Dragon Dreams

Chapter 9: Secrets (1/2)

I was alone in my room. It was early Saturday morning, and my parents wouldn't have been awake. Alex had gone back to her room. I flopped down on my bed and lay on my stomach, trying to sort out a million questions buzzing around after the nightmare. Time after time I went over my actions and asked the single question that was haunting me: was I really that dragon? Was the dragon who killed Alex really the same one that was lying on the bed?

It was simple. I had enjoyed the fight. It wasn't some other creature that had occupied my mind and made me powerless. It was all me. I remembered every scratch and bite and blow, how I delivered them with fierce fury. I delighted in the chase. The instincts might have taken control, but I was still present to relish every drop of blood spilled.

And the magic. I was no longer filled with joy at the thought of using it. My wilder mind had turned to ruthless violence using magic, and now I regarded it with trepidation. I wanted to enjoy the benefits of being a dragon, but the feelings of elation that came with my first flights were merely distant memories. The ugliness, the terrible things I could do, that was all I could think about. Nothing like my naive dreams and ideals of a dragon's life. The noble creature, intelligent and magical. Not me. More like a wild beast cursed with the human capacity for guilt.

I balled my fists as anger swelled once more. What did Rofar say about this? Nothing! He could have told me the truth. It wasn't right. There was no warning about evil dragons suddenly entering my dreams and torturing me with my own sister's death. No. It was all magic and flying lessons and telling me about ancient spirits. All of that was useless when I was fighting for my sanity. Rofar couldn't possibly understand how I felt right now—nobody could understand.

I looked over at my shuttered window. A tinge of morning light seeped through the gap in the curtains and gilded the wall. The claustrophobia hit me stronger than ever. What was I but some caged animal? I wanted to go over, throw aside the drapes, and welcome the rosy daybreak into my room. But my scaly looks denied me such simple pleasures. I couldn't imagine not seeing the sky.

There were many things I couldn't imagine. Never seeing my friends again was one of them. Then there were things I never wanted to imagine, like the guilt I would feel if I ever harmed another person by accident. Ares had taken care of that situation. The attack on Alex may have been imaginary, but the emotional distress was as real as my teeth and claws. I lay there for quite some time trying to see some way out of my newly-complicated situation.

I felt powerless. How could I control myself? I didn't know the answer. It wasn't a risk I was willing to take around my family. A crazy thought came to me in that moment: I needed to run away. Or fly away. It was best for my family. The wild was the only place for someone like me. Not this cage.

It needed to be soon. Tonight. I decided I would sneak out when it grew dark and fly north. From my house in Tacoma, it was around three hours to Vancouver by car. An overnight flight should take me at least that far; it would not be hard to find a place in Canada where I could avoid human contact. Even though I had only flown in dreams before, I was certain my dragon-mind would naturally guide me through it. I gazed back at my wings, untouched by the crisp, night air. "Not for long," I thought.

I thought about my plan some more. What would I do to survive on my own? I could probably rely on my instincts to find food and water. But, my goal above all else was to remain mentally the same. What would I become after living in the wild? Would I be unrecognizable as ever being human? Shaking that thought, I told myself that the main benefit would be the open spaces. The most pressing danger of staying here in my home was the potential of harming other people. If I stayed in a more remote location, then there was less risk of that. I could live with the other consequences. If I worked up the courage, maybe I could meet a few people up there while still keeping a safe distance. I decided to cross that bridge later.

Now I had to plan for a new life on my own. There were many things I wanted to take with me, but I knew I had to pare down my list to the essentials. I started by taking everything out of my school backpack. Trying it on, I found that I could put one strap around my neck, and it would be secure enough for flying. Add one small duffel bag and that would be all I could carry. Making sure I heard no signs of stirring in the house, I started packing.

The extra-large shorts my parents bought were still waiting to be modified. I cut out the necessary holes with scissors and placed them in my duffel. They seemed to be the only things I could wear, so they would have to suffice. I got a few towels that could double as a pillow. I also took some pens and notebooks for writing and drawing. A few books were thrown in, too, as well as a couple family photos—anything that would connect me to my home.

That was almost everything I needed. The basics, nothing more. I decided I would also take my phone and laptop in case I found a way to use them. Maybe I would meet a person who could understand my situation. Then I could arrange to keep my electronics charged and stay in touch with my family.

I thought about Mom, Dad, and Alex finding me gone. A note would have to suffice for my explanation. But how could they truly grasp my reasons? Maybe they wouldn't for a while. Maybe never. But at least they would be safe from me and the many dangers my presence created. Any plan to hide me here was a grand delusion. If I needed to take this matter into my own hands, I was justified in doing so. Closing the small bag of my things, I exhaled heavily. "Am I just convincing myself that this is a good idea?" I wondered. The sounds of movement elsewhere in the house interrupted my thoughts.

I stopped for the moment and shoved my bag under my bed to keep it hidden. Then I listened for footsteps—the brush of bare feet on the carpet so soft as to barely be audible—coming down the hall. Not wanting to look like I was up to something, I swiftly stole back into my bed and curled up to feign sleep. Then came the gentle knock on my door.

"Josh, honey," Mom said in a drowsy half-whisper. "You awake in there?"

I made a mumbled reply that sounded something like, "Mmhmpf."

"Okay sleepyhead, just like your father. You know, I had the strangest dream last night."

"Not as strange as mine," I thought. Maybe the previous day's events had proven too unbelievable for her to accept fully. If so, she was in for a cold splash of reality. "Uh, you want to come in and tell me about it?"

She turned the handle. "Yeah, it..." The words were sucked back in when she laid eyes on me and drew a sharp breath. My mom paused half-hidden with one hand still wrapped around the door, the other's fingers brushed her lips. Melancholy, surprise, and disbelief colored her face in a curious expression. "...it was worth a shot. I told myself this—you—must've been a dream."

"Morning, Mom," I said, not moving from my serpentine repose. It was almost embarrassing. She was hoping to see her son lying in bed but instead beheld a strange, coiled creature in his place. I smelled the pleasant lavender of her favorite hand lotion and imagined how she might have entwined her fingers as she walked down the hall seconds earlier. How her soft hand knocked on my door, expecting to touch the messy, dark hair of the boy on the other side. Hair she would never touch again.

"It's okay. You're still okay. I felt, I just thought, you know?" Her steps toward me were halting, like her speech. She didn't cry, but her eyes shone when the sliver of light played across her face.

"Yeah, it's okay. It's just me."

If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a vote or comment to tell me your thoughts! I really appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you for reading!