Prologue
A Disclaimer
A Disclaimer
I have pondered for a while, and I have decided that I absolutely do not know how to start a book. I suppose I’ll have to start with the overrated, unoriginal yet highly informative “Hello, my name is Emera Kerin,” introduction.
Hello, my name is Emera Kerin. I was thirteen when this story began, and I lived in the semi-suburbs of America. I’m mostly a shy, in-the-background type girl who’s never even had a boy-friend when it seems everyone else has. I guess guys just go for the wavy blond hair and brown eyes with the bubbly confidence, not my super-curly brown hair and blue eyes, with shy quietness.
Well, I'm usually quiet, anyways.
At any rate, I apologize for the crummy beginning, but I never asked to be a writer. Then again, I never asked for my other job, so I suppose life is just unfair that way. At any rate, I truly hope you do not close this book in disgust of the strange girl who is stammering over herself, because this is not a story you want to miss. I promise.
Before we move on to the actual story, I’d like to make a disclaimer: I’m not guaranteeing that this story has a completely happy ending. Of course, happy endings are very nice, and people say they are overrated, but really, they aren’t. In fact, I think a truly happy ending to my story would have been greatly appreciated, especially to those
involved, including myself. Sadly, that is not the case. Not that this is one of those garbage stories where the hero or whoever basically gets beat up until they die - it's quite an adventure.
And now, I suppose that I should stop gibbering about endings before I give away something important and/or make you go away no more learned than you were when you opened this book, and just move on to the story, the part that you opened this book for in the first place.
So here we go. No promises, but that’s how life is, isn’t it?
1
The Monster under My Bed
The Monster under My Bed
“See you in the morning,” I said over my shoulder as I left the computer room. Mom sat at a chair, doing Facebook or email whatever it is adults do on the computer and 10 o’clock at night.
“See you then,” she answered from her post. It was the same as every night; it had developed into a routine. Mom would be on the computer doing whatever, I’d get ready for bed, and then we’d have the same exchange:
“Goodnight, Mom.” I give her a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Goodnight, sweetie,” she replies.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
“See you in the morning.”
“See you then.”
Then I’d go to bed. When Dad was home, I’d do the same with him, but he was a pilot, so he was gone for a few days at a time.
It’s not that Mom and I don’t really love each other. We have a great relationship (unless somebody does something really bad). It’s just that our family silently develops routines. One day, it’s just something you do once in a while, but then you realize that it’s somehow become routine.
As I headed through the kitchen to the stairs, I saw my twin brother, Diamon, in the kitchen.
He hastily put the bag of marshmallows back into the pantry.
“Really?” I placed my hands on my hips.
“I was only gonna have one!” He said. “And then I miscounted.” I grinned.
“Well, I’m off to bed.”
“Hate ya,” said Diamon, pretending to give me a goodnight hug and kiss.
“I hate you too,” I replied. We both knew we didn’t actually hate each other – it was just strange sibling hate-love.
Although we did get on each other’s nerves a lot.
“See you in the morning,” I called over my shoulder as I exited the kitchen.
When I entered the living room, it was dark. The only light on in the house was in the computer room. That light also flooded into the kitchen, but was mostly gone in the living room. My room was right at the top of the stairs across the living room, which was rather large, so it was pretty dark.
I walked a little quickly across the living room, because the dark makes me nervous. It always has - I don’t know why - and the only place where the dark is comfortable is in my room; and even then, only if I’ve turned the light on a second. Again, don’t ask me why, it’s just how my brain worked.
After crossing the living room, I walked past the small bathroom against the wall. That bathroom always creeped me out when it was dark, because the door always stood ajar, and the bathroom was almost pitch-black, just light enough that you could clearly see weird shadows. I always felt like something was hiding in there, even though I knew it was ridiculous.
I passed the spine-chilling bathroom and took the stairs two at a time. I always do that, even when I’m not freaked out by bathrooms, because I’m a person who likes to get where I’m going quickly. It’s just me, and I’m a very strange person, as you’re learning.
Finally, I got to my bedroom. I opened the door and turned on the light switch. Bright, welcoming light flooded into the room. I could clearly see the teal walls, the lime green, hot pink, yellow and orange decorations, the dolphin wind chime hanging by my lime-green-curtained window, the rainbow polka-dot and hot pink sheets hanging off the bed and spilling onto the floor. I looked over my shelves full of knick-knacks, old crafts from second grade, a few trophies from when I was seven, and lots of books – I loved books, and I was always looking for adventure fantasy books. In fact, a poster for Lord of the Rings, (my favorite book/movie series ever) hung on a wall next to a Happy Bunny poster.
I walked across the room and turned on the lime-green fuzzy lamp on my nightstand, before going back and turning off the lights, so that way I could more easily trek through the strewn-about guitar and trumpet trinkets, dirty clothes (mostly ninja t-shirts), and throw pillows. Then I lay down on my bed, pulled the fuzzy pink blanket over me, turned off the lamp, and quickly fell asleep, the my shadow cast against the wall by my multicolored alarm clock...
