Fate Of The Dragon

by Richard Lovegood

  “Now, do you understand? Had I not been so concerned with what I could slop into your feeding trough, I would have been able to pick up on some of the telltale signs he was giving me. Had I not been so worried about how much you were going to consume, my marriage would be intact!”

  The fire from the kitchen is now consuming the furniture and the appliances. It’s now spreading into the hallway. The smoke is getting thicker. Embers are popping off and landing on the runner in the hallway that my mother cherishes so well. She starts to growl. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, and her face hideously distorts. Her skin turns grey and worn like leather left out in the sun for generations. Her bottom jaw sticks out further than her top, and a large amount of saliva drips from her teeth. I hear a popping sound, and her neck stretches and pops and lengthens with each of the following words, “This…is…all…YOUR…FAULT!!”

  Her neck is now so grotesquely long and bent that she appears more snake-like than human…and she’s now face to face with me. The hallway is now ablaze. The wallpaper is melting. She opens her mouth wider than should be physically possible, rears back, and lunges for my face. I need to wake up. Pinching myself didn’t work. Maybe punching myself will. I go to lift my hand, and it feels heavier than normal. It feels like I am trying to lift it through deep water. The threshold that leads to the kitchen collapses. More smoke rushes in my direction, and I choke on it. I’m coughing, and wheezing. I can’t do it. I can’t even punch myself awake! I need to do something and fast. She comes within inches of me and roars with deafening volume. I tremble and do the only thing left that I can think of to do: scream.

  12

  Heartless

  I finally wake up.

  Tears are running down my face, and my breathing is nearly out of control. I remember my mother blaming me, but it was never that intense before. This isn’t good. As a matter of fact, this is the second night that I’ve had a dream that intense. I need to figure out what the connection is? I’m shaking so badly right now that my head hurts, I need to think this through. I lift my hands to my head, and they are shaking. I place them on my head in an attempt to calm the shaking. It doesn’t help. The shaking is now more pronounced, and making my head hurt. I place them under my thighs and sit on them. That should do it for now. The only thing directly is that my tears will flow, and I cannot wipe them away. Being that they are at a constant stream, it makes for my vision to be very blurry; more so than it is already.

  On my bed, with my legs draped over the side, and I’m still wailing like a little baby. My mother was never that ugly, and she never had a neck that long before. However, that roar of hers was very similar to the roar from my first nightmare. Hang on a second. I had the first nightmare after eating myself silly from the newly opened Chinese restaurant. And then yesterday…that’s right! I purchased a whole mess load of food from the same place, and had an equally terrifying nightmare. What could this mean? The only conclusion I can come to is that it has something to do with the food. That’s silly though! I’ve heard of various types of food altering or even enhancing dreams before, but nothing like what I’ve had!

  I rub my hands over my stomach, not only because of what I ate, but because it is still painfully sore from where Jeffers had kicked me repeatedly. The pain reminds me all too well that the kicks were real. My head is still fuzzy from the fall, and I’m having a hard time telling the difference between what is real or not. I lift my hand and stare at it intently. Am I still dreaming? Are weird critters going to pop out of my skin? Will it melt freshly off the bones in my hand? My hand drops back to my side. That’s stupid. Why am I thinking this way? I need to get out of this apartment. If I stay cooped up in here I am going to lose my mind. I need to find somebody peaceful to talk to. I need somebody who is not judgmental, not arrogant, and most importantly willing to listen. My thoughts click together like a puzzle and I think about the clerk at the thrift store. Steve and his wife are such pleasant people. Maybe they can spend some time with me, and offer a listening ear.

  With it being Monday, that means I don’t have to dress to impress, but heaven knows I need a shower. Honestly, I can’t remember when I showered last, so let’s just say I’m overdue. I hop off of my bed and head to my closet. What color of sweat outfit do I want to wear today? I think green will do just fine. I have almost every color that the department store had to offer, but green just happens to be my favorite. Outside of the fact that I have all of the colors, some say that I have gone a little overboard by categorizing them by color. Quite frankly, in my old age, it makes it easier to find should I have a particular color that I want. To finish off my peculiar-ness, as some would claim it to be, I have them all on hangers in my closet so that way I don’t have to bend down and put extra strain on my back.

