Deceit

There weren’t always dragons in the valley.

No, there weren’t. But everybody knew there had always been humans. “We” had always said so, and staked our claim long before anything else could even learn how to say such things.

These creatures… sentient as they were, the fae, the dragons, the nymphs. Had really welcomed us into their home, their land, even despite any initial distrust. The great trees that stood tall and the dens crafted from love, we had all taken it and torn it apart.

We, the humans- could always do what we set our minds to, as it was told, we could’ve conquered the world. Yet kind as these creatures were never thought less of us for our power, always welcomed us into their dens of stone despite our dens of gold. Always offered good luck, health, and prosperity when we fell into our own conflicts against ourselves. Meddled into our own disagreements out of fear for our safety.

Yet in just what seemed like a few short years, the nymphs that resided by the rushing water of the riverbank, that had seen so much laughter and dance and song in time had fallen to our greed, our corruption ruined them, left them with an overwhelming sadness that killed them.

How had the mermaids stopped singing their songs of good fortune and gentle tides? How had we turned so quickly to hating them and seeking them to lay their bodies on ships and desecrate their bodies when just a while we spent years sailing the seas trying to hear their song.

How could we contain the dragons from their shows of flight and fury, from the gentleness they bestowed upon us to the aggression we did to them. Selling their hide and scales and bones, how had we been so ruthless. To treat the unicorns as though royalty, only a gift sent from lands beyond the valley and then to take their horns. How could we betray the pegasus, a gift from the gods, who had helped us achieve great victories.

How could we? Well, because while perhaps there weren’t always dragons in the valley, there had always been humans. We destroyed these creatures and we destroyed the land too, now there wasn’t even a valley to call home, we had all destroyed it in our wake.

As Robyn closed the book she sighed softly at her wailing siblings. She didn’t know why she had picked this book, she knew better not too. Yet her siblings' insistent eyes told her she didn’t have a choice. She swallowed another sigh, this was kind of her fault.

“Please quiet down otherwise you’ll wake mum, you know she has to wake up early,” Robyn said seriously, bringing a finger to her mouth, “And besides, you know that isn’t real right?

Jay’s voice trembled in hiccups as his lower lip wobbled and even more unshed tears in his eyes. Always a crier, even at the ripe age of 10, Robyn thought.

Both her brother and sister, Wren protested in a mix that was both a scream and a whisper, one voice slightly more cracked, “But Robyn, that was so sad! Even though it’s just fiction… How could those humans be so mean? Killing all their friends like that!”

Wren nodded in agreement. “I think you’d have to be heartless to not feel anything, honest! Those poor nymphs and dragons, I felt so bad… But we never did anything like that, right? Right? And! If we did, they started it first, didn’t they?.”

Robyn looked at both her siblings, “I mean… Obviously it’s fiction, we’ve all attended at least one history class or cracked open a book on the murders that mythics have done to humans, or the wars raged between us. It was a political book defying our treatment of mythics and the history our government teaches us. It’s all nonsense, honest.” Robyn paused and took a deep breath when she saw the worry in their eyes. “Don’t worry about this stuff, you’ll understand a bit more when you're older, and when you get more sleep. It’s time for bed.” At that, her siblings let out whines and protests in their own manner.

She chuckled at their complaints as she dragged them into bed, she tucked them in tightly, saying goodnight as she called out to turn the lights off. Setting an alarm for the morning, and a melodic lullaby to soothe them to bed. They were restless sleepers, and she'd rather not give them nightmares.

Going down the stairs as quietly as possible she made to put away the mess her siblings made, she turned to the book, innocently closed shut from when she had read it last just minutes ago. She doesn’t even know why she read it, thinking back, and feels a tinge of guilt at their startled reactions.

Those kinds of books were barely regarded as “political statements” at best. These kinds of books were seen more as hoaxes than anything. The authors ridiculed and shamed. Even though Robyn never really believed these stories (I mean, who would?), the type that has romanticized the monsters that killed many. She found them entertaining, and admittedly; very interesting.

She’d read this book a few times too many times, she thought the writing was insightful, more so than most of the other entries of these “times from history” that she found had come across as empty. But this one- certainly succeeded in capturing an audience, even if it was deceitful in its manners, she’d find the author’s writing to come across as very genuine.

Even more so when at the back, the personal overview of the author felt personal, even more so than the writing in the book. Borderline uncomfortable.

“A book dedicated to telling the stories of my friends, and family. Even if they should not think of me as such, I would do anything to give their home back. This book is my first step to doing so.”

P.F, the initials were signed in cursive penmanship, the ink bleeding through the pages, sloppily there were a few smudges and fingerprints. Vastly different from the small, neat, orderly print that the rest of the book was written in.

Robyn shook her head to clear herself of these thoughts, she could almost hear her mother’s voice in her head as the time blinked a glowing 10:40 on the wall. Standing on her tiptoes, she pushed the spine in slowly. Sighing; she went to prepare for bed herself, going to her room as quietly as possible.

Turning the knob on her own melodic alarm, she found herself drifting off quickly. Her last thoughts trailing back to the book despite her best interest. What a looney. Robyn laughed almost deliriously in the dark by herself, the rushing and bustling city outside her window almost seemed to come to a dull stop as sleep overcame her.

She had a nightmare for the first time that night.