| Dragons
live off the edges of worlds, where space bends in on itself and creates a different reality. There are dragons for each element and corresponding direction: the Northern Stone Dragon, The Fire Dragon of the South, The Water Dragon of the Western Seas, and my favorite, the Mystical Dragon of the Wind, hailing from the East. Most dragons are not evil, despite their unfairly givenreputations; they pride themselves on being good citizens in their communities. Curious by nature, they age into rich wisdom, gleaned from as many books as they have experiences. Reckless in youth, they mellow into tolerance and generosity. The loud, garrulous youngling becomes an adult who desires no more than a quiet spot to read and think. Dragons are philosophical. They are metaphysical. They love to sit in a meadow and ponder the meaning of grass and trees.
If their species has a dark side, it comes from their love of jewels. They
cannot help themselves but they must gather into their dens all gold and silver coins and shiny objects. They are mesmerized by crystals and glittering gemstones. Sadly, some
begin their collections as thieves, commiting deeds they wholly regret later in their lives, for dragons have a conscience as fully developed as any human being. Those who did ill often spend their last years making amends to the villages they plundered in their youth.
Most adult dragons are masters of trade, earning their glittery gifts by their wits. Developing warm and enduring relationships with their human and non human
neighbors, they use their dragon gifts for the common good, creating a space where all
creatures can thrive. Count yourself lucky if you live near an elder dragon, especially a dragon like Windrush Hugebellow.
Windrush, or Rush, as his friends call him, lives in the abyss off the edge
of this world. It's flat, you know; and if you travel the ocean too far in any direction, over the edge you tumble, down a timeless waterfall where the water drops morph into stars. This happened to me! One moment I was falling through space; and the next I was sailing on a large pool of glass, lit by a rising moon.
The lake I found myself sailing shone silver beneath the full orb. I floated within a circle of silhouettes: soft round hills topped with a necklace of trees. Small insects flit over the water,through the warm night air, their bobbing bottoms glowing neon green. Fat little barrels lit from within, they swarmed around my lanterns buzzing off and on to a rhythm entirely their own making. There were cries and roars from the
shore I did not recognize; but I couldn't beafraid. It was all too engaging and beautiful. I brought my blanket and pillow on deck and slept beneath a billion galaxies. In this world between worlds, I somehow felt safe and free.
At dawn, the sun rose from the eastern end of the lakeof flowering
vines adorned their trunks while fields of color rolled down the gentle slopes that held them. I steered my boat to shore and stepped on the land. My dragon friend's home was a quarter mile up the hill on the south side of the valley.
Windrush
Hugebellow had a stone castle of nine
rooms; the largest
rose as an onion shaped dome
in the center,
surrounded by
eight smaller
ones arranged like petals on a flower. The center bulb flew a flag bearing his emblem: a green dragon clutching branch in his ivory claws. The large half-circle entryway
was graced with a bower
of vines that
laced
like celtic
knot work and
trailed away from his door in a tangle of yellows and pinks. A
dozen stones evenly spaced
led from the entrance to a stream that coiled downhill and emptied into the lake.
The small stream ushered from the hills south of his home. It watered a rambling garden of herbs, roots and
berries Rush found most delicious.
When I met him in my youth, he was already a mature dragon,
gentle and wise, who had renounced
meat eating aeons ago.
I stood
beneath the
bower of vines,
and called to
him. No answer. The door was slightly open;
I walked inside. In every room,
flows of sparkling
minerals extended roof
to floor, creating
natural sconces
for the tar
and wicker torches providing evening light.
Glass windows in the ceilings
admitted light during
the day and moonlight
through the
darker hours.
I entered
the center room
and made myself
comfortable
on a pile of
soft furs. A
table groaned
with fruit,
cheeses, and breads before me.
I helped
myself to breakfast and some warm tea,
waiting for my friend to
come home.
I
was a little nervous, not entirely
certain he'd
remember our encounter
several years
ago and
his invitation to help
me should I
ever lose balance
sailing the
edge and fall
into the abyss. Well,
he did, and
I have ,
I said to myself, and now
I need his dragon skills.
…to
be continued…by
Sharon George |