Angsty Teen Dragon

There weren't always dragons in the Valley …

It isn’t like they never existed. But they lived out of sight, in the shadows, blending in with the likes of mortal sapiens, such as you. You know those shadows. The ones that make you flinch when you’re walking home at night. Once you turn around, ready to whack the intruder with your soft, cushiony purse, you realise it’s just a bush. You find yourself foolish because you were about to go all Hannibal Lecter on a shrub that has greyed from the night, making it seem somehow more vulnerable. In the wind, its leaves rustle a mocking turn of phrase. But I am pleased to tell you that in fact, you are right to wield your wouldn’t-hurt-an-intruder weapon. Okay, fine. A purse would hurt if you slammed it with your full force of adrenaline. Happy? Well, back to me. It’s never a bush that startles you.

It's a dragon. Sort of like me.

They don’t only live in the shadows. For example, I go to school with some of you. Huntington Valley Secondary School. That school in the depths of the valley, in the centre of England, near the highlands. You know the one. Or you don’t. It’s not important. But I go to school, and I learn boring science. And I mean, boring. None of those fun volcanoes and erupting chemical combinations that you see in the movies. I’ve made my point. Though, I don’t remember what quite started me on that science tangent, but anyway …

You remember those teens, who hid their angst beneath piercings and tattoos? Don’t purse your lips like that, like you’re judging those angsty teens, making you feel superior. Because you’re not. Oh yes … you do know … you know which teens I’m talking about. The ones your parents use as an example for you not to copy.

“Don’t ever cover yourself with ink and metal. It’s trashy.”

“I thought those tattoos were their actual clothing.”

And my personal favourite. “Would you ever put a bumper sticker on a Bentley?”

We all know those angsty teens. I know. Because I’m one of them.

Well, you can close your mouth and hide your surprise. I said, close your mouth. I’m not continuing until you shut your gods-cursed sapien mouth … Better.

Where was I? Oh, yes. Can I tell you a secret? Those tattoos and piercings that slowly start appearing. Those are my scales. Quite frankly, I have no idea what idiot sapien feigned the fact that dragons have shiny scales and snouts. It’s crazy. We dragons look a lot like you. Only difference is our amber eyes, magic and tattoos. Dragons have always had the distinguishing ink that links them to their ancestors. Mine are rounded leaves overlapping down the backs of my arms. Those were my first identifiers that I took after my mum.

My dad, poor sapien, had no idea that he had mated with a dragon. Because again, dragons look like you. But he loves my mum, and she loves him. Though, my mum was unsure whether I inherited her magic or not. It’s because my eyes are blue. She doesn’t know I’ve grown my scales. My softly drawn leaves. It’s been exactly two years, one month and three days since she returned to her clan. She always travelled back and forth there, basically leaving my dad to raise an angsty teen demi-dragon on his own. She can’t let the clan know that she gave birth to an abominable demi-dragon seventeen years ago. But no matter how long she’s gone—and this time has been the longest—I keep a fraction of her. Her family name, Malauditus, as my middle name.

She’s a part of the malauditus clan. I’m told we come from a long line of intelligent, powerful, magic-wielding, hard-of-hearing-like-elderly-sapiens dragons. Mum used to tell me that every family gathering was accompanied by a drinking game. Take a shot if you hear an “excuse me”, a “what did you say?”, a continued wrong conversation because someone misheard something somewhere. I’m like my mum’s side in that way.

I’m half-dragon, half-hearing.

By the way, I can’t fly either. Only pure dragons can. However, fire breathing is another story. If I’m really angry, I can set a fire with my skin. When I sizzle, spark or flame you only see a static shock. This is all thanks to the Veil—the shield that blurs our reality from you. It even blurs parts of the dragon world from demi-dragon me. Hides me from them. They can’t smell the sapien in me with the Veil. If they could sense that decaying smell on my skin, then I’d be dead quicker than a lightning strike.

You may be reading this, wondering why I’m writing to you. Why I’m confessing all about my species and our secrets. Well, sapien, this isn’t even the half of it. Everything will slowly start unravelling, becoming clearer in time. Even I don’t know everything that’s about to happen yet.

Because that Veil. That blessing in disguise. That entity which for so long has kept you safe. Has kept you from fully seeing us. Has kept full dragons from hunting and killing you and me.

That veil, my friend … it’s vanishing.

Sincerely,

Your angsty teen dragon

Epinine Malauditus Smith