Trading Fears

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Heck, what was I thinking? Dragons weren’t even supposed to be real.

But now, one of them had me beneath its claws, huge emerald eyes piercing into mine. My lungs stung as the ancient being over me radiated the overpowering scent of burning pine, like a whole forest of the conifer trees set ablaze.

Just moments before, I had been sprinting carefree through Fox Valley, a favorite childhood spot my family used to visit to escape the cement ocean of Chicago. Now, I was about to die.

I clenched my eyes shut, pure animal fear taking over. Would it incinerate me with one fiery breath? Would I feel its huge silver talons crush my ribs and pierce my heart? Would it tear my limbs off one by one with its powerful jaw?

A kaleidoscope of scenes shifted through my mind’s eye. So, this was what it was like to have your life flash before your eyes. Good god, I had lived a dull life.

Visions of the small suburb I had lived the majority of my life appeared before me. Rows of identical houses lining my street like the perfect teeth of a predator. Falling asleep in classrooms as the clock on the wall ticked away. Nights spent in the company of a giant screen, headphones on and remote control in hand, blocking out the anger and profanities my parents flung at each other, per the usual. I would spend my nights in the safety and comfort of another world. One where I could always be the hero and mistakes could be undone.

Dying by dragon would be the highlight of my life, actually. The only other interesting thing about me was my unexplainable fear of elevators. At least I wasn’t dying by elevator.

Hot breath spread across my face in a wave as the dragon sniffed me. Why didn’t it just end me already? Was it going to torture me for hours like a cat with a mouse? That would be just my luck.

Strangely, it’s breath didn’t feel as I had imagined dragon breath would feel. It was like the gentle warmth and comfort of a fire on a winter’s day.

I dared to open my eyes only to be swallowed by the huge emerald pools of the dragon’s irises, like an endless sea of untamed forest. The intricate pattern of the dragon’s funeral grey scales turned a softer silver around its eyes, snout, and mouth. Sheer awe shuddered through my body as the sensation of power, filled with both terror and goodness all at the same time cascaded over me.

For a moment, a strange haze fell over me, like I had dropped out of space and time completely. I was flying, soaring through endless azure skies, unbearably free, the wind racing around me, wild and fierce. Knowledge crowded my mind, ancient secrets that must never be told. Sparks tickled my throat, not burning me, but spreading into the air in a sparkling mist before me. What was happening? Why…why was I…

“Aiden, we have been waiting for you.” A clear, bell-like voice rang through my mind, laced with sparks, wisdom, and magic. “We are waiting.”

I woke up swimming in my own sweat, heart trying to escape my chest in terror, head spinning uncontrollably.

Breath. Deep breaths. Just a dream. It’s not real. It can’t be real. I thought to myself.

The same nightmare, or very similar ones, had haunted me for months on end, relentlessly disturbing my sleep each night. At some point, I thought I would get used to these dreams. Get over them, move on. Why was I so deathly afraid of dragons all of a sudden? It didn’t make sense.

Yet, during the day, memories of these unbelievably vivid nightmares raced through my mind, unbidden and definitely unwanted. Focusing on my schoolwork was near impossible. My grades had fallen two letters since the nightmares started. I was pretty sure my parents thought I was on drugs and were getting ready to have a full-blown intervention. But how was I supposed to explain to anyone that I was having deeply disturbing nightmares about…dragons. I was going to be locked up in a psych ward somewhere for sure.

I groaned under my breath as I got up to change out of my drenched clothing. As I did, something clattered to the floor, making me jump and nearly fall over. My heart skittered around my chest like an insect trying to escape a jar as I frantically smashed my hand against the wall trying to find the light switch. As the light flipped on, I stood blinking in the unbearable brightness for a few moments. Rubbing my burning eyes, I knelt to see what had so rudely startled my already anxiety-riddled body.

Small, shiny, grey objects, slate-like in texture and very thin, littered my floor. I picked one up, feeling the hard material in my hands, very similar in shape and size to a guitar pick. As my fingers brushed over the smooth surface, realization hit.

Dragon scales. They were dragon scales. This could not be happening. No, no, no...

I hurtled towards the bathroom, stomach twisting as I hurled into the toilet. I collapsed onto the bathroom floor in a cold sweat, shaking uncontrollably. I had really lost it. I really did need to be locked up somewhere. Apparently, all the fantasy video games I had spent my life playing really had rotted my brain, like my mom constantly told me they would.

After laying pressed against the cold tile for a while, I stood, washed my face, toweled dry, and stared at myself in the mirror. Same average 10th grade boy with brown hair and zit-covered face. Same unbelievably mediocre human being. Same wretched creature who was pretty much done existing. The only striking feature I possessed were my slightly golden eyes, not that they had gained me anything in life.

Aiden. Pull it together. Dragons are definitely not real. And if they are, they aren’t hanging around Chicago. I thought to myself.

Staggering back out to my bedroom, the dragon scales still lay on my floor, just as real as could be. Falling face first into bed, I passed out, grateful for a few moments of peaceful, dragon-free sleep.

* * *

“Don’t disagree with me.” She said, standing with an expression I couldn’t quite describe on her face.

“I’m taking the stairs. Using the stairs is better for my health. Gets my heart rate up. Good workout.” I snapped back.

“We are at the Willis Tower in Chicago, and you are not climbing up 103 flights of stairs. Get in the elevator now!”

This strange and demanding girl, about my age, grabbed my arm with surprising strength, pulled me into the elevator very much against my will and smashed the close door button with unbelievable speed and agility. Sheer terror consumed me as the door to this nightmarish casket snapped closed, sealing my certain death.

