by Suzie Taylor
‘This inspiring book took me on an adventure to a whole
new world and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.’
Naomi (year 6)
I absolutely loved listening to your Bug Dragons story
it was truly inspired...
Jorja (year 6)
... Your novel was epic
Olivia (year 5)
‘I love your books your paintings are so cool.
Tiana (year 6)
‘Bug-dragons was absolutely awesome
Georgia (year 5)
Terrific Paintwork! Amazing artwork! You are so cool!
Lame - definitely not! Overall superb!
Realistic artwork!
Alana!!! (year 5)
Your books they are butterful
Jordan (year 4)
I loved the stoury ...
and the paintings are so cute.
Teisha (year 4)
I read this book to my students and they were totally captivated by the characters and engaged with the adventures . They couldn’t wait until the next opportunity to read it.
Corinna Olsen (Year Two Teacher)
written and illustrated by
Suzie Taylor
© 2017 Suzie Taylor
The Bug Dragon Project
First published in 2017 by the Magic Art Cubby, Perth Western Australia.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Elm Hill, an imprint of Thomas Nelson. Elm Hill and Thomas Nelson are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
The moral right of Suzie Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
Design and layout by Lynette Williamson
lynettewilliamson.com
Elm Hill titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
ISBN 978-1-64136-610-6
ISBN 978-1-59555-613-4 eBook
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017960687
for my wonderful supportive family
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
THE FIRST TIME Ben saw a Bug Dragon he knew his parents wouldn’t believe him, so he told his friend Alf instead. Alf had just turned eleven and he knew more about animals than their science teacher Mr Cranford who reckoned he knew everything. Mr Cranford didn’t like Alf. It wasn’t just Alf’s superior knowledge; it was the fact that he couldn’t sit still in class, never did things the way he was supposed to and always answered back when he was told off. In primary school Alf had a special teacher to keep an eye on him, but their current school was not so sympathetic to his differences, even though it was those differences that made him the very person Ben knew he could trust.
“So what did this animal look like?” asked Alf as they walked home from school.
“Well it was like a lizard that glowed in the dark,” said Ben, and began fishing in his pocket for the drawing he had done the night before. He located it and presented it to his friend along with a small trickle of sand and pieces of scrunched up foil.
“Are you sure that’s what it looked like?”
Ben was absolutely sure. He had seen it with his own eyes hiding behind a leaf near the clothes line. It had wings like a dragonfly and was so bright that it actually glowed through the leaf! Alf said it looked ‘flabbergasting’. Alf liked using big words. It was the result of vast amounts of reading, and whilst his pronunciation was often shaky he knew what he meant, even if he often had to explain it to everyone else. The problem lay in the fact that he was inclined to confuse fantasy with reality because his advanced knowledge of wildlife could only be matched with his enthusiasm for science fiction in every form.
It was decided that Alf needed to come over for an investigative sleepover.
“If this animal is nocturnal I’ll need to be there in order to see it,” he reasoned. “Your mum might get suspicious if I suddenly turn up at 10 o’clock at night! Assuming your drawing is accurate, this might be a new species and we will need to document it carefully if we are to become rich and famous.”
Ben hadn’t considered that, and was instantly struck with the appeal of being able to buy whatever he wanted.
“It was near the clothes line,” he said. “Mum made me bring the washing in after dark and that’s when I spotted it. Bring a torch if you have one.”
Alf didn’t just bring a torch. He arrived later that afternoon armed with a notepad and pencil, tape-measure, magnifying glass, microscope, petri dishes, a book about reptiles, a butterfly net made from an old tennis racket, a fish tank and his phone. Ben didn’t have a phone. His parents said he didn’t need one. They had got through primary school without mobiles, which was a completely unreasonable argument and he felt utterly ripped off.
They headed at once for Ben’s room to set everything up. Ben had a large bedroom that was always tidy (his mother made sure of that) but it didn’t lack interesting things to look at. For one thing there was a variety of aeroplanes hanging from the ceiling; some were models he had been given, and others were kits he had put together himself. Fighter jets both modern and vintage, shared air space with a passenger plane that went around and around on a string, two biplanes, and an X-wing courtesy of Alf. A large remote controlled helicopter was proudly displayed on a shelf over his bed. It was a tricky thing to fly and he had just about mastered it, but soon he might actually be able to make enough money to buy a drone!
