Dragons Aren't the Problem

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

Well, it really hadn't been a geological definition of a valley; it had been a tract of land, undeveloped and green. It was five year old Sharron that deemed the place a valley and therefore name it the Valley, for that was the closest descriptor that had come to her young mind. Sharron would pass by the Valley while riding the bus on her way to school. A city girl, she loved the towering gnarled trees, the stubby shrubs that hid birds and bunnies, and the occasional unicorn. Her mother would tell her that she had a very active imagination.

“Sweetie,” her mother said, “unicorns are made up.”

“But I saw it!” Sharron rebutted her mother's claim. “I saw it in the Valley. It was drinking from the pond there.”

Her mother smiled. “I think what you saw was a deer.”

Sharron sighed harshly with frustration: she knew the difference between a unicorn and a deer!

Deer didn't have horns, but unicorns did.

Even during the winter, the Valley was alive. Though the trees were naked, the verdant grass snowed covered, and the pond frozen, the creatures played. Sometimes a new animal would join the spirited fray.

“Daddy,” Sharron said as she and her father drove by the Valley. They were returning from one of the largest bookstores in their town. It had been her eighth birthday and Sharron had wanted books---more specifically—books on mythological creatures.“I can't find the snow snake in any of my books.”

“Snow...what now?” her father sputtered.

“Snow Snake. That's what I'm calling it.” Sharron said firmly. “It's playing with the...” she flipped through one of her four new tomes, “...hippogriff!” And she pointed out the car window towards her beloved Valley. “I think they're playing tag.”

Her father took a quick glance to his right where is daughter was pointing enthusiastically.”I think you're just seeing the snow swirling about, pumpkin. I mean, it's comin' down rather hard right now. “

“How can you not see them?” Sharron had found this most incredulous.

“Sharron, I believe that your head is a little too much in your mythology books. How about we think of something else, huh? Like...how much birthday cake you, me, and Mom are gonna eat when we get back home?”

So while her father talked about celebratory baked goods, Sharron continued to look out the car window as they sped by the Valley. The hippogriff waved.

Eventually, Sharron stopped trying to get others to see the wonders that only she could; it had begun to make her parents worry, and her age-mates thought her to be weird. So she kept silent about her Valley and reveled in the delight of dancing unicorns, flying hippogriffs, and the random snow snake...until the year she turned twelve and a large wooden 'SOLD' sign was hammered in its earth.

The Valley became a used car business owned by the 'Most honest and sincere used car dealer in all the mid-west!'. At least that was the slogan he would scream in his obnoxious TV commercials. Then a few years later the car lot became something just as appalling--a strip-mall (the most honest and sincere used car dealer in all the mid-west was actually the most honest and sincere illicit contraband dealer in all the mid-west and was spending time in Federal housing.)

Sharron had taken some small joy in that.

But seeing the spot of woodland destroyed; trees sawed down, bulldozers upending the earth, the pond drained, the birds and the bunnies fleeing...it broke Sharron's heart. And the magical creatures of her Valley...well, just faded away. Sharron tried her best to avoid having to go near the Valley—former used car dealership now strip-mall. On the rare occasions when that could not be done, she kept her eyes focused straight ahead in a desperate attempt not see the lost of her wondrous world. Life moved forward, as it does, and so did Sharron. She did her best to forget the Valley: finished high school, graduated college, found a safe, boring job.

Then one day she had to go to the strip-mall.

Sharron parked in front of the Chinese restaurant. This was the first time she had set foot in the hated strip-mall nee' used car lot. It wasn't her choice; she was picking up a food order her friends had placed, and unbeknownst to her the restaurant was in the former Valley. She wished she hadn't volunteered without knowing the location, but it was time to be an adult and put aside the odd sadness she would feel whenever she was near the once woodland field.

Just as Sharron was about to enter the restaurant, something caught her eye.

“What the hell...?” Sharron yelped. Standing casually by a ice cream shop was a unicorn.

A unicorn. There were many people around and not a one of them spotted a silver-gray horse with a white horn growing out of the middle of its head.

Sharron shook her head violently. “No,” she whispered. “It just can't be!”

Yet there it was, eating the marigolds from a planter. The unicorn looked up and stared at Sharron.

Sharron began to run towards the creature. She ran, ignoring the angry shouts of people she almost toppled over in the pursuit of a dream. She ran, nearly getting hit by a car. She ran and she was close enough to touch the unicorn's beautiful shimmering coat, and...

...Sharron was in the Valley. It was a real valley. Green and mountainous with skies the color of vein-less turquoise. And there was a river that flowed, clear and sparkling. And there was—dragons.

Dragons. Sharron counted five winged dragons soaring overhead.

“There weren't any dragons in the Valley,” Sharron said, both awed and frightened. “Is this going to be a problem?'

“Oh, no. Not at all.”

Sharron jumped and screamed. The unicorn smiled. Sharron didn't know they could do that let alone speak.

“The dragons aren't the problem,” the unicorn continued, “it's the...what are they called again in your world? Ah, yes! The problem is the used car salesman.”