I soar over the forest, a sea of green canopy rippling over the land. I see my shadow, some sort of winged creature, moving loyally beneath me. A huge leaf flutters upward right in front of me, circling me like a friendly hawk.
I awoke.
I was lying on my side, buried alive under my long, soft blanket. I blinked sleepily, remembering the dream. I had liked it, although it was not as amusing as some of my others, which usually involved book characters, sandwiches, and other bizarre and random things like giant mothballs.
I heard a rustle from beneath me. Pausing from my thoughts, I thought it must be our dog, Sugar. She was a small, playful, curious little dog, and she would probably fit under the bed.
“Sugar?” I murmured her name, hoping she’d come out, or move and cause her collar to jingle.
The rustling abruptly stopped.
I sat up, turning on my lamp. Light flooded the room, tinted by the lime green lamp hood. The dog didn’t want to come out, or was stuck. I’d have to rescue the crazy thing. That was why I loved her – she did the most ridiculous things sometimes.
“Come on, baby,” I coaxed, picking up a long, still-inflated balloon from a recent party. I heard more rustling and pinpointed about where Sugar was.
I pushed the balloon under the bed, behind Sugar, and swished it forward, meaning to make her move and knowing that a balloon would definitely not hurt her.
Sure enough, the balloon tapped against something – either Sugar, or a stuffed animal, or perhaps some other random thing. It moved forward, to-wards the open room, narrowing the choices down to either a hesitant canine of a ball. I tapped the dog again. The balloon popped, there was a squeal, and something came shooting out from under the bed. I took in a sharp breath of air.
It was not my dog. It was not a stuffed animal, or a ball, or any other toy.
And it most certainly was not normal.
As a matter of fact, it was the very last thing I had expected.
A dragon crouched on the wooden floor of my room, visible by the lamplight from my nightstand.
I’m still dreaming, I thought. But then I realized that when one is dreaming, everything makes perfect sense even if it doesn’t, so you never realize that it’s a dream, and even if you do, you instantly wake up from the dream. Besides, it felt too real to be a dream. Therefore, the only alternative was that it was real. There was really a dragon standing in front of me.
Having processed that the situation was not merely a figment of my imagination, my brain moved on to the dragon itself.
It was green with a brown underbelly, with clawed talons on his front feet and lizard-like hind feet. Its wings, with brown skin stretched between the sections, were spread along the floor, and looked too small for it. Little sharp stubs on the back of its head indicated where horns might eventually grow. (That was probably where the balloon had popped.) It had a long neck and tail, and golden, catlike eyes shone from its head, with its ears a little big for its body.
Speaking of size, this creature was very small for a dragon. I had always imagined them as huge creatures, the size of a house at least. This one had been hidden under my bed.
All of a sudden, it hit me: this must be a baby. Yes, that would explain why it looked more afraid than ferocious. So where was its mother?
I was still, of course, crouching by my bed, and I could not focus on any of my questions. I was still busy comprehending that there was a dragon, and actual, real live dragon, hiding in my bedroom at two in the morning. I hadn’t even known that dragons existed. I’d always thought it would be neat if they did, but that they were restricted to the fantastic world of stories.
I sat there for the longest time, still staring in astonishment at the dragon with my mouth halfway open. I think that two minutes of this passed. Nothing moved, except the dragon’s tail, which occasionally twitched. Finally, the silence was interrupted by a very faint grumbling sound. I realized that I could see the baby dragon’s ribcage.
The instincts of a mother, which apparently kick in at age thirteen, rose up from the depths of my mind; the dragon must be starving and unable to feed itself.
Mentally spurred into movement, I moved onto my knees, putting myself a few inches closer to the fantasy creature.
The green dragon backed away, its head lowered to the ground. It made a squeaking, trilling noise, its golden eyes glowing with fear of this large creature that had chased it from its hiding place.
“It’s alright!” I murmured in what I hoped was a coaxing tone. The dragon made a chattering noise, clearly still a bit wary but also considering my tone.
I knew that letting dogs sniff you before you first pet them is always a good thing, and wondered if it would work for a dragon. Slowly, cautiously, I reached out a gently closed hand towards the dragon. When the dragon froze for a second, so did I.
Tentatively, as if my hand were something scary and yet inviting, the dragon reached out its neck and sniffed my hand with a snout that had a pointed tip like a beak and flexible skin like a muzzle. He did not quite touch my skin, but I was sure that it was the closest anyone had ever come to a real dragon before.
“See?” I whispered. “I won’t hurt you.” The dragon tilted his head up to look at me. Apparently deciding to trust me, it moved a bit closer.
I moved my other hand towards it. The dragon did not move, but my hand faltered. Did I dare touch it? It would likely be historic, a first for mankind…
I reached forward and touched the dragon, my fingers delicately resting on the tip of its snout.
The skin of the dragon felt leathery and slightly bumpy, like the skin of iguana, but different. It felt tough and soft at the same time, and I felt a slight heat, the warmth of life, but it was not as warm as my own flesh.
