The Dragon That Lost Himself

After so many centuries, Drago the dragon started to feel the loneliness weigh down on him. He was the last of his species and as much as he tried to befriend the local human population all he ended up doing was chasing them away.

The last time he had an encounter was many years ago, and at that time he made up his mind not to be out and about in the daytime to avoid meeting these strangers.

He didn't know how to smile, and as much as he tried, he just couldn’t get it to look less menacing. Any slight attempt would only accomplish to reveal his grotesque mandible which contained teeth the size of a small car and incisors as sharp as a samurai sword.

He woke up every morning, before the humans to collect his treasures. To feel their warmth as he held on to them and caress it gently imagining the touch of another being on it, as he saw himself in his mind swinging a rake back and forth over his lair, or attempting to read the books left behind by a child, or pretending to be riding a broken down bicycle.

He collected all these items all through dawn and I until the sun broke up the darkness blanketing the fields with its golden mantel.

There was nothing he would love to do more than to frolic through the fields and bask in the warmth of the sun but there was no time. Soon the inhabitants would be waking up and take note of their missing items. Drago did not dare let them see him. Who knows what they would do to him. Vivid memories swam in his head of his parents and childhood friends being hunted and slayed. Today no one carried swords anymore, but he has seen some kids pelting small animals with a long barrel tube until they fell dead. He learned later they were called BB guns and Drago was afraid.

At home, he was running out of space for his new treasures, but he refused to throw any of it away. Each item reminded him of a particular place and time.

He started collecting when he was a child. His first item, an old, termite infested wheelbarrow transported him to the first time he was called lazy. At first, he didn't understand why his mother thought of him that way. It hurt him so deep he ran out of the house and hid away from his family not wanting to see or speak to any members of his family. Drago was so embarrassed and ashamed, especially since they all heard the word. Did they all see him as lazy? That was his first label, and he would collect many more throughout his life.

Drago was so deep I thought he didn't hear the soft knocking on his door. At first, he thought he was hearing the wood creak. But as the knocking became more insistent, he realized that an actual person was at his front door. No one had ever knocked on his door. He couldn't even remember the last time he had a visitor if ever. Drago tried hiding but the house was packed he couldn't even squeeze through under his bed.

The knock became more insistent. He resigned himself and opened the door.

He looked down and standing there in front of him was a girl. He didn't understand human age, but he imagined he was the same age as the other children he'd seen playing at the park on a contraption they call monkey bars. Drago did not dare smile too afraid to scare the visitor away, and despite his terrifying, outward appearance, inside he was jumping out of his skin with joy.

Yes? He growled. This was the first time he's heard his own voice in years and the roughness surprised him. At first the girl jumped and acted as is she was going to run away, but then she looked deep into his eyes and noticed a softness in them and so she stood tall.

"Would you like to buy some cookies?" She asked.

"Buy? I don't know how to buy?"

"You buy with money silly." And then the sweetest sound came out of that little girl that it melted Drago's heart. Another new feeling and he wished he could add to his collection along with the girl's laughter.

I don't have any money. " Drago looked quizzically, "how do I get money?"

"Don't you work? How do you get food, and pay for your house?"

"I lived here for many years. This is my house. And I hunt for my food. "

Drago was so big that he covered the entire width of the door and as much as she tried the small girl could not see inside.

"What's your name?" She asked, "Mine is Patty, and I live on the other side of the river past the wood mill."

"Aren't you a bit far away from home. Do you have parents?"

I'm trying to sell cookies for school. If I sell enough, I win a trip to the Capital.

Drago didn't understand any of it, but he did not dare ask what she meant. He didn't want to seem ignorant and just nodded as if he knew what she was talking about.

Patty looked around taking in the cabin. Her eyes went up to the old shingles on the roof, and the termite holes around the front door. One of the porch steps had a hole in it and it looked chewed through, as if a rat is still making a meal out of it and coming back to finish later. For the first time ever, Drago felt embarrassed. It reminded him of the time when he was between adolescence and childhood, and some of his other dragon friends came over to his house to visit. He was happy to be the host but as he looked around and inspected his own house, he saw the thick layer of dirt on the wood floors, and dust on top of the dining room table. When ran quickly into the other room desperately trying to find something to clean the floors, but it was too late. His friends noticed and after that they never came over again, even though Drago had sworn to himself that he will never invite anyone over until the house was left spotless. But it didn't help, after that he was known to his friends as Dirty Drago. And the collection of old brooms reminded him time and time again of those sad, friendless days. 

Ever since then his house has been crowded but every piece of his collection was dusted clean, and the floors swept every day.

"Why don't you fix your house?" Patty asked innocently. Drago winced, was she going to add one more label?

"I don't know how to fix things." Drago said sadly.

"Didn't your father teach you how to fix things?"

Drago didn't know how to answer. It had been a couple of centuries before when his dad was killed by the villagers. He was nearby in his private hideout when he saw his father fumbling in flight, desperately trying to make it home as the villagers chased close behind him. Drago was too scared to leave his lair and help his father or to run for help. He sat there watching as the villagers pelted him with rocks until his father drew his last breath.

After that he labeled himself a coward. And that started his stint in terrorizing any cowards he came across. When he saw man, or woman displaying cowardly or mousy behavior, he would wait until night fall when they found themselves alone except that they were not as alone as they thought. Drago stayed hidden in the shadows and waited for an opportune time to jump out at them and growl, and spit out fire until the terrorized victims would faint, and then Drago would take an item that appeared to be their most prized possession, and keep it as a prize. He kept all these trinkets in a large dresser hidden behind his larger hoards.

