How to Slay a Dragon

Wake in the night to a warm tingle on your thigh.

No smoke, no rotten gasps by your ear, no looming silhouette under the glow of your lamp.

Discover the assailant — a stray droplet, now captured by pyjama fabric.

Get up.

Tug the wet cotton from your skin, and the yellowed linen from your bed.

Cover your soft spots with fresh armour: pyjamas from your drawer, the ones your Ma bought back when your Dad used to bring her flowers.

‘You’ll grow into them, Bud,’ your Ma had said, tugging at the loose sleeves. Now, they’re a size too small; long overdue hand-me-downs for Ollie. It’s you, and Ollie and your Ma that bring flowers for your Dad now, and pluck the weeds around his headstone on weekends, but only when Wayne’s not around. He gets loud when you talk about your Dad.

Gather the sheets.

Approach the doorway.

Know you aren't supposed to go through it. Not at this hour.

Stare back at your stripped bed. Tremble in the cool night air.

Tell yourself you'll be quick: in and out with fresh bedding before the dragon stirs.

Embark on your quest, ball of yellowed shame in hand.

Traverse the moonlit hallway, across the forbidden lands.

Tiptoe past the room where the dragon slumbers, then past Ollie’s too.

Don’t look at the dust covered portraits on the wall, or the smiles you’ve since forgotten.

Press on, but be careful not to wake him.

Step over bottles and cans that have spilled from the recycling bin by the kitchen, reeking of fire and dragon breath.

Hear the sharp clang of tin as your foot grazes an empty can.

Freeze.

Listen.

Surrender the air from your lungs.

Glance back at the door to the dragon’s lair — still closed.

Dump the linen in the laundry and start your journey back.

Pause as a shadow looms at the end of the hallway.

Stifle your scream.

Can it see you in the darkness?

Scramble for a flicker of hope then watch it splutter out.

Stand paralysed as the dragon closes in, then feel the world fall away as it slithers off course and into Ollie’s room instead.

Feel relief. Then guilt. Then nausea, thick bile bubbling up your throat.

Let tears fall from your cheeks.

Feel hopeless.

Feel broken.

Feel angry. 

Remember what your Dad told you, back before they pulled his body from the wreckage of his car, 'Taking care of Ollie when Ma and I aren’t around. That’s the big brother's job — your job. Always.'

Wonder what will happen if you fail him, like your Ma failed you.

Decide it’s not an option.

Take a breath, then another, and charge onwards down the hallway, footsteps echoing like a war cry, and barge into Ollie’s room.

Find the dragon lingering over him, his tiny form cocooned in fabric.

Feel words rumble up from your guts and shout.

Watch the dragon recoil in the darkness.

Flinch as its nostrils flare, eyes burning with rage.

Step back towards the doorway.

Hear Ollie call for you in the shadows. 

'George?'

Stand your ground, for him, and stutter out more feeble words.

Leave him alone!’

Shrink under the dragon’s shadow. Feel his grasp pressing down on you, silencing you, pushing you into the floorboards, then panic as your Ma’s dazed voice comes from the hallway. 

'What’s going on?' she asks.

Abandon your courage, words lodged in your throat, and let the dragon take over.

Listen to it whisper into the night, twisting words and chanting spells. 

'Sleepwalking…Concerned…Wet the bed…Came to help…'

Watch it entrance your Ma as it always does.

'C'mon, back to your room,' she says, escorting you down the hallway. The dragon lingers behind you, tracing every step.

Wonder if Ollie knows the dragon is hunting him too now. That it'll come for him again.

Know that you can't let that happen.

Stop.

Snatch your Ma's hand.

Push the words up and out of your throat.

Tell her about the dragon that haunts your room at night, with lingering claws and smoky breath.

Tell her what it did to your body, your mind, your soul.

Tell her that Ollie isn’t safe, that none of you are, that you need to run.

Feel the panic set in when she doesn’t and stands there in the shadow of the dragon instead. 

Wonder if this will be the end of you, if the dragon will swallow you all down for good.

Let your Ma pull you in behind her as she stands between you and the beast.

Watch as she points a finger at the front door, sharp and fearless; a knight with no armour.  

'How could you?' she booms, stern and steady, her fierce gaze directed at the dragon. 'Get out.' 

Watch the dragon shrivel and squirm, threading more lies and pleading for mercy. But they don’t work this time. The truth has poisoned it. Your Ma’s gaze is unwavering, and the dragon melts. In its wake lies Wayne, a small man, pale and trembling.

Watch him drag his feet and disappear through the front door. Banished.

Let your Ma pull you in, her eyes wet but lucid now.

Listen to her splutter apologies as she sobs and says how much she loves you both.

Know that you're safe now.

Know that you’ve won.

Over days, then weeks, then years, learn to escape the gravity of it all.

Grow older, and taller.

Go to college.

Study science, and art, and the world.

Get a job.

Travel.

Explore.

Meet people.

Meet the one.

Fall in love.

Start a family.

Raise them.

Listen to them.

Love them.

Be there.

Be stern.

Be kind.

And when they wake in the night, damp with fear, calling for you because they dreamt about monsters, hold them tight.

Tell them there's a reason monsters hide in the shadows and feast on our silence.

Tell them yes, sometimes, monsters do exist.

But only if we let them.