals moaned and yelled. The dragons roared.

Their claws raked against the metal cellar door as they stood on the remains of our family home. Jamie whined next to me. My father held his hand over Jamie’s mouth, not wanting the monstrous creatures to hear the boy’s whimpers.

As the day crept into the afternoon, the sounds of people and animals fell into the simple crackle of burning wood. The heat that rolled down from above cooled into a dull warmth. In the corner, my family breathed rhythmic, restful breaths as they slept, exhausted.

Are they gone? I laid my hand over my pounding heart and closed my eyes, trying to hear if anything moved above. Is the door still hot?

On my hands and knees, I crawled in the dark to the staircase. Step by step, I felt my way up. Slowly, I raised a hand toward the cellar door until I felt heat warm my skin. Afraid to get burned, I removed Jamie’s shoes from my apron pocket and placed them to the side. I folded my apron into a square pad.

My body shook as I laid the folded cloth between my hands and the metal door. With gritted teeth, I used all my strength to push against the door. For a moment, the hinges moaned. Dust and ash fell as the door parted from the frame.

My muscles gave way to the weight. Dong. The door fell back into place.

“What? Angelica, stop.” My father whispered loudly at me from the corner. “You don’t know what’s out there.”

“It’s been quiet for a long time now,” I defended myself. “But, I think something fell on the door. Come help me.”

My father stirred. “How long has it been quiet?”

“Maybe three hours,” I said as I readied myself to push again. The stairs creaked as my father felt his way to my side. “Careful, the door is still warm.”

“Angelica, I think we need to wait a little longer.”

“How long? Through the night?” I wondered aloud. “There’s no reason to stay here any longer.”

My father sighed. “On three… One… two… three,” he counted off and we pushed together.

Orange firelight and debris floated through the narrow opening we made. Through the ash and smoke, I saw my first dragon up close. It was smaller than I imagined but still larger than any animal I had ever seen. Black scales shone in the flames as it nosed around the remains of the barn. Its thick tail swung through what was left of one of the walls as it turned toward us. My heart jumped as its golden eye flickered up at me. It lifted its head, showing the white scales of its underside. My father saw its eyes recognize us, too. He dropped his support.

I held my breath, trying to keep the door cracked. A moment later, my body gave into the weight. The door slammed shut. Thud.

“Oh no.” My father grabbed my arm and ripped me from the stairs. He dragged me back to the deepest corner.

“What did you see?” Jamie asked.

Sniff, sniff.

A loud breathing sound came from the other side of the door. Jamie grabbed the back of my skirt. His short arms wrapped around my hips. I felt my father’s hand search for the young boy’s head.

The cellar door cried as the dragon ran its claws across it. Jamie screamed, burying his face. Whatever was laying across the door was pushed out of the way as the beast dug at the metal. I covered my ears to protect them from the echoing sound of pawing. Jamie’s hold vanished as my father took him into his arms.

I held my breath as the noise stopped. Then the sound of fire began again. The cellar door lightened into molten red. I moved my hands and shielded my face as black claws tore through the softened metal. The dragon ripped the door from its hinges like plucking a weed from the yard. Jamie shrieked in terror. My father slapped his hand over his mouth. I was breathless.

Late afternoon light flooded the cellar. The dragon stuck the beginning of its snout into the hole and sniffed. Glowing embers fell from its nostril as it breathed out. It lifted its snout away from the opening.

My father tried to peel Jamie from his arms but my brother clung to my father as if he would drop dead if he was put down.

“Angelica, go over to those shelves and move the preserves out of the way. Hurry!”

I ran to the other side of the room, glancing up at the dragon as I passed the opening. The dragon was staring down at me. It wrapped its claws around the cellar door frame and scratched. Cracks riddled the ceiling.

Jars of preserves rattled as I pushed them out of the way.

“What am I looking for?” I yelled, feeling my heart in my throat. Dust fell from above as the dragon slammed its foot down.

“Granddad’s sword.”

I groped around the back of the shelf until my fingertips grazed metal. To the left, then to the right, I felt around until I found the handle. My elbow pushed a jar of apple jam from the shelf onto the floor. It shattered, spreading fruit and sugar onto the ground.

At the sound, the dragon’s pawing stopped. A shadow casted over the room. I turned to see one of the dragon’s golden eyes peering down from the opening.

“Strike it before it cooks us!” My father yelled at me.

I gripped the heavy weapon and dragged it from the shelf, knocking another jar onto the floor. My skirt ruffled behind me as I ran to the staircase. I stepped up. The dragon’s silted pupil examined me. Though the room was warm, I was chilled to my bones at the idea of striking the great beast. The shining gold of its iris made me think it would bleed coins. Every hair on my body stood on end and my palms dripped sweat. A moist film ran over the creature’s eye.

What do I look like to you?

“Do it now!” My father’s voice boomed.

With all my might, I brought the sword up. The blade sliced through the delicate membrane. It pulled back with a roar, snatching the handle from my grip.

Empty handed, I fell off the step onto my backside. Heat filled the air as the dragon blew a pillar of flames toward the sky. It stretched out its massive wings and took off with the sword still stuck in its eye.

I scrambled to my feet and clamored up the steps on my hands and knees, my eyes watching every beat of its wings. I stood in the smoldering remains of my house and screamed at the shrinking shadow.

“Come back! Come back!” My voice caught and broke. “Come back.”

My father and brother were quick to follow me into the ruins of the house my granddad built.

“Angelica,” my father said as he put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay.”

I looked around our destroyed home. The barn, the chicken coop, and the fences that once drew the lines between us and our neighbors were unrecognizable. Every structure and crop were burnt and flattened. The Valley, still smoking and full of orange heat, had been destroyed.

“Everything is gone.” Tears streamed down my face. “That thing took everything from us.”

I threw myself at my father and he held an arm around me as I wept. It was some time before I pulled away.

“What do we do now?” I asked, feeling helpless and full of smoke.

My father sighed, taking Jamie’s shoes from his pocket. He gave them to me to put on my brother’s naked feet. “Now, we go get Granddad’s sword back.”