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and the Invading Dragon

By A.C. SweetPublished 4 months ago 3 min read
Photo by Taylor Wright on Unsplash

The first air I recall was permeated with pine. The first light I saw was red, then green, then blue, then all the others that cascaded down the short evergreen which rested just in sight behind him.

He was the one I would love. The one I would marry. I would be his partner.

And I was!

We danced his thoughts onto that matte sheet all the way to the edge. I would fly nearer his breath as he brought over a new sheet for us to continue.

Oh! Our time was the best… it was all I knew… all I have ever known.

Now I am resting in an odd place. I’ve never seen it before. I am against this semi-smooth cliff where above I hear constant scuffles. My bed is wet and mingled with needles from that pine I once knew at birth. Rubber rounds roll heavily carrying fiber and metal boxes of odd varieties.

I am unaware of how I got here. The last comfort I knew was in his hand doing a dance on a small pad where he had me spinning about some dragon invading a modern town already suffering an isolating winter in the mountains. Suddenly, I wake here, my feet covered and warm.

How long have I been here? Why am I here? What happens to the town?

I am always filled with questions, and he always brings answers out of me… I think I miss that – Oh! What is this? I am being lifted again! Oh, yes! I will dance again!

Wait! No, no!

“Don't pick up trash, Julian!” A voice rings as I meet my former pine needle and water bed.

That drop hurt!

Who’s Julian? That’s not his name… what was his name? Alan, Adam, Anton? Why can't I remember? Ugh! He always helped me remember.

What is this now? I hear a scratching and a rapid sniffling… I see nostrils – giant ones – flicking about. Is this a dragon? Please leave me be, dragon! Oh, its breath is rancid! Why must it slobber on me?

Wait! Is this the town? He never told me what happens!

Thank goodness! The floppy, smelly dragon is gone. Is that all dragons do? Come and go. I would know for sure… if I was still with him.

Did he leave? Did I leave? Have I gone? Has he gone?

Again, only questions. Will I always have questions?

Is the light dimming? What did he call that big light? That one he loved. He would have us dance about it a lot. Why won't he dance with me now? I am ready to dance again.

Was it dance? Is that what we did?

Ugh! Why must I be like this? Is this why he left? Or is it that I didn’t dance right?

Oh! I swear I will dance better!

Can he hear my cries? Can anyone? Would he or anyone come?

Am I trash that Julian tried to lift? Am I a resident of the town invaded by dragons?

There is less scuffling above. That big light has walked out of sight, but small lights are on. Are they lights? Are they enough to keep me safe?

“Andy? We are running so late! We'll never find it.” A lilting voice comes.

“I am sure this is where I last used it.”

Why is that second voice comforting?

“Is it that important?”

“It's mine. The best one.” That second voice returns.

“It's just a pen, Andy.”

“It's not just a pen!”

Why does that hurt and also make me happy? What is Andy? What is not-just-a-pen?

Oh! I will never know! Will I?

“Lisa! I found it!”

What is Lisa? What is it?


PsychologicalShort Story

About the Creator

A.C. Sweet

Inspired by the beauty of the Pacific Northwest, and fueled by stories of all kinds since childhood, one of my favorite passions and goals is to connect and understand through the written word.

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