Paper Dragons

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley...”

At least, that’s what the first note said. It was the strangest thing. I woke one morning, as usual and began my normal routine. Coffee. Breakfast. Clean the dishes. Then I saw it. A tiny, perfect origami dragon, settled comfortably on my windowsill. As I got closer to inspect it, it suddenly sprang to it’s feet. Letting out the smallest puff of smoke. I jumped back, startled by the sudden movement of an otherwise inanimate object. The little paper dragon scowled at me, if you could call it a scowl. After a moment of silence and still, seemingly satisfied, the dragon moved from the previously unnoticed envelope he’d settled himself upon. A crisply folded piece of parchment sealed in gold, smelling of a spice I had no name for.

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Until you, dear creator, brought them to us. The peace you’ve given us has lasted for generations. But our world is being threatened once more. You told us, before you left, to find you when we needed you.

We need you. The soldiers are losing hope, the citizens are far worse off. We have prepared your space. Your room is ready, the clerics are standing by, we graciously wait for you.”

I couldn’t bring myself to focus on work. The strange message weighed heavily on my mind. Creator of what? Who sent this message and why? Well, the why seems simple at this point. Someone’s world is in danger. From what? What could I possibly do to help—

“Hello? Are you even paying attention?”

It was my manager, harping over some trivial thing as she usually did, I’m sure.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m listening Barbra. Sales targets are low, do my call backs, make sure the reports are done.” I replied, barely masking the sheer contempt in my voice.

“Good.” A single word reply before she trotted away. Hateful old hag. But I needed this job, the note can wait a few more hours, only a couple reports left.

When I arrived home the dragon was gone. But the parchment remained on the counter where I’d left it. I scanned it once more before sitting back to think about what to do about it. I had to write back. I didn’t know how to summon the carrier dragon back, but I had to try, right? What kind of person doesn’t respond to a plea for help? I penned my response over the next few hours.

“Hello.

I’m afraid I don’t know this “creator” you’re calling for. I’m not sure what kind of help I could provide. I don’t know anything of you or your world. But I do know that paper dragons are not a thing here. I’m still not sure if I’m hallucinating this or not, but I going to reply.

Yours,

Ethan.”

I folded the paper and set it on the windowsill where I’d found the first note.

In the morning when I stumbled downstairs for my coffee a dragon was there. Not in the same startling blue the previous one was. This was a muted shade of red, folded in a different way. Almost sloppy, like an amateur had done it. He snorted bad temperedly at the plain paper I’d written upon and flew off empty handed.

.

Princess Evangeline looked over her shoulder in the morning light, taking a break from her endless studies to gaze at her kingdom from her library. Placid, green and quiet. She inhaled the comforting smell of her old tomes and spells. The minor squabbles of the villagers could not shatter the peace that had reigned over her lands since her great-great- grandfathers time. The stories of old told of the immense battle. An incredible hero, creator of her realm, that had come at her family’s call to vanquish the evil. He’d stayed long enough to establish lasting treaties before marching into the mist, never to return.

As the sun sank that day everything changed. This was the day the soldiers marched, her villages burned, and her people cried for help. It was time. It was time to call him back.

Unsure how to even begin, she wrote a simple message. Began by praising him for what he’d done. How greatly revered he was, before desperately pleading for his help once again. She could only hope he’d receive it. Only hope he could come once more. She placed a gentle kiss upon her newest dragon’s tiny brow, before sending him on his critical journey.

It was only a few moments before her little dragon returned to her. He purred as he crawled into her hand. Signaling that he had succeeded in his mission. She laid him down to nap after his long journey near her low burning candle. Quick as a flash she retrieved one of her older dragons, one the first she’d folded; to check for a reply. When he returned with nothing, she nearly lost hope. But she decided, ‘I’ll send another note. I’ll send another. I have nothing else to lose.”

And she penned her next more desperate letter, to the background of the symphony of her kingdom dying.