  I put my sweats on, check myself in the mirror, and I sigh heavily.

  I need a shower.

  I rack my brain as to when the last time I had one. My memories are not cooperating with me. That must mean that it has been a while. Dang it. I get undressed as fast as possible. Whatever funky odor my body might prepare to emit I don’t want it to befoul everybody I come in contact with. Now that I think about it, is that one of the reasons that Jeffers’ cringes every time I come around? It just very well may be. Sigh. I need to get better about that.

  I walk into the bathroom and turn the water on. I have never been a huge fan of turning my bathroom into a steam room, so I never take scalding hot showers. That is not to say that I take shivering cold ones either. I prefer a happy medium: not too hot and not too cold. Ever since I have had the ability to bathe on my own, the lukewarm temperature has been just fine. To say that my level of hygiene is in tip top shape would be stretching the truth. I tend to think that I do a decent job; most of the time. In my latter years of life, I will admit that it is more difficult to reach all of the necessary parts that need to be cleaned. Bending over hurts more than it used to. Being that I am overweight probably doesn’t help things either. On the plus side, my mirror never fogs up on me. I hate waiting for it to defog, and I hate wiping it with my hand because it leaves streaks. Thank God for long handled scrub brushes!

  While in the shower, my only focus is my agenda for the day; I can gather my thoughts clearer. As I clean each individual body part, it coincides with each item on my agenda kind of like a checklist. Today I don’t think I have much to accomplish, outside of finding someone calming to talk to. So, step one is to go to the thrift store. I have to talk to Steve, because I know that he’ll understand. At the very least, he’ll be willing to listen. What else? Oh crap! I completely forgot about my pants that I took to go get altered! What am I going to do? Should I go back there? Should I avoid that store all together? Is Mei Ling going to kill me upon crossing the threshold of her store? I know what I said to her, and I would be crushed if I were on the receiving end of the verbal bile that I spewed forth. Now I’m nervous. I don’t know if I can do this. Do I really need those pants that bad? Yes. Yes, I do. I have to have my complete set back. My drawers have to be full. If I don’t go back for those pants, then their place in my chest of drawers will be vacant and I can’t have that happen! Fine. I’ll go get those pants back. Even if she charges me triple the amount, I will get those pants back. Ok, that’s only two stops that I have to make. Armpits and tummy: check. At some point, I will need to get some food. I think I’ll skip the Chinese food today, just in case the nightmares are related to that. I am not going to worry about food right now though. I also need to stop by the church and have a talk with Jeffers. I want to get the full story about what happened yesterday, now that I have a clear head. Since I’ve never really seen Jeffers leave the church, I can assume that he’ll be there at whatever time I decide to show up. So, if I get there in the middle of the afternoon, it shouldn’t matter. However, that will complete my shower. I turn the water off and get out.

  Now that my agenda is complete, it’s time to move on with the rest of my day. I check myself in the mirror,
which to my satisfaction, is not foggy. Yuck! I need to shave. At least it’s only one-day old stubble, so this will not take long at all. I apply the lather, shave, and rinse. It really takes no time at all, simply for the fact that I was not blessed with the mountain man genes. I have always had very little facial hair, so shaving has always been an extremely fast event. There was one point many years ago where I attempted to see what kind of beard I could grow. As it turned out, it was an incomplete beard to say the least. It grew out in patches and I looked like I loaned an electric razor to a toddler. Since that day, I have vowed to remain clean shaven.

  Time to go get dressed. I giggle slightly at the thought that I get to wear sweats today. I grab my favorite green sweats off of the floor of my closet and give them a quick sniff test to make sure they aren’t too funky, and cross my fingers in hopes that they are not funky. Picking them up, I inhale deeply…whew. Despite the fact that I haven’t done laundry in over a week, they are not funky. They’re passable, so, I dry off, and get dressed.

