Dragons Over Oklahoma

There weren't always dragons in the valley.

My Grandfather taught me about such things at a young age. My father, lost in the great war, never believed him. I however, was a wide eyed boy. Looking to take in the world with all it had to offer. A happy child with a full imagination.

So, my grandfather's stories of dragons flying over the skies of Oklahoma enraptured me. I would clasp on to those stories with my whole being, sucking each one down to the marrow for details. How did these dragons come about? What brought them to Oklahoma? Does anyone else know? My grandfather would always laugh. Winking a knowing eye to my grandmother as she worked the chores around the house.

"The dragons are quiet, secretive creatures. They wish not to be seen in the blue skies you see now." Grandfather pointed to the sky from the porch.

"These beautiful creatures hide within the storms. Sometimes, they are the very eye of the storm itself. Us Oklahomans understand not to be outside during a very strong storm, and to usher in our herds of animals when such a storm rises. Or else, one of the majestic dragons will snatch them up!" He snapped his fingers.

He chuckled seeing me react to the sudden movement. "The dragons look to survive. By hiding in these storms they can hunt and stretch out their aching wings. They should fly. Not a sight sadder than a dragon forced to crawl on land. And not a sight more beautiful than one in the sky."

I gasped in amazement. Looking out to the sky in hopes of seeing a dragon. When I looked back at him he was smiling. He took a sip of his iced tea and continued rocking back and forth on his swing.

"You know the native's found them first of course? This was their land. Unlawfully stolen from them. When our people settled Oklahoma, we took from the native's their stories, culture, and homes. In doing so, the Native's never revealed their most majestic discoveries. We were never to know of the dragons, or the jewels beneath our feet, or the spring of youth. No, such things were to be held secret. Lost forever."

I nodded my head obediently.

Grandfather sighed. "I'll... I'll tell you more stories another time Jeremiah. Go help your grandmother with the chores now." He moved towards his box of cigarettes, and I dutifully followed his orders.

Time went by.

I grew older. My teenage years were more focused on finding free smokes and chasing girls than anything fanciful. I skipped out on chores, got in trouble with the law, and began holding resentment for my grandparents. How come I got stuck with them? How come my mom didn't come find me after dad died? Why didn't she want me.

I remember an especially volatile argument I had with grandad. I'd come home on a weekday, drunk. He was cursing up a storm and throwing all the words the good lord never intended to be spoken at me. I laughed and lit up a smoke in front of his face. This set him off something righteous and next thing I knew I was on the ground with my face in the dirt.

Thankfully, Granny saved me from whatever wrath was to come and got us both inside. A storm had formed over the plains and was hitting our house as I sat inside the kitchen with my grandad. A piece of cold meat on my right cheekbone and glass of ice tea in front of me.

Grandfather was fuming silently across from me. The storm rattled the house, and thunder broke the silence with each flash of lighting outside. I'd flinch with each crash. I never liked storms. Teachers at school said I had some sort of condition that caused me to flinch at the drop of a hat. Storms just made it worse I guess.

Grandfather seemed to calm down. The storm had the opposite effect. He pulled out a cigarette and handed it to me, gesturing to follow him out to the porch. I took it. I didn't want to go outside, but I also didn't want to upset him anymore. So I followed.

The wind seems surprisingly still for such a storm to be kicking up. We could hear the rain rattle hard upon the porch roof. It would hold though, and we stayed dry while basked in the dim light of the lamp hanging near the door. Grandfather lit my cigarette, and I returned the favor.

"I know you're getting older. But, I've got plenty of dragon stories for you still. You know.... If you're interested." He mumbled the last part.

I nodded my head. Taking a draft from the cigarette.

"I was doing some survey work for a mining company years ago. I think your daddy was either still baking in the oven or was barely able to make out the world around him at the time. But, the money was good, and a job is a job." He took a pull from the cig.

"I get down into this valley out east. The company was looking to mine coal there and after some hours I was able to find a good enough location for them to setup. So, I make camp and start on my notes to take back to the company. I don't skim on a job either, no extra pay in that." He nodded his head, staring out into the storm.

"Night comes, and I see the makings of a furious storm coming through the valley. So I go looking for any caves or overhangs to shield me from the weather. In doing so, I came across a Cherokee Indian. He was a kindly fellow, went by the name of Ed. Tried telling me his Cherokee name but, I wouldn't have been able to pronounce it even if he'd written it down for me." He chuckled.

"Ed offered me stay at his camp and I obliged. Ed also had some hooch which I doubly obliged in. By the time the storm rolled in, we were drunk and full from the rations I had brought. He told me of his trek, hiking an old family trail on land his grandparents had once hunted on. I told him of my European heritage and what I remember of my own family. We laughed at jokes told and the comradery found in the dark."

"We get well into the night, and Ed looks at me. He says to me 'have you heard of dragons?' I tilted my hand so-so. I was never much one for fantasy I told him. He nodded and looked out at the storm. 'As unbelievable as it might sound. Such a creature is what caused this storm tonight, to hunt in the valley wishing to conceal itself. And, in the cover of rain and thunder this creature is out there searching for food. It is sad. There weren't always dragons in the valley."

"I was probably looking rather curious to Ed at this point, and he asked 'Do you wish to hear more of these dragons?' I nodded and pulled my coat further over me, wondering what the man would tell." Grandfather took another puff from his smoke.

"The Cherokee said, 'As nations grew stronger to the east. The dragons traveled across raging oceans. They knew that no human nation would allow them respite. Massive majestic creatures that stretched far across any farmers field. These beautiful beasts would be torn asunder just for being what they were. Something, unattainable by the powers of the east. Which, would lead to fear eventually. And fear leads to war." Grandfather sighed.

