HeatMarie

My mouth was replete with the strong taste of fresh earth. It was hard to choke that one down. But I did. After all, we are on an adventure to break through the bolts of consciousness that hold the doors to all the other worlds. It’s amazing what a writer will do to seek the stories locked inside their imagination hoping to find the kingdoms where dragons rule the sky, where magic creates the mystical forests, and where white knights fight the evil that rots the castle, only to take a girl.

It was just taking a bit more time than I imagined. 

“Do you believe life has a purpose?” I asked. 

As the dragon turned off the light, the room surrendered to the TV’s glow, creating an ethereal shimmer that emanated from his silver scales.

“The question is the purpose,” he said. 

I sat with his response as he settled heavily next to me. 

Noticing my confusion and silence, he spoke, “The purpose of life is the mystery of the question and the need to hunt for it. Right now, my purpose is to sleep.” 

Quietly, I sighed. My single question left me with so many more. I didn’t want to agitate him, so I watched as he rolled onto his stomach. He placed his head on his large claws, and closed his eyes. 

You might be asking yourself, “What is a human doing with a dragon? Aren’t you afraid?” Well, sometimes a writer, like I mentioned before, puts themselves into crazy situations to find inspiration. Occasionally, those situations are the actual story where the writer becomes the protagonist and befriends the thing that they were supposed to destroy–much like acquainting the darkness so that you can fall in love with the stars. Alas, that is not this story.

Turning off the TV, (Yes, even dragons like movies and shows. Just don’t let them watch anything that makes them laugh. They have a tendency to snort fire when they do.)  I snuggled into the pillow. Perhaps, another time? 

The room fell dark, but as I closed my eyes, I heard the distant sound of music playing and a carousel spinning, its gears grinding with the horses and chariots rising up and down. Lights began to dance across my eyelids.

It all felt familiar. Like I had been here before? No, not like that, like I belong…

It felt like I belonged in this brand new galaxy, with a new version of excitement, another level of adventure, a place where stories manifest themselves into their own reality!

I could have never dreamed of a place like this; one that contradicts its existence; a place where nothing and everything coexisted. Reality embraced illusions as stillness danced with my heart, creating a silent symphony of my mind’s desires.

Please don’t make this a musical!

I will admit that once upon a time I begged for a world where life itself was a musical. Having been there now, I really advise against it. I mean, seriously, have you ever had to carry on a serious conversation while staring death, and I mean death himself, in the face and he begins singing a song about how bargaining with him is worse than bargaining with the demons of seven different hells. The bastard even brought the demons into his bit, wearing little top hats and vests, performing as his backup dancers. Trust me, it’s not as glorious as you think.  

“I think it’s hitting now,” I said out loud.

“Yeah?” the dragon replied.

“Mhm, there’s a carnival inside of my head.” 

“Welcome to the Wild Kingdom!” 

A switch box with three small indicators came into view. “Huh, what’s this?” 

Curiosity was the catalyst that flipped on the switch. One by one I watched with fascination.

The first one blinked. It appeared green.

The second one blinked. It appeared blue.

It appeared. Yellow and its newly formed tail spun creating a small spiraling light. As if by Yellow’s command, the other two lights formed their tails and compelled me to watch. Butterflies unfolded their wings and fluttered around my stomach, the fireworks, the exhilaration, the enthrallment! There was no measuring what was happening or even a knowing of what it was. But, a burning sensation ignited my soul as the lights took their turns spinning and swirling, mesmerizing me as they glided and danced on the little black box. 

“I guess, I’m supposed to ask about my life’s purpose?” The question came, manifesting itself into existence. 

Wait! No, that isn’t right. The dragon already told me about life’s purpose and he’s right; it is more about the hunt than it is about the answer. Without the hunt, humans grow stale and live out their monotonous lives only for death, because death is the last unknowing question they will ever have. So, there can never be a reply for that, for the answer is invariably changing.

And so the question morphed itself into something new, “What is the lesson I am supposed to learn?” 

Ominous spoke in its masculine voice, “Write… write… the story.” 