Feeling the warmth of my skin, the dragon moved the rest of the way to me, quickly snuggling against my side. I smiled as he rubbed his small, leathery body against my abdomen and ran my hand over his back.
“You must be starving,” I said aloud, feeling bones where there should have been muscle, “but I don’t know what to feed you. What do you eat?” I decided I didn’t know. I would have to consult with someone else – preferably a parent.
I stood, and the dragon scampered back, wariness flickering in his eyes again.
“It’ alright,” I coaxed, and then I walked across the room. The dragon followed me. I put my hand on the doorknob, then hesitated. The dragon would probably walk out of the door, but then it might fall down the stairs, or worse, the railing that overlooked the living room. The dragon’s wings looked far too small for flight, and a fall like that could kill it. I’d better not try to leave the room, I realized. After all, there was plenty to do in here.
I turned to the dragon, who watched me with bright golden eyes. I turned on the lights and sat, and the dragon crawled into my lap. I realized that it was kind of cute, now that I had settled into the idea of its existence. I flipped it onto its back (much to its alarm) and saw that it was a boy dragon.
“What should I name you?” I wondered aloud as I rubbed his belly, which calmed him down considerably. He was beautiful, worthy of a good name, but long, complicated names are overrated, and I couldn’t just name him Bob and be done with it. No, I needed a good name, not too overdone, but not too blunt either.
My mind flashed back to my dream, and the leaf that had fluttered in the wind, flying with me as if it had wings. Yes, that was perfect.
“I’ll call you Leaf.” The name rang through my mouth like a bell, and the little dragon lifted his head, as if approving his title.
Leaf. I liked the name; it was beautiful in the fact that it was so simple. It fit him perfectly – he was green, after all, the color of the leaves as they are reborn in the beginning of spring. And I liked the nature-inspired name – it sounded right somehow.
Leaf looked endearingly into my eyes, as if I were suddenly his best friend. I felt like I had to introduce myself, so I did.
“My name’s Emera,” I said to Leaf. “I guess you’ve never met a human before, but we’re really not that dangerous usually, unless we have a weapon – or if there are a lot of us. But I don’t think you need to worry about that right now – you’re too cute to look threatening.”
As I finished, little Leaf’s belly growled again. Leaf looked down at his stomach, and then back up at me, as if he were trying to communicate. Maybe he was – I didn’t know much about dragons.
“I’d better get you something to eat,” I said. “I imagine you eat meat?” Leaf just continued to watch me. “Well, carnivore or not, you’d better get off me before I get up, or you’ll have a bit of a tumble.” With a gentle push, I had Leaf roll onto his feet and crawl off of me. I stood, placing my hand on the doorknob. I opened the door just enough for me to get through, blocking the entrance with a leg, just in case Leaf tried to bolt away.
“Stay here,” I said, squeezing through the small exit and closing the door quietly behind me.
The house was dark, and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. Finally, I climbed silently down the stairs and crept across the living room. My parents’ door was right next to the kitchen – I closed it silently, and heard no movement or sign of Mom waking up. Good.
I turned on the dim light in the back of the kitchen and turned to the refrigerator. What should I get for Leaf? It’s not like Wal-Mart distributed dragon chow. Deciding that any meat was the most likely answer, I opened the fridge and pulled the meat drawer out. Inside lay some leftover fried spicy chicken – that was no good, it was too spicy for a baby, even if it was a dragon, and plus it was breaded and basically fast-food badness. There was also leftover McDonald’s – again, fast-food; no good. The only other thing was sandwich meat. I picked up the container and read the back. Unless the company was bold-faced lying, it was relatively naturalistic meat, with plenty of nutrients. Leaf would hopefully have no trouble eating it.
I quietly closed the refrigerator, keeping the lunch meat stored under my arm. Then I turned off the dim light and stealthily crept back up to my room.
Leaf was waiting for me when I entered. I quickly and quietly shut the door as the little dragon scampered over to me, sniffing the air keenly. I smiled and sat down, opening the meat box. Leaf took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of meat, and eagerly thwacked his tail against the ground.
I grinned and pulled out some meat. Leaf snapped it out of my hand so fast that the tip of his snout grazed my hand, scraping along my finger. I recoiled, but Leaf was so happy with his food he didn’t even notice.
Leaf ended up eating half the container. I hand-fed him, and he learned not to snatch it out of my hand, because that snout-tip was sharp. Finally, when his little belly was round with food, he yawned in contentment, found a soft pillow, circled twice and curled into a ball. I smiled softly, feeling like a mother watching her baby. I could still see bones in Leaf’s frame, but he wasn’t going to become perfect in one night. I closed the box and put it on my dresser, behind a teal box. We never used the lunch meat – no one would notice its absence.
I turned off the light and lay down my bed. A few moments later, I felt something jump onto the bed with me. Leaf snuggled up against my warm body, wriggling against me a bit to make himself more comfortable. My eyes already closed, I smiled, pulled the blanket over us, stroked my baby dragon once, and dropped off into sleep.
I'll be sure to fix it!