He looked down at the girl. "My father died a long time ago."

"My father died too." Patty looked down at the boxes of cookies she was carrying as if she was going to start crying, but then she pursed her lips and continued.

"But I am not sad about that. He wasn't very nice to my mom. He died in a car accident two years ago."

Drago never went anywhere across the river, otherwise he would have loved to have met Patty's father and scare him into becoming a better man.

"You know," Patty continued, "everyone in town wonders why you hide from them."

Drago was shocked to hear this. "They know about me?"

"Of course, everyone does. They are so used to you stealing things, that they leave whatever they don't want outside for you to take. That is how we learned not to be angry at you, we just help you with your collection, because at the end you help them clean out their own clutter"

It was becoming late afternoon, and the cool evening breeze was beginning to come in from the lake.

"It is getting late for you, maybe it is time you start getting on home before your mother worries about you."

"I will be home in time for dinner. I know a short cut..."

Patty paused and squinted a little as if making up her mind if she should say anything else. "Why do you collect all that junk inside of your house?"

Drago didn't know if he should be angry or laugh at her precociousness. "They are reminders of what I don't want to be."

"You should get rid of them." Patty said with certainty. "I think they are more reminders of who you think you are-- Who do you think you are, aside from being a dragon? My mother says attachments for things or thoughts will not let you get ahead. That is why she got rid of all of my dad's things when he died. She also cleaned out most of her stuff."

Drago didn't know what to say to this. He never thought about it that way. 

"I can help you clean out your stuff and then we can both go to town and meet my mom, and my neighbors, and friends from school."

"Won't they be afraid of me?"

"They never were. My mother always says that you are a part of this land, whatever that means."

“It is time for you to go now."

"Yeah. It is getting late. Let me know if you change your mind...bye."

Drago watched as Patty walked towards town.

Later that night as Drago was getting ready to do his rounds, he didn't feel the same anticipation he used to before he spoke to Patty. 

I never had a choice; it was all given to me. His thoughts diverted straight from anger to acceptance to relief. There was always a chance he would get caught and with the fear of being run down just like his father, deep down he didn't want to hurt anyone.

He flew around the town this time not finding much except another book. He picked up the book and looked inside at the garble of letters that made up words he couldn't understand. He flew back home but he couldn’t sleep, he was up all night thinking.

He reflected upon his life sitting there on the floor looking at his collection. There were years of his life he didn't want to erase. All the rooms were filled up to the ceiling, and, each, and every one of those pieces held a memory and the birth of a label.

But what were these memories? He thought to himself, labels that held me chained down to who everyone else thought I was, and I accepted their judgement without question.

The next day Patty came visiting again and this time when he opened the door to let her in.

The girl's eyes widened as she took in the site of his home.

"You have so many books," she said in awe. "Have you read any of them?"

"I don't know how to read." He felt ashamed, but Drago was tired of hiding.

"I can teach you!" Patty said enthusiastically. 

"You can? I would love to learn how to read" And so the classes started. After a month Drago had a basic understanding of letters, and how strung together they made words and the words built sentences. The words he didn't understand he learned to look them up in the dictionary, just like Patty taught him.

He started with the children's books he found around the elementary school, and pretty soon he moved up to the more difficult books.

He found that most of the adult books were self-help and Do-It-Yourself books. 

"What a coincidence." He said to Patty one day.

"That wasn't a coincidence, everyone was worried about you. Everyone noticed the sadness in you, even in the dark of night and we'd hope and pray that you could help yourself."

For such a small girl, Patty was not only smart but enlightened, Drago thought. And he felt proud to have used such a word as Enlightened even if not out loud. He never knew what that meant and now he did.

Soon, he started tearing down the broken down wood of his house, and with help from of those books he was able to rebuild the stairs, fixed his roof and treat the termites.

"What are you going to do about the other stuff you have?" Patty asked.

I am going to burn it. Drago said, "I will make such a great, big, bonfire you will be able to see it for miles.

"What about all your memories?"

"I don't need those memories anymore. This is the new me. I am not who I thought I was, and today is a new day, thanks to you Patty."

"I gotta go tell my mother the good news." Patty said as she ran out the door yelling back "I will be back later to help you."

Drago sat on his tail on his newly renovated porch. He was going to make himself a rocking chair, with a slot in that back for his long tail to fit through. Those books are a great help. He didn't know he had it in him, it is almost as if he already knew how to do it all himself. After all those years of watching different generations of workers, he learned something.

I was just buried on all those labels and never gave myself a chance.

The next day Patty came running up to his door, and when Drago opened the door he was shocked to see almost everyone that lived in the town there waiting for him.

"Drago, we are all going to help you get rid of your old memories." Patty was grinning from ear to ear. A woman came walking up the stairs and stood right behind Patty.

"Hello Drago, I am Mary, Patty's mother, and I... we, are so please to finally meet you."

This time Drago gave a loud growl as he smiled, and what made him happier was the fact that no one ran away.

Drago opened the door wide and escorted everyone into his house. He stood by the door as he saw the people walk in, and like a line of ants each come out with a piece of him, and each item that was removed helped shed all that was, and left him feeling lighter, cleaner and all that is shiny and good stayed within him.