Ben had a whole wall dedicated to pictures. Apart from a variety of flying machines, both real and imagined, he loved colour posters of high snowy mountains and jungles, vast open plains, strange foreign architecture and bizarre wildlife - anything that was completely different to the area in which he lived. Not that his environment was in any way unpleasant – far from it. For the last three years he had lived on the fringe of a national park; an enviable site for many and only a short bike ride to a picturesque rainforest and a series of public paths that attracted tourists the whole year round. His house was modern and if it lacked imagination and character, it did have the advantage (according to his parents) of being tidy and low maintenance. On the other hand Alf’s house at the ‘old’ end of the road, was a ramshackle ‘Queenslander’ with warped leadlight windows and peeling paint.
Ben had recently acquired his own second hand computer from his Dad’s work. It was not as fast as Alf’s, but it meant a great deal to him as he had previously only had access to the ‘family computer’ in th
e main room where his time and activity could be easily monitored. His desk was quite large and displayed along its back wall an assortment of tools and a soldering iron. Electronic kits, robots and machines, lay in varying stages of manufacture on the shelves above.
Having arranged their hunting equipment on the desk, Ben took Alf outside to show him the leaf where he had spotted the bug dragon. It wasn’t there anymore of course, but maybe later?
Daylight lingered. They played computer games until the sky finally began to darken and then it was time for dinner. Ben wolfed into his rissoles, mash and salad with enthusiasm whilst Alf picked.
“Don’t you like rissoles Alf?” asked Mrs Prinsloo. She thought she’d be safe with that choice.
“No, not really,” said Alf. “But thanks anyway. The potatoes are absolutely exquisite!”
“Don’t worry mum,” said Ben. “he never eats very much.”
Alf shook back his sandy hair and Mrs Prinsloo pursed her lips disapprovingly. He was so thin.
Alf was used to people worrying about him. His untidy mop of hair and frail frame usually caused people a second glance. His mother said it was the medication. She took him off it on weekends but at school he would be deemed ‘unmanageable’ without it.
The boys left the table and headed outside as the first stars were just becoming visible. A light breeze was dismissing the last of the day’s heat and crickets were chirring loudly in the undergrowth. Ben’s garden was large with plenty of shrubs and trees and a substantial vegetable patch. Like everything else at Ben’s place it was well organised and immaculate. On the back fence there was a bolted door which opened out into a cleared area that served as a path, and that if followed, wound its way down to a car park at the boundaries of the National Park.
They hunted all over the garden without success. Alf began to wonder if Ben had been mistaken, but Ben was insistent. “I know what I saw,” he said for the umpteenth time. “I looked behind the leaf and it saw me. I was only about two metres away… and then it flew off with its tail light flashing.”
Eventually they gave up and went to bed. Alf was disappointed and Ben was grumpy. He lay awake for a long time thinking over the situation. What he really needed was a camera so that next time – if there was a next time, he’d have photographic evidence. An animal that glowed like that was bound to be seen again. They had just been unlucky.
As he finally drifted off to sleep he found himself wandering through a strange garden full of glowing insects. An old stone lantern rose from the undergrowth and beyond it loomed a dark forest where the fireflies began to change colour and grow bigger, leading him deeper into the shadows until he had no idea where he was going. As he stumbled along he gradually became aware of a high pitched trilling sound, lyrical and musical like a bird, gradually becoming more distinct as if it was trying to tell him something. Ben tried to answer but instead of words he began making singing noises himself – at least that’s what he thought he was doing, but the sounds he was actually making were distinctly unmelodious until finally with a yell, he woke himself up.
“Shhh!” said Alf crossly.
The singing Ben had heard in his dream continued. Alf was staring out of the window.
“What is it?” asked Ben.
“Dunno, but I’m gonna find out,” said Alf as he pulled on his shoes.
Ben didn’t care about shoes. He reckoned his feet were tough enough for just about anything, and he was always happy to prove it when his mother wasn’t there to insist on appropriate footwear. He glanced at the clock. Ten past one in the morning!
Alf picked up his net and they opened the bedroom door as quietly as they could before tiptoeing down the hall, through the dining room and across the family room to the back sliding door. It squealed loudly as it opened and Ben winced.
“Leave it open,” he whispered.
The singing was louder once they were outside and seemed to be coming from the shadowy line of trees at the back of the garden. Without a word, they tiptoed across the lawn and followed it to an old banksia tree by the fence.
“There!” whispered Alf.
It shone like a fairy light amidst the leaves. They approached as quietly as they could and stopped at the edge of the lawn. The bug dragon stopped singing, looked down at them and grinned. It was about the size of a large grasshopper with large ears that fanned out to the sides, spiky hair and fine scales that glowed in a mottled pattern of orange and green. At the end of its tail was a bright greenish coloured light. The boys stared, hardly daring to move.