The lights burst into tiny dust particles as they collided with each other. Small fragments of their cosmic glow merged, transmuting into a dark oak cabin with a long dock that rested on a tranquil lake. 

“Here. Write. Tell your story.” 

Inside the cabin, my footsteps made a hollow sound. There were no pictures on the walls, no couches, or tables. The only thing it contained was an antique writing desk that sat against the large bay windows. Sunlight glistened off the lake, spotlighting the desk as if beguiling me to join it. 

“Write,” Ominous said again. 

Enraptured by the desk’s beauty, it gave me no choice. The particles pulled me in and the baroque patterns forced my hand to trace their smoothly carved shapes as each one told a story. 

The first told the story of a girl who finds herself haunted by a monster from her previous life. 

The next brought the images of a fantasy world where mischief turned into an adventure, that sprawled through mountains and a pirate-filled sea. 

I hesitated before my finger caressed the next pattern; it seeped with terror and devastation as ash fell from the sky and demons escaped the gates that held them captive. A few lost souls are left to bear the responsibility to restore order back into the world and once again confine evil inside a locked cage.

The last one though. The last pattern begged me for a chance to live. It was a story about a woman escaping a ruinous place of darkness that a White Knight forced her to endure. She set out on a quest to once again find who she was meant to be. The writer she knew she could be. When she left, all she brought with her was an old blank notebook, a black fine-point pen, and the bruises that covered her body. Her stories didn’t come without struggles. Nothing is ever that easy. The White Knight found her. “You will never survive without me,” he said as he created another bruise on her porcelain skin and promised to take her back to the darkness and protect her just like he did before,  “Only this time you will never leave my side.” If only she knew from the beginning that her imagination had the power to create the world around her, things would have been different.

Passion and desire ran through me. The images faded and still, the tip of my finger continued to mindlessly retrace every pattern. Until that moment, I couldn’t even remember the last time I had seen a story so clearly. Not only did I see it in images, but I could smell the crisp air of the ocean, feel the cold iron bars in my hands, and grasp every emotion of every character. My want became a need, a need to replicate that exact experience.

“Maybe Maine isn’t the place I need to be. Maybe it’s here, but where is here? Lake Tahoe?” A knowing came with the questions. The cabin on Lake Tahoe was exactly where I was supposed to bring an old blank notebook, a black fine-point pen, and a small bag of magic.

But to ask the dragon for such a request? This was supposed to be a one-off thing, wasn’t it? My heart fought as it tried to escape my body, thumping harder, beating faster, then harder, then faster as I imagined the dragon receding into the shadows of his mind. My thoughts triggered a frantic race.

He might find it weird. Uncomfortable even? Girls like me are not supposed to ask dragons for things. He might think I want something more. Feel used? Can dragons feel used? Either way, that’s so not the case. It’s as simple as this, right here, what I am seeing before me. That beautiful lake, the tiniest bit of magic, and the stories that will come alive. But still, I don’t want to complicate things all because the idea is a damn good idea. Here lies my proof! 

A reflection mirroring off the lake created movie scenes, compiling the possibilities. They all ended with me standing alone, ashamed, and completely misunderstood.

But how? How do I ask the dragon? 

Leave the gate open when I do? Give him options?   

Don’t say you “want him there,” the voice came from deep inside my mind. Hell, don’t even mention you enjoy his company. You know how that feels. Like it’s a trick, making you a trapped animal staring down a one-way lane, unable to turn back no matter how hard you try. And you would try very hard, but you wouldn’t be able to turn around. It would be even harder — almost impossible — for a dragon to turn around. The lane is too narrow. He couldn’t do it with his long body and large wings. Don’t get trapped. It’s smothering. It’s too much. The ease of it, how natural it felt. It’s all so wrong! You know it wouldn’t survive. There is no way out of that tunnel with the thick bright light. Don’t trap him, don’t trap yourself… Get out now! 

Cabin, my cabin, the one with the wooden chest. The anxiety made me wish for it. Long for its comfort. 

Now here, I have been here before. It took a moment to know it, to feel that serene state of mind and hear the calm soothing waters. Ahh, the memory of it, my sanctuary.