  I walk into my living room and I turn on the TV. Sometimes I like to have that on as background noise, and in a weird way it helps me think. Speaking of thinking, I need to take my medication so that I can think clearly and not have my brain bombarded with interference. I walk into my bathroom, grab my medicine bottle, and get the necessary dosage for today. Now to the kitchen I go. Glass of water: check. Meds-gulp-check. I’m so glad I remembered to take them before it was too late. I come back into the living room, and I sit down in my comfy chair. I reach over and grab my pad and pen so I can jot down my to-do list for the day. Sitting in my chair seems like forever and a day passes by; staring at the blank pad of paper. My thoughts want to regain control, but the medication is doing its job. This is one of those times where I wish the paper would just fill up on its own. That way it would save me from having to think about what I want to write, and actually putting words on there. This is one of those times where the thought of writing sounds like too much work. I just don’t care right now.

  I really need to get out of here.

  I put my pad and pen back on the table where I got them, and I sink back into my chair. Sometimes it feels really good to sit motionless and just stare into nothingness. Surely, I can’t be the only one that feels this way. It seems like it sometimes when I talk about it, and all I get in return is mockery or a facial expression that seems to say I am a moron. The TV program that was on is now rolling through the ending credits and a commercial starts up. A big red dragon with a curled finger, sitting on top of a roof, appears on the screen. I know exactly where and what that is. The Dragon’s Garden. Their business must be getting pretty big. To be honest, with this town being so small, it doesn’t surprise me that they’re doing so well. That, and they’re the first Chinese restaurant to open a fully functional dining room. We have other places to get food, but because of the limited size of our town they’re all fast food places that offer only drive thru. The one grocery store that we do have used to have lots of business, but ever since the convenience store boom there hasn’t been a need for a full-size grocery store.

  The grocery store itself is a shell of what it used to be. It used to carry everything that our little town could ever want. It had pharmaceutical items, fresh produce, baking items, beverages, dairy, and a fully operational butcher shop. One by one, as the fast food places and convenience stores rolled in, the grocery store started losing its customers. The first thing to go was the medicine and first aid items. After that was the butcher shop because of that scare with the “Mad Cow Disease”. Nobody here was diagnosed with it; well at least no reported cases anyway. That didn’t stop people from losing their minds over it though. One time, this angry mob had formed, and stormed right into the grocery store. If I remember right, the mob ripped out everything related to the butcher shop: the cabinets, the glass display case, the sinks, and even all of the small wares to cut and serve the meats! They hauled everything off in trucks and took it to the city dump.

  Ah, the city dump. That place is an enigma in of itself. I remember when city council passed a motion to have it expanded. It used to be the size of a parking lot, but now it has expanded to the size of five city blocks. You could actually fit three football stadiums inside of it and still have room left over. Here is the unique thing about it. When the motion was passed, they sent in dump trucks to push everything to one side and made one huge pile. After that, they brought in huge construction vehicles from our neighboring city, Los Ricos. We could not afford to keep heavy equipment like that around. The construction vehicles began their work by starting with tearing down all of the buildings that were condemned and had not been occupied for several years. The debris from the demolished buildings were added to the existing pile of trash and pushed to the side. When all that was left was the ground, a different set of vehicles came in and began digging. They dug for weeks on end, and it seemed like an eternity and that they would never finish; let alone getting out of that hole. I remember a news reporter covered the story, and I watched it on the first television set I ever bought. The video footage showed a large coiling dirt ramp that scaled the wall of the hole providing easy access for the vehicles to get in and out. All of the dump trucks that were staged at the top were constantly filled with all of the dirt, sediment, rocks, and whatever else they found down there. The dump trucks then hauled off their loads and unloaded all of it on top of the Tres Cabezas mountains that are at the north end of the city. The mountains happily received the extra dirt and such. The one time it rained that year, all of the dirt seemed to blend very nicely with the rest of the mountains. Once the new hole was done, the bulldozers came back through and pushed all of the existing garbage into the hole. They had created what I call the world’s largest garbage pit. When it was finished, someone measured the depth and the lowest point was 1,565 feet. You would have thought that at that depth they would have struck water. Well, they didn’t. We live in a desert environment. Striking water at that point would have been like finding gold.

