I was cleaning up my documents on my computer when I ran across this random story. I have no idea where I was going with it, I don't even remember how I came up with it, but it had a certain charm to it that prevented me from deleting it forever. So, I brushed it up and decided to post it on here.
“They’re going to lock me up. I’m going to be locked up. I’m a freak. I’m the stuff horror stories are made of. They’re going to lock me up.” She kept repeating the last part over and over again in whispers.
He thought a moment. He could feel her fear. She was overwhelmed with it. He knew how she felt: in her mind there was no end in sight.
“Yes, they will lock you up,” He said.
She went silent instantaneously.
“If you continue to submit to your fears, your nightmares, and your anger, then yes; they will have no choice but to lock you up. But,” he added “If you step out of your comfort zone, take control of your fears, learn how to be yourself again, and use your power for good, then no one will ever be able to lock you away. Not mentally. Not physically. Not ever.”
A blue dinner plate sized eye looked out at him, moist and glassy with tears, and the serpentine slit contracted, focusing on him.
“But… I’m so, so…” The curtain she hid behind shivered as she did. “I don’t want to be locked up again. I don’t want to be a monster. I’m so scared.” She whispered the last part.
He nodded. “That’s to be expected. I don’t believe anyone blames you for feeling that way.” He held his hand out toward her. “You don’t have to face this alone, Nova. You have friends, and they are ready to help you. I’m ready to help you.” He added the last part slowly.
She stared at him for a long moment, then she shifted and moved. Slowly, a giant, clawed, scaly paw moved out to meet his. As soon as the light hit her paw, she froze, staring at it in horror. He pushed his hand out farther, drawing her attention back to him. He gently wrapped his fingers around one of her massive digits, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
She swallowed hard, loud enough to plainly hear, then she took a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this. As long as someone is willing to give me a little help, I can help myself.”
He smiled, “That sounds like the Nova I know.”
A faint smile spread over her features, then she moved out from behind the curtain and into the open.
Her scales glittered as the light touched them and the wings on her back trembled lightly. The end of her long tail twitched back and forth anxiously. She crouched low on her four powerful legs, and her head hung close to the floor.
He reached down and put his hand under her jaw, gently pulling her head up. “A dragon does not bow her head so low to the ground.” He said as she slowly lifted her head to his eye level, “She carries it tall, with a grace and strength and confidence that will make her ancestors proud.”
“I don’t feel very confident.” She said in a soft, quivering voice.
He nodded. “You know that. I know that. But nobody else has to know that, right?”
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes twitching as she thought about his words, then she lifted her head and stood to her full height, pushing her chest out and folding her wings in tight.
He smiled at her. “That’s what a proud dragon looks like.”
Author of the fantasy series, Tales of the Wovlen, Kathryn spends a great deal of time in the world of her imagination, having tea with fire breathing dragons, writing books on flying space ships, and practicing her mad scientist laugh with gusto. However, on occasion,she returns to this world just to play with her dog and blog about her fun.
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