"He said, 'The dragons found the far plains of the south and the west. Not your America yet, and not inhabited by anything strong enough to kill them. The dragons were tired, and they rested. Lounging across the soft grass and caressed by cool winds, the dragons for once in a long time did not fear for their safety. And so they were able to enjoy this new found land for a time."

"Time goes fast for a dragon though. And it wasn't long before my ancestors decided to meet these extraordinary creatures. Maybe, they were not Cherokee. But they were natives to their rightful land, and these creatures were invaders in their own right. First it was raiding parties. Yet, once my people realized they could not harm these beings, they fled from any sightings of the dragons. Except the dragons were curious and would follow their settlements. A funny thought to think on I say."

"Eventually, my people attempted to interact with a dragon following them. The elders went out to it one night, making peace with the possibility of not coming back. The elders tried everything to communicate, yet the dragon stayed afloat upon the clouds watching them. Until, eventually it spoke."

"Fear the storms that move too quick. The thunder that roars too loud, and winds that shake the earth. Our presence will be known then. In the shadows of the tempests that torment this land."

"The dragon left after speaking. And my people did not see them any years after."

"Ed and I parted ways in the morning. The storm had passed, and it was time for me to leave with it. I took his information, but I can't say I've heard from him since then. I've always thanked him for that night though."

Grandfather went quiet, staring into the storm once more. Slowly, working down his cigarette.

I was traveling back home. I'd found a job delivering goods out of state, had my own truck and everything. Granny had passed shortly after I graduated, so work kept me from dwelling. Yet, there was no respite from the news I had received of recent. It was Grandfather's turn now. Not even two years after Granny passed, I got a letter from one of the neighbors he'd fallen ill and was in the county hospital. I told my boss. Boss told me I had to make a delivery first. So I told Boss I quit.

It wasn't long till I was at the County Hospital. They were quick to get me to his room. I could see why, whatever illness plagued him worked quickly. He barely seemed like the sad old man he was when I left. And no where near the sprightly grandpa I'd known him growing up. He smiled at me as I walked in, and I couldn't help but smile back. Tears forming in my eyes.

"Those roads must be long if you're already looking so old." Grandfather said with a grin. I hugged him.

"Nothing compared to the roads you'd been traveling," I said through pressed emotions. I could feel him smile even wider.

We caught up. I told him stories of the roads. Out to Kansas City, Memphis, hell even made it up to Chicago.

He would ask questions and nod along, grinning like a fool. As time went, I snuck him some cigs and beer. He was dying anyways, might as well enjoy himself. The days continued, and one night of playing spades lulled us both to an early sleep.

He woke me up with a pat on the arm. I groaned and rubbed my eyes. He smiled at me gently, and looked out the window.

"Remember those tales of dragons I used to talk of?" He said softly.

I nodded, though he may not of saw.

"I saw one once. A dragon in the storm."

I stayed quiet, watching him.

"We were working on the new house. The one you grew up in. I may not have built it with my own two hands, but I sure as hell finished it myself. The roof was leaking like hell and we could see a storm far off coming in fast. So I did what I could to fix it up in time. At least lessen the damage, you see."

He weakly took one of the cigarettes and held it up for me. I lit it for him and laid back in my chair.

He sighed, happily. "I labored on that roof for hours, waiting on the storm to come in. As the wind whipped wild, and the rousing noise of thunder rolled across the plains I caught myself suddenly in the thick of it. Rain plummeted down like bullets on a battlefield. Thunder was the cannon fire, and the wind was the enemy soldier beating my face bloody."

"Suddenly, I found myself falling. When I came too, I was somehow far far away from the house, in the middle of the field. The rain was still crashing down upon me, and the wind threatened to take me off my feet. One of the many times I feared for my life, I prayed I could make it back to the house alive."

"As I prayed, I looked up into the sky. Thunder crashed and lightning illuminated the swirling clouds above. Time seemed to slow as within these clouds I saw the outline of a creature. It was massive and moved slowly, its body turning and twisting back and forth. A shadow in the clouds, this creature drifted above in the skies with no beating of wings. It had four massive claws and a head as big as the farmhouse we lived in. I gasped in amazement. One of the most majestic sights I've ever seen. This creature paid me no mind and as time caught up it was lost within the darkness above. A darkness that held me hostage with rain and wind."

I noticed tears coming down his eyes. I started on my own cigarette, looking away from him.

"I never saw one again. Only ever able to cling to that memory and the stories I told your father before he went off to war. He of course enjoyed its fanciful tale, but never believed it could be true. Your grandmother of course, she'd say anything just to get me to shut up." He laughed.

"But you. You're different son. You understand there is more to this world than the hardships found in it. You're more than what this land wants to make of you, what anyone in town wants to make of you. You're my son. Just as much as your father was. Don't let a cynical world hold you back from its wonders. Don't hold yourself back."

I held his gaze. As tears formed in my eyes, I turned away and stood up. I told him I needed air.

That air cost me his last moments. The nurses and doctors tried to keep him alive. I came back in screaming, crying. Hoping he'd come back too. One of the bigger orderlies pushed me out to the hallway, trying to calm me down. It wouldn't have mattered. I wasn't in control of myself at that point.

It was up to me to bury him. The community loved him, just as they loved Granny. But, I didn't want that. I shouldn't have kept a ceremony from them. But they weren't the ones who stayed by his side for those last couple weeks. They didn't try to buy his house back. They didn't keep in touch. So I put that on me.

I took his body out to the plains. Near enough the old house to be meaningful, not close enough to get caught. I dug the hole. I put him in, and I covered it up. I said some words, and when I was able to rest. I couldn't tell if it was tears or rain on my face. What a horrible day for rain.