“There it is,” the motherly voice said, “Now do as we always do, do it proper, empty your mind.”

I lifted the top of the cherry oak chest, its black leather strap squished then squeaked as I opened it up. It didn’t take long to empty my mind. One second I was standing in front of the chest, the next I was sitting with my back pressed against the willow tree looking out at the ocean stirring in the calm storm. The waves rising. 

Up there in the sky, the clouds rippled with waves of big fluffy cotton. I know, I know, they are not true waves, nor can clouds form waves, at least not back in reality. But the way they moved one layer above the other, the lower moving slowly, almost stagnant in place while the clouds above sped in the opposite direction as if they were sailing the wrong way on the tepid ocean, fighting against the currents that weren’t even real. 

We’ll never make it. 

The cabin summoned itself. No, not the cabin with the cherry oak box, the one on Lake Tahoe, keep up, because it doesn’t slow here. 

The clouds dissolved as the dragon gracefully descended from the sky. I watched out the bay windows as the dock swayed beneath his weight. He paused, taking a moment to find his balance before he turned and stared at the lake. His shoulders rose as he sighed, not in sadness, or frustration, but as one does when they see something so purely beautiful. It’s funny, I would have never imagined a dragon losing his breath and finding equanimity in something that could be his demise. Contrary to some beliefs, not all dragons know how to swim. Some, like my dear friend, actually believe that being close to water can tarnish their magic and take away their fire.

Curious of his actions, I attempted to read his thoughts and feel his emotions. If you get the chance to ask a dragon about their feelings, they will tell you they have no concept of such things. That is a bullshit lie.

But still, he came. It was then that I realized he wasn’t standing at the edge of the dock for joy or out of duty. He came simply because I asked him to, because I needed him to be there. I questioned our connection a thousand times before. But as he walked down the dock that swayed angrily beneath him, all those thousands of doubts converted into a thousand tiny grains of sand and washed away with the water that flowed down my cheeks. 

I didn’t need words or comfort — yes, I would have eagerly consumed them both — but there, right there, I was in his presence, and the presence felt like home.

“Write!” Ominous growled. The dragon faded along with the cabin and the dock. 

The black switch box came back, only this time, it was larger. Much larger. The small colored dots grew into radiant comets that crossed the star-covered universe with their long colored tails trailing behind them, leaving colored marks on the black box that became a canvas. They swooped and dove, twirled around each other, and brought life into a picture: a girl peeking into a spiraling galaxy made of colorful worlds. Just as fast as it was created, it melted away into a shade of black–that not quiet, but almost–blended in with the rest of the darkness. 

Liquid poured itself across the canvas, drawing a new masterpiece made of darkness, passion, and gallons of my blood. 

“Write, I can show you!” His voice enticing. 

Wide-eyed fear kept me from agreeing. I could feel the Bads, all the Bads. When evil enters the room it carries a foreboding, reeking of rotten flesh woven seamlessly into a tainted desire. I’ve been in its presence many times and know, without a question, that your breathing will stop if you… 

Has it stopped? Did you forget to breathe? Do it. Do it now. Breathe! 

…let it stay to show you that desire you long for and want more than anything else in the world, you might—actually, without a doubt—will have to pay the price. 

“No, not tonight,” I said wearily, “not right now. It’s not the time, it’s not the place. And I will only ask one time for you to leave.” My voice forced out the last words, doing all it could to command the strength and courage that sounded with them. The evil left but its spirit lingered, masking itself into a nonexistent plane that still manifested in this reality. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” I said. 

I could feel it crawling, slivering slowly towards me, convinced that it was so sly and that I was completely stupid, at least too stupid to notice it. 

“The last thing I need is to wake up the dragon with me screaming at the top of my lungs because of you. I won’t do that!” 

Still, it came, reaching out that tainted desire like a collar meant to be latched around my neck. I had to fight before it got that far. If I didn’t, it was going to drag me back and no barking or biting would be able to get me free. From then on, I would be its wild dog in training, forced to do as the master commands. 

