A Dragon's Tale

Just a little somethin somethin

 

As his profile loaded on the computer before her, she found her hands shaking on the keyboard, frightened of what she would discover. She had been searching for answers to questions she dared not ask, that she could not verbalize. As the page became clear she began to see what was on his blog – on “A Dragon’s Thoughts” he had written a story called A Fart Becomes Her. He had written it so skillfully, so full of passion, hurt, meaning, and yes - potty humor – he was always so creative, so talented; it was what she loved about him all along. He had chosen the symbol of the dragon, and it fit him well. Steely, hard protective on the outside, with a fire that rages uncontrolled within. Yet for how strong the dragon is, it can be mortally wounded with one blow at the right spot. She read it many times, and as she wiped the tears from her face, realization came into her heart, and the hurt she had felt for years and expressed over the past few months melted away. She felt like she was whirling through the wormhole, and suddenly she was not at her desk anymore, but inside the dragon, his “lizard lady” as he had called her in the past, merged together as one, her green eyes blazing, looking through his eyes, standing in his oversized shoes. As she looked out before her and over his soul, she felt the pain and anguish of his loss, the feeling like walking as if a ghost through the world, invisible, as if he has no value, no purpose – a shadow, shell of what he was meant to be. Wondering, worried about what he would become and do with the rest of his life.    Finding no comfort, no understanding of his issues. Struggling with the unrealized demon within. There were no more knights to fight, no castles to defend – just an empty sick sadness. He had wanted for just one moment to feel alive again, to be that fiery dragon and know victory, to have passion course through his veins, to connect with someone, something in the outside world. This other person had led him on, seduced him, never reaching the climax he seeked. This person used him and played with his emotions at a time when he was most vulnerable, and the sting of it was almost too much to bear. And worse, the dragonfly had found out, discovered things, and he had to deal with her hurt and anger, her outpouring of emotions, plus his own wounds. It was overwhelming to him. In that moment a rush of empathy crashed over dragonfly – she had taken this journey many years ago, felt unloved, unappreciated, unwanted by the world – like being lonely when standing in a crowded room. She had felt a similar sick sadness, and knew of the earthly weakness that he spoke about in the fable. She had been used and seduced, made the wrong choice, let it flame up and found only the burn of the pain and no answers. It had scorched her soul, burned her delicate wings. But worst of all, she had wounded her beautiful dragon.   And it all hit her like a blinding flash of light square between the eyes. The dragon was again wounded, but by another’s hand as well as his own. Dragonfly knew that the dragon’s fire had been dying for a long time, but she did not know how to help him, what to do for him, or if he would even accept help from her. She had so wanted to strike the match to help spark his flame, but was afraid that same flame would rage out of the dragon and would burn her wings again, destroy them forever, and that fear and helplessness frustrated her. But as she re-read the story again, she saw that written between the lines, he had made a choice. Not choosing the other person, but choosing himself. She then knew that this was not all about the other person, or about dragonfly, but the journey he had to take was about his own self-discovery, to feel the passion within, to feel alive again.   And it was not a journey that dragonfly could have helped him with as much as she wanted too, it was one he had needed to take on his own, to prove his worth to himself – to become what he was eventually meant to be in this world.   Pride welled up inside of her; the beautiful dragon that she loved would soon become a phoenix, rising from the ashes, taking on the shining form. But first, it would take time for the dragon to heal his wounds, and he would mourn the loss of the other person, rage at the injustice of it all. But the dragonfly could understand this, and knew that the only thing she could do was show patience, love and to give him the time and space he needed. Then she saw on the horizon that after this explosion, on this burning landscape, that they were still standing there together among the ashes, bloodied and bruised – but as they had been before. The whirling feeling began again, and she was transported back to the time when they were very young, new to life and in love.   She was standing on his front porch, feeling his first kiss, the crush of his body against hers, the passion in his touch. With this vision came hope to her, hope that they could become what they once were, but better for all they had been through together. A new beginning, new understanding, a new strength could hopefully grow between them. As she faded from the dragon’s body, she felt peace in knowing that he was still here with her, and she knew that meant more than any words that he spoke could convey. That maybe in her finally understanding and looking through his eyes, in time, he would once again feel the connection between them. She then closed his profile, and this chapter - knowing that she needed to search no further, that all the answers were right in front of her. 

 

Reviews

[Darksideofman]

I was interested in this piece by the name. I am an avid reader of fantasy works and though I could see that it was only a similie, I continued on. I have to admit, I do not understand the point of the story. I have two sides to my life like most writers do. I have felt joy, like the first rays of the morning sun upon my face, and I have felt sorrow, like the pitchest black of nights wrapped around my heart. I understand the concept of the story but the delivery is confusing at best. Some questions that arose were "What caused 'The Dragon' to write the story?" Though you; the writer, know this answer, we, the readers, don't. You need to make the point of 'why' as clear to us, as it is to you. Second, "Who is 'Lizard Lady' and who is 'Dragonfly,' are they the same person? The constant jump between the reference of them confused me. I think you have 'good bones' here for a short story but as I said the delivery was confusing at best. I hope to see this retooled. From what I see of your writing I think you have it in you to make it flow so much better. Good luck and I hope to see more on this soon.

[Treasaigh (The Solitar..]

This was really good=)