  After the butcher shop was ripped out, it was replaced with a deli. It offered pasta, sandwiches and pizza. Everyone really enjoyed the change. That deli is still there to this day. As far as the actual grocery store is concerned, the only things it really offers anymore are fresh fruits and veggies. On a positive note that still helps, because all of the other stores will come in and purchase the fresh produce and resell it at a discounted price. Then the fast food restaurants actually use the produce in all of their various menu items from salads to burgers. So that is a plus. In a way, when I think about it, it is more of a distribution center than a grocery store.

  I shake my head to bring myself back to present day. The sound of sirens from the TV startles me back to the present day. It’s a little funny too, because I can hear the actual sirens faintly in the distance outside my window. I wonder what could be happening today. The on-scene reporter is very shocked and almost in tears due to the conditions behind her.

  “This is Sally Stormfield coming to you live from the scene of the thrift store.”

  No! Steve! That store was his pride and joy! I begin to tear up in empathy. I watched Steve grow up from infancy. He has always been a faithful church attendee, and has always had a passion for owning his own store. Well, right after high school he got his big chance. He took out his first loan ever and built the thrift store. By the time he was 25 years old he was completely debt free. Soon after that, he got married to his wife; Rebecca. They are such a sweet couple. They have no children. They rent an apartment just across the street from their store, and they walk everywhere they need to go. That store is their life, and now, it is engulfed in flames. Steve is sitting on the curb in front of his apartment complex while he watches his store burn to the ground.

  “The store owner, Steve Nielson, is standing by.”, says the reporter. “Mr. Nielson, sir, would you like to answer a few questions?”

  Steve stands there with bloodshot eyes, staring into the camera. You ca
n tell that he’s holding back the remaining tears. “Rebecca, I want you to know that I still love you. You didn’t have to do this. I’m not mad at you at all. Please come back to me.” He turns his head, begins to sob, and walks away.

  “The story just got thicker, folks. A devastating fire, a missing wife, and a heartbroken man. We’ll have more for you as the story develops further.” The news ends for the moment and the current channel goes to a commercial. I think I am probably just as devastated as Steve is. How could this have happened? They loved each other! It was only a few short days since I saw him and he was beaming with joy. If ever I had more of a reason to get out of my apartment complex, this is it. I have to go find Steve and find out what happened. Based on his face that the camera showed, there is something lying deeper beneath the surface.

  I really have to get out of here, now. There is something welling up inside that really wants to help. That just may be the motivation I need to get out of my chair.

  I grab my keys, and out the door I go. It’s still early enough in the morning, so I don’t need to worry about my neighbors harassing me, because that will be this afternoon’s obstacle. I make it down to my little bubble car, get in, slam the door shut, and start it up. There have been very few times in my life when I’ve had the urge to make the tires squeal in an attempt to leave in a hurry. Some of the younger kids would refer to it as peeling out or burning rubber. I can count on one hand the times that I have wanted to do it, and out of those times I actually did it; once. Today will make number two. I mashed my foot down on the gas pedal in a quicker fashion than I am used to, and the tires squeaked for half a second.

  I feel so alive right now! That was very exhilarating! I may have to document this occasion, because I doubt it may happen again. I put the turn signal on and make my turn down the street towards the thrift store. I don’t think I came to a complete stop that time. My word I am the little daredevil today! I should try speeding to complete the whole package. I’m going to do it. I am going to go for it. Here we go. I’m going to speed. I watch the speedometer increase slowly. The speed limit is a happy 45. My speedometer says 39…40…41…42…43…44…45…46! AH! Oh, my good heavens, I am speeding! Ready or not, Steve, here I come! I look at my hands and they are white-knuckled on the steering wheel. I ease of the gas pedal, bring my speed back down to 38, and breathe a sigh of relief. Nobody caught me. I think I’ll be ok.