Our program for March was writing the Fantasy Genre. The contest winner was Cathy Thorp. Congratulate her!
The Queen and the Dragon
I awake once again to the sound of hoofbeats outside the cave entrance. Almost every day now there is one of these heavily armored men riding up to coax me out of my cave. My pet dragon, Char, waits dutifully by the entrance. The men in metal have not been successful, to say the least.
A year ago, I left the palace drama and the life of a young queen to return to my home land; the land of dragons. Here, there is plenty of peace and quiet. Dragons aren’t aggressive creatures at all. They bond with humans in a similar way cats do. The conventional wisdom for cats and dragons is, if you feed them, they’re yours.
I grew up around dragons, Their fire breathing ability enables them to cook their food once they’ve caught it. It comes in handy starting a cozy fire, also.
People have many ideas of what real love is. Some believe it’s expensive dinners, designer clothes, jewels. For others it’s a fleeting thing, there for a moment and then gone in the blink of an eye, a mere whisper in the wind. But love is many things. It’s hard to find but very easy to lose. It changes people, some for the better and others even more. It shines a warm light even in the darkest places, the darkest times. Love isn’t about dinners and jewelry or clothes. It’s telling someone they look beautiful with no makeup, when their hair is a mess and they’re only wearing sweatpants or an old T-shirt.
Love isn’t dining in candle light and velvet, but holding each other during a thunderstorm. Using flashlights to see and find each other during a power outage, so not even darkness can separate you. Playing board games, reading next to each on the couch, curling up to watch old, cheesy movies with a bowl of popcorn. Love can be cruel sometimes and can even hurt, even scar the heart. But scars can fade and wounds can heal. Hearts can heal after being broken.
Love feels differently for everyone. For some it’s butterflies in their stomach when they make their partner laugh or smile. It’s getting so nervous during a date that you stutter and blush, but your partner still has a good time. Love comes in many forms. It’s never running out of second chances no matter how many mistakes are made or arguments are had. Wiping down a feverish brow with a cold flannel, being a shoulder to cry on, an ear to talk off, a warm hug waiting after a bad day.
I’m young and have had my heart broken three times thus far. But I’m not going to give up because I know love is out there, somewhere. I just need to find it and when I do, I will do whatever I can to hold onto it.
Daddy was born in the year 1902 before Oklahoma statehood. He was the son of an Irish immigrant who settled with his Czechoslovakian bride near where the town of Southard exists today. “When I was a boy,” he began, “Dad took me in the wagon to this house.” It was like a café, he explained, but the woman who lived there set up tables in her living room so the customers could sit. “A man was there having his meal. He ate, paid for his food, and left.” Afterwards, my five-year-old father learned the man was an outlaw in the territory. “What did he look like?” I wanted a description of the badman, but Daddy said he just looked like a regular guy. I could hardly believe there was not some outstanding trait of evil about this person, but he was simply an ordinary guy – like you and me.