Sighing, I thought to myself, Be brave. We have dealt with him plenty of times before. This is nothing new. Just don’t…

Heavy breathing and the sound of a racing heart jolted me back to the real world. My eyes shot open, my body intransigent to my mind’s commands, “Move! Just something small. Remember where you are? Oh yes, here. Wait is that?” 

Frantic breaths escaped my open mouth. I placed my hand on my chest, resting it over my squeezing heart, and let out a soft giggle. Silly me.

I closed my eyes and called upon my white light. 

I’m not sure if it is because of the darkness, or if in truth, it was the brightest light I had ever created. It surged through the tunnel, blinding my vision. Holding up my hand, I tried to shield my eyes, straining to glimpse what was on the other side. It provoked another tantalizing desire. Needing it, craving it, an urge built inside of me, constraining my rationality as I heard an angelic voice calling from somewhere within, “Come, come to me, let me guide you, and…” 

Above me another white light, less vibrant and luminous than the one flooding the tunnel streamed down from above. It was mine, the one I believed I had already created.

The tunnel reverberated the demonic growl, “I’ll show you everything.” 

I stopped. My chest clenched with pain. Wait, a second…

I awoke with the pain growing in my chest. Was I breathing? Has the darkness already… No, no, that wouldn’t be, couldn’t be. Stop thinking like that!

I had to pee, but I couldn’t bring myself to crawl out from beneath the covers. I was afraid of what would happen, afraid I would make a sound, fall on the floor. My brain tried its best to stay in the world of reality. It couldn’t. I weaved in and out of consciousness.

The lights at the carnival flickered.

On: one sign, off.

On: one spinning ride, off.

I was on that one spinning ride looking out at the rest of the world. Images flashed: the food stand, the glow stick, the string of lights, a girl, I know that girl, how did she find me? 

A spaceship?

Hovering in the night sky, I watched the purple lights spinning as the spaceship slowly brought itself down to the ground. Mixed emotions of excitement and fear augmented. I was about to meet aliens for the first time! Okay, fine, I didn’t meet them, I only saw their means of transportation. 

Fine! It wasn’t even a real spaceship, it was only a ride; you know the one that spins you in circles as the floor drops from below your feet, and the force of the spin pins you against the wall making it impossible to breathe. 

I am inside of there now, spinning, feeling the strength of its force, and yet, at the same time, I was outside watching the glaring purple and blue lights spin faster and faster. 

Is this an earthquake? I thought to myself. I forced my mind back into reality and realized it wasn’t an earthquake, the room wasn’t shaking, it was just my body trembling. You’re cold… 

I have to pee. Damn it… 

Standing, my legs wobbled beneath me. I questioned if I could make it, and even more so, if I could do it without waking the dragon. Doing my best to reassure myself, I said, “I can. It’s not that far.”. 

But how far is far when you’ve already walked for days with no food and a quart of water is all you have?

It was dark, and I couldn’t turn on the light. I didn’t know how, or where it was. And even if I did, I didn’t want to wake the dragon.

The mystical forest isn’t kind to strangers. Within the dead of night, the dense trees with their hanging vines block the light of the moon and stars, and darkness prevails…

“Remember where you are?” I said, looking into the mirror. It was a simple reminder. I knew where I was. In the bathroom. With each step I made, the walls moved, growing and shrinking around themselves. I braced myself, as it started again. The lights, the dancing lights swirling in the depths of the mystical forest.

“Snap out of it!” I said.

I’m sure I made a sound, ran into the dresser? Slammed the door? There was no doubt that I flopped onto the blankets. The dragon tossed from side to side. 

Holding my breath, I winced and waited for him to become still before letting it out. 

That wasn’t so bad. It really wasn’t; the only thing that was is how the cold made my teeth chatter and my body shiver.

Curling back beneath the blankets, I let the dragon sink himself into me and rest his head against my back. He turned, then wrapped his arm around my body. 

See, you’re safe! This feels so secure. 

And it did, even as he yanked me in and tightened his arm around me. A dragon guarding its treasure and nothing gets past a dragon. Not even a white light.