Another little story / monologue written for a pub-based poetry night. Such a pleasure to write something one day, and have it read to a (captive) audience the next! :)
In dire circumstances, Dragon Baby is someone you’d want around.
Dragon Baby
I’m flying. Tumbling end to end, then steadying. The sky is alive around me, a living thing - hot, blue and electric.
I laugh out loud. It feels more like swimming in an ocean – but it’s not an ocean, because far below me, I can see a village. At this height, it looks more like a model village. The roads are grey ribbons weaving in and out, carrying cars that look more like tiny toys. High velocity winds thunder around my ears. It’s so invigorating.
There’s a memory in my head. A memory full of twisting metal, burning rubber, shattering glass. I don’t know what it is, but that memory is fading. I’m glad. I’d rather be flying.
I touch down gently. I’m at the foot of a headland, on soft, almost spongy grass. It’s bright and clear. On one side of the cliff, the seawater gathers in deep, treacherous pools, treacly black water slapping against limestone. On the other side, a rugged spit of rock reaches out like a gnarled hand toward a sea it can never claim.
There’s something very odd on that rocky surface – what looks like an ordinary interior door. I wonder if it’s some kind of art installation.
The thing is, I recognise this place. It’s near the village where I grew up. I haven’t been here since I was a kid. I guess I’m a city girl now. It always seems to be summer here: skies blasted clean by the light, everything glowing, distant excited cries of children on the beach, soft drones of aircraft. God, I could murder an icecream.
Without warning, a voice squeaks up at me.
“Hi, Katie!”
It’s a familiar voice, sort of endearing, but I can’t quite place it.
“Erm, where are you?” I call out. My voice sounds amazing – as if fused with wind chimes, carried on the air for miles around like music. When did that happen?
“Right here!”
I look down.
“Fuck me,” I say.
“What does that mean?” he replies, looking puzzled.
“God, I’m sorry. I don’t normally swear like that. It’s just – you’re Dragon Baby.”
It’s true. He’s about four feet high, with a thick mane of hair the same colour as the grass – a kind of golden green. He has a yellow underbelly, and a tail with a red bow. Huge green eyes, and a cute toothy smile.
“Yes, that’s me! I’m Dragon Baby! I’m so pleased to meet you.”
I’m starstruck. “Can I just say, I was absolutely obsessed with you when I was little. I use to have Dragon Baby everything. Socks, keychains, T-shirts, cereal.”
“That’s so kind of you!”
“Thing is – aren’t you – like, not real?”
“Not real?”
“You’re a cartoon. Well, CGI. And yet you’re here, as real as I am.”
“There’s a reason for that. You see, I’ve been sent here.”
“Sent here? By who?”
“By you. You didn’t choose to. It’s an instinctive thing. When… this kind of thing happens, the child within us chooses a representative. Someone they innately trust.”
“Wow, you sound a lot more intellectual than I remember. What do you mean, ‘when this kind of thing happens’?”
“Where do you think you are, Katie?”
“I know where I am. On the coast, next to the village where I grew up.”
“And how did you get here?”
I feel like he’s testing me.
“I… flew.”
“Even I can’t fly. And I’m a dragon.”
“Yeah, but that was what was cute about you. We all wanted you to fly. And you misbehaved so much. Wait a minute… are you saying… all this isn’t real?”
“That’s right. It’s not real. You’re dreaming right now.”
I look around. Of course I’m dreaming. That explained why I could fly. Why everything is over-bright, vivid, spectacular.
“Wow,” was the only thing I could say.
“You see, Katie, you’re in a wee bit of trouble. This is actually… your last dream.”
“My last dream? What do you mean?”
“There was an accident, you see. You don’t remember it clearly, but you had an accident.”
Hmm. The memory in my head. A memory full of twisting metal, burning rubber, shattering glass. I think he’s talking about that. It involved me being run off the road, and then a massive airbag exploding in my face. Yikes.
Strangely, I’m calm. Here, in this place, I’m in a protective bubble. At least, for now.
“So let me get this straight,” I tell this little cute dragon. “This is the last dream I’ll ever have.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Are you saying I’m going to die?”
“Yes,” he nods. “I’m saying that.”
“And you’re here to prepare me for that? Jesus, Dragon Baby. You’re a cartoon character. That’s sick.”
“Would you rather it be the Grim Reaper?”
I sit down in the grass. It’s all a bit much to take in, really. I let the tranquillity of the bay envelop me. I feel the breeze on my face. I still feel calm. Just slightly surprised.
Any moment now, I’ll be floating up to pearly gates suspended in the sky. Never to see my family again. My friends.
“This is all a bit of a downer, really,” I tell him.
But Dragon Baby just winks. Inappropriate, I think.
But wait a minute.
“Hang on. You just winked.”
He winks, again.
“There. You did it again. You used to do that on the show. A wink to the audience meant trouble. You were a trickster. Misbehaving with good intentions. Helping people when you weren’t supposed to.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said. “I told you, this is your last dream. Game over. Fini. Terminado. End credits, rolling.”
Maybe… maybe he couldn’t openly talk about it, because someone might hear him.
“Well, I must be going now.”
“So soon?”
“Goodbye, Katie. Always wonderful to meet a fan.”
“Goodbye, Dragon Baby.”
“And remember, the dreamer controls the dream.”
And with that, he actually flies. With a burp of fire, he sails erratically into the air and away on the breeze until he's a dot.
“I thought you couldn’t do that,” I laugh. What a trickster.
And then I realise, he’s left something behind. It’s lying in the grass, catching the sunlight.
A tiny, ornate, glass key.
I pick it up. It feels cool against my fingertips. Why would he leave me a key?
I instantly remember the interior door.
What I thought was an art installation, standing on the rock below. When I look more closely, I realise it resembles the door in my childhood bedroom. Green-painted, with my name glued in wooden letters.
I’m betting this door has a keyhole. This door… could lead to a way out. A way back. But I would have to climb down the cliff to find out.
“Thankyou, Dragon Baby,” I whisper, making a run for it, before anyone stops me. “You always did love breaking the rules.”
I really, really, really loved this.
Great work. It was so visual, so full of possibilities - and I really wasn't sure how it was going to end. I know this is going to stay with me. Vivid writing.