“Stupendous!” breathed Alf. “C’mon little fella…” he gripped his net more firmly and stepped forward onto the garden bed. The bug dragon’s eyes narrowed. Alf slowly raised the net, but before he got it close or high enough the bug dragon pounced and latched onto his hand.
“YEEOWW!” yelled Alf.
“Be quiet! Don’t damage it!” whispered Ben fiercely. The bug dragon flew away and they watched as it disappeared into the trees beyond the fence. “What did you do that for? We’ll never catch it now!”
Alf picked himself up off the ground and dusted the sticks and leaves off his pyjamas.
“I can’t believe such a loud noise can come from such a small animal.”
Alf gave him a withering look.
“I meant the bug dragon.”
Alf fished out his notebook and pencil and handed Ben his torch. ‘Banksia tree 1:10 am. Red, gold and green bug dragon sighted. Sings loudly. Has sharp teeth.’
“You should have just photographed it.”
“Will next time. It headed that way into the forest. Let’s go, there might be more of them… unless they’re solitary creatures like orang-utans that need about three square kilometres per individual.”
Ben didn’t think they were much like orang-utans at all – more like lizards or insects. As they were about to leave the garden, he suddenly noticed something. One of the flowers on the passionfruit vine was glowing. He pointed and they crept over to investigate. It looked as though a light had been injected into the very body of the flower causing it to shine brightly from the centre then diffuse to a delicate frosting on the outer petals.
“Extraordinary!” said Alf.
There was a slight rustle and Ben whipped out his torch, but despite extensive foraging there were no signs of any life in the immediate surrounds. Alf was about to pick the flower but Ben stopped him; if the bug dragons had done that, they would expect it to stay there. Perhaps it was a sign or signal of some kind? Alf agreed reluctantly and photographed it instead.
As they walked away towards the garden gate however, there was a slight rustle behind them and a bright blue light flashed briefly in the vine. The glowing flower trembled for a moment before flying over the fence.
“How did we miss it?” exclaimed Ben.
“Knew we should’ve taken that flower!”
“Back gate. This way.”
The forest was very dark and silent. When they used a torch it made it impossible to see into the bush but when it was off the dirt path was difficult to follow.
“Can’t see anything,” said Ben at length. “How far is it worth going?”
“At least to the car park,” said Alf.
Ben was discovering that even with feet as tough as a hobbit’s, creeping along in bare feet in the dark was not the most comfortable thing to do but he staunchly kept any signs of discomfort to himself as a matter of principle. There was not a breath of wind. They made their way cautiously through the trees, painfully aware of every breaking stick and swish of the undergrowth, straining their eyes in the shadows and listening for anything unusual.
A sudden loud chattering broke the silence, making Ben jump. There, bouncing gently on a twig behind him sat a bright gold and red bug dragon with a roguish grin, clearly delighted at his own trick. Two others came into view on each side of him; one green and the other purple.
“Apparently they can turn their lights on and off when they want to,” noted Alf and
began foraging in his bag for his phone, being careful not to take his eyes off the dragons for a second. The red and gold one began to swing upside down on the twig.
“He’s a bit of a clown!” Ben chuckled. “Like a cockatoo!”
Alf found his phone and tried to turn it on. It didn’t work. “Battery,” he grunted.
“Seriously?”
If Ben had a phone, he wouldn’t be silly enough to forget to charge it. He took a step closer to the dragons but they backed off quickly, leaving a safe distance between them. Then just as suddenly as they had arrived, they disappeared.
“S’ok little dragons, we’re not gonna hurt you…” Ben called out plaintively. “Alf, put the net down!”
The bug dragons did not reappear. Alf located his torch and shone it into the trees but to no avail. Ben decided they needed to keep going as it seemed apparent that the bug dragons were equally curious about them and were watching them in the dark. They walked a bit further down the path but apart from the tell-tale sound of a wallaby thumping away into the forest, they saw nothing more.
“Gone,” said Alf gloomily.
“Either that or they’re laughing at us from some hiding place somewhere.”
“Torches are apparently ineffective – we can’t stalk animals that can see in the dark. It’s futile to continue.”
Ben gave a huge yawn. Why did these things have to be nocturnal? They turned to make their way back to the house and discussed what they had seen. They were going to have to find a way to track them down more effectively.
“We need detailed notes on their behaviour and stuff,” said Alf. “We’ll have to put together something reasonably substantial if anyone’s going to take us seriously. Maybe we can trap one somehow.”
“Maybe,” said Ben doubtfully. “Don’t want to hurt them though. Just make sure your phone is charged next time.”
The garden gate creaked as they opened it and Ben yawned a second time as he slid the bolts back in.
Suddenly and silently, a trio of red, green and purple lights streaked over the fence next to him and zoomed around the side of the house.