When he got the news that day,
his mother had said,
“Quick, go to your room.”
The look on her face
Ashen and strained.
His father in a desert
a world away.
Dead.
No, that’s not what she said.
How could it be?
His father the teacher,
the everyday architect of his dreams.
“He’s not coming back.”
Her words like the steel grating
that pinned a formidable dragon hither.
His father the peacekeeper
In a world that couldn’t care less about peace,
somewhere on the edges of an alluvial fan in the shadow of a cave,
his father fell in the dust.
Returned to the earth.
His father the artist
taught him to make
origami dragons.
Small, stalwart,
the edges of their tiny hindquarters folded sharp.
Dragons, chiseled, tight
consumers of fire and flesh.
Afraid of nothing.
As he listened to the sounds of his mother’s melancholy voice,
his mind racing to a spot where
sands shape souls.
He could create and call upon the creatures,
Veins carved into their serpentine being.
These immortal dragons, capable of conquering deserts,
devouring up the sediment evil
and the impassive ignorance
of men at war.
About the Creator
Lana Broussard
Lana Broussard writes primarily under the pen name, L.T. Garvin. She writes fiction, poetry, essays, and humor. She is the author of Confessions of a 4th Grade Athlete, Animals Galore, The Snjords, and Dancing with the Sandman.
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Final Call
She flings her arms around my neck and squeezes me like she’s never going to let me go. My head spins as her lips brush against my cheek. She must be able to feel my heart thumping in my chest. I shuffle backwards and ram my hands into my coat pockets, watching her reach down and heave the rucksack across her shoulders.
By Caroline Craven4 days ago in Fiction
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