Minutes before this, I had been standing in front of the Willis Tower elevators shaking in fear. I came here on a weekly basis and stood staring at the elevator doors. I had always wanted to visit the famous Skydeck near the top of the Willis Tower as long as I had lived in Chicago. There was just one problem -the elevators. Specifically, my gut-wrenching fear of them.

And yet, some weird, bizarre part of me came here regularly, even though I knew that I couldn’t bring myself to get on the elevators. The nightmares of last night had driven me to search for some kind of distraction, some kind of escape from the reality of the dragon scales on my bedroom floor. And what better way to drown a fear then with an even bigger fear? So, here I stood, in front of the elevators at the Willis Tower.

As I stood in the back of the buzzing crowd waiting for the elevators, my heart banged on my ribs like a prisoner begging for release. The elevator doors slid their steel jaws open, devouring another mouthful of people, forcing me closer to them. Nausea boiled inside of me at the thought of the walls of the confined space closing in on me, trapping me forever. Or worse yet, the grinding and snapping of gears breaking and metal giving way as the whole steel box dropped from the air. Whose manic idea was it to haul people up in the air inside tiny, metal boxes with just a fragile, faulty mess of gears and wires? Sweat started to pour down my face as a girl appeared next to me. She didn’t look familiar, yet she distracted me momentarily from the waves of doom washing over me.

Even though it was a hot summer afternoon, she wore a sweater, a dull funeral grey in color. Her eyes were a striking emerald green, a stark contrast to her dark raven hair. She held herself with the confidence and indifference of royalty.

My attention was quickly pulled back to the closing elevator doors. Panicking, I pretended to hear my phone ring, put it to my ear, and said, “Mom, is that you? What happened? Uncle Louie died?”

I then darted out the doors of the building. I waited for about twenty minutes outside, then resolutely walked back into the building. Not that it would make a difference, but at least a different group of people would be waiting, and no one would question why I had been standing there for so long. Grey Sweater Girl still stood there, as though she had been waiting for me. Something about her emerald eyes seemed familiar.

“Come on, let’s get on the elevator.” She said in a very matter-a-fact tone.

“No…I can’t. I am taking the stairs.” I explained.

“Excuse me, you’re what now? Get on the elevator.”

“No. No way.”

And that is how I had ended up in this situation, facing my certain death.

My stomach dropped sickeningly to my toes as the elevator took off. My pulse pounded deafeningly loud in my ears, drowning out the disgustingly cheerful informational video playing overhead. My thoughts shattered like glass as I rushed for the door, pleading, pounding, and prying at it in vain.

“Why? Why would you do this to me?” I turned on Grey Sweater Girl in a panicked rage.

“Relax.” She grabbled my shoulder with surprising firmness and strength, the scent of warm, sun-scorched pine washing over me. Again, the strange feeling of déjà vu, of something being familiar, crept over me as I locked eyes with her emerald ones once again.

Another wave of panic overtook me, and I fell to the floor shaking. I spend the rest of the elevator ride curled into a tight ball on the floor, sobbing in a completely embarrassing scene I hope to block from my memory forever.

Finally, when I had given up all hope, when I had accepted this elevator as my eternal resting place, the doors miraculously opened. I flung myself out, landing face first on the floor, sobbing in relief. Thankfully, there were few people paying enough attention to witness this scene, but those who were cast a range of looks from judgmental, to worried, to just plain confused.

“Get up, Aiden.” Grey Sweater Girl rolled her eyes at me, stepping over my body as I lay on the floor.

“How do you know my name?” I asked. She didn’t answer me and started walking towards the infamous Skydeck, sunlight framing her graceful figure. Anger now rising in me after the humiliation of being forced into an elevator against my will by a complete stranger who now apparently knew my name, I got to my feet and staggered after her. I stumbled out onto the Skydeck next to her, breathless, flushed, and fighting mad.

“What’s your name? And what gives you the right to force innocent bystanders into elevators?” I practically yelled at her.

“My name is Tanwen.” Her emerald eyes pierced mine once again as the stunning city scape stretched out beyond her. My heart seemed to shiver, skipping a beat. Struggling to take a deep breath, I chalked it up to the intense stress I had just been subjected to.

“Look, Aiden. Look at the endless sky. Tell me, does something stir within you?”

I gazed out at the endless city expanse rising before me, turning a deep gold in the dusky light. My eyes skimmed over the dozens of soaring skyscrapers, who many an architect had slaved to create. My gaze shifted to look down between my feet to the 2.6 million people scurrying around like rodents in a maze. Each one in a desperate hurry to get here, to run there, accomplish this, achieve that. And for what? We all would end up six feet beneath the ground. None of it really mattered, no matter how beautiful it appeared.

Feeling despair deep in my soul, I pulled my head up to look at the infinite curve of the golden sky. The sun shone in my eyes, warming my face, as I squinted up at the pure, permanent sky. I felt a familiar feeling. The feeling that haunted me. The real reason my nightmares tortured my every waking moment. The longing, the desperate yearning for the freedom I felt in those dreams. I felt a fire, a literal fire burning inside me. Flying. I wanted, I needed to fly.

My head spun. I turned away from the awe-striking scene before me to look into Tanwen’s sparkling emerald eyes again, now illuminated by rays of amber sunlight. The dragon. The funeral grey scales, the emerald eyes, the scent of pine, the feelings and visions overpowering me. Swallowing down the panic rising in me, I looked down to see dragon scales on my hand. Black dragon scales embedded in my own skin.

What is happening? I thought.

“Are you… you can’t be…this can’t be happening. This isn’t real.” I began stuttering incoherently and felt my vision fray into mist, on the verge of blacking out. Tanwen’s next words floored me, literally.

“Yes, I am. But so are you.”