The Book of Creatures

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything. 14 year old me took issue with that. Why couldn’t there be dragons here? Why couldn’t there be unicorns and fairies and all sorts of mythical creatures living in this emerald wasteland of crisp mountain air, snow covered slopes, and did I mention the never-setting midnight sun? I was starved for stimulation. Nothing cool ever happened in Alaska. Every year was the same—winter all year, then a brief reprieve of summer, then back to the snow. I mean yeah if you’re into the outdoors and stuff, this place is pretty awesome—but when you’re bullied mercilessly for being a little plump, you tend to turn inward— like into a good book. For us kids seeking a thrill or two on a Friday night, the most exciting thing you might find is a black bear rifling through your trash or witnessing the chronically drunk neighbor getting kicked out of the tavern. But I digress—I’m sure you’d rather hear about the day this valley became the most interesting place on earth.

Let me set the stage for you: it was my birthday, in the middle of the summer, and we were having an uncharacteristically spicy one at that. Dad was busy gallivanting with his newest OkCupid match. I’m not sure he even remembered it was my birthday.

The polar ice caps were melting more rapidly than usual and the formerly glorious glaciers were dwindling down to the ancient grey silt beneath them. It was so unbearably hot that I took my bike down to our local grocery store (the only place in town with air conditioning), to cool myself off in the cafe, free birthday treat in hand, while perusing my latest eBay purchase: the first volume of an encyclopedia of mythical creatures. Did I believe in fairies and dragons? No, not really. Was I interested in them? Hell yeah I was. When you don’t have many friends you tend to dream up scenarios where people (or creatures) actually like you, or one where your life isn’t so insignificant. Books were my portal to another universe, figuratively of course—at least, it was.

Despite my skepticism, I purchased the oldest, brownest, most-peeled and stained book I could find online with my birthday money. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping it was full of magical spells and incantations to break through the monotony. The book was so tattered, it threatened to fall apart if I looked at it the wrong way. Still, I chalked the aged look up to a publishers trick. Surely an encyclopedia of mythical creatures must be relatively new? I’ve seen those tea-dyed pages before and the skeptic in me was hard to please. There was no author, just a symbol at the bottom of the cover that suggested a name or organization in a language I was unfamiliar with, just next to a suspiciously crimson spot spread across the bottom edge of the cover.

Flipping to the first page, my nose was immediately assaulted by the musty smell of a used library book mixed with the scent of world travels. Inside the cover, an inscription read:

“Look inside, keep the faith, no matter what happens.

P.S. Happy Birthday to my favorite adventurer.”

My heart fluttered in my chest, remembering that today was my birthday and I was no one’s favorite adventurer. Dad didn’t really pay attention to me, he was too busy wooing potential step-moms to “give me structure” and “get my head out of the clouds.” Don’t get me started on his “act like a lady” bullshit too. My grandma was the only one who could say that to me without making my blood boil. She was my world, and now both of my worlds were gone, leaving me to raise myself with little to no help from my father.

I skipped past the prologue and glossary, turning to one of the first couple pages in the book. What I saw when I turned the page would make anyone think they’ve lost their damn mind, or at least get their head checked for heatstroke. The first entry in the book was not an entry at all, it was the fresh breeze of frozen mountain air, a gust of wind trailing powder snow, spruce trees, and a large shadowy figure far off in the distance. In gilded letters at the top of the page flashed a description of the abominable snowman. I hoped it couldn’t hear me or see me as I blinked my eyes a few times to make sure it wasn’t my imagination getting the best of me. Nope, still there. I glanced around to see if anyone else noticed the alpine scenario unfolding in front of me. Maybe I’d been in the heat too long. Magic wasn’t real after all, right?The only people in sight were the cafe barista who hadn’t looked up from her phone since she sat down, and the lone grocery cashier on the other side of the store.

Taking my chances, I reached out—or rather IN to the book. A frigid gust of snow blew towards me, sending a shiver down my back. I wasn’t hallucinating. I pulled my hand back from the book, bringing a handful of snow from the pristine mountainside. Did anyone seen that? Did the yeti see that? What if the yeti is another entry in the book and he didn’t like being confused with his cousin, the abominable snowman? I casually pressed the snow to my head just to see if it was real, or maybe I’d wake up.

The rapidly warming slush dripped down my forehead and on to the table in front of me. Yep, it was real. Glancing around one last time, I casually dropped the snow beneath the table because who’s going to know? It’s like kicking the stray ice cube under the fridge. The sneaking suspicion that I was dreaming prompted a hard pinch that did nothing but leave my arm sore. I flipped a few pages to the B section and landed on a dazzling blue ocean. Somehow the moon looked bigger than it ever looks in Alaska, like it was kissing the earth, hiding just at the horizon. The gold title flashed at the top: bakunawa.

My heart jumped in my throat. Ever since I was little, I was obsessed with dragons. Not just like your average run of the mill Lord of the Rings dragon, but Asian dragons—all kinds, all cultures. When my mom left, I tried desperately to reconnect with her roots as an immigrant from the Philippines, but without her there I was left to learn on my own while my father tried to convince me the only half that mattered was my white half. But I’m not half a person—I’m a whole person, and he couldn’t take that half away from me. My grandma’s Chinese zodiac was the dragon, and I always thought it was fitting because she was majestic and regal in her own right. Now that she was gone, I wanted to reconnect with her in any way possible, and for this I spent days in the library reading about mythological creatures from the motherland I’d never been to.

I knew what bakunawa was. He was a Filipino water dragon that was said to have been banished by the gods for eating the moons while trying to bring light to the depths of the deep black ocean he came from. Bringer of earthquakes, eclipses, and torrential rain, Bakunawa was a majestic dragon that was described as being large enough to eclipse the sun and moon.

I stared at the page intently, waiting to get a glimpse of the King of Bad Weather Phenomena himself. Was he asleep? Do dragons sleep? What’s the time zone in the book? Or do they all have their own timezones? They must, I concluded, the shadowy figure on the previous page was wandering around sun lit slopes, while it was dusk in the dragon’s habitat. I considered reaching my arm into the page and wondered if anyone would notice me sitting in the cafe, suddenly losing my arm. Should I scream or will there be enough blood pouring on to the table for someone to notice? At the rate Cafe Girl is looking down, I doubted she’d notice if Bakunawa came through the page and sat at the cafe with me.

I carefully tapped the water surface with a fingertip, not daring to put my whole arm through. That way if I lost my fingertip, I could probably make it to the ER on bike and tell them I had an accident while chopping onions. The water was calm for an ocean, but not calm enough to see the ripple in the water as I pulled my finger out of the page. No sign of Bakunawa. I slapped the surface with my palm, daring him to show up. Still nothing. Wiping my sea salted hand on my shorts, I stared down at the page waiting for a sign from him—hoping a maelstrom would form and the great moon-swallower would show. I pulled out my phone to verify the lunar forecast. Nope, this week was not a full moon week, yet here was the moon staring back at me larger than ever. Could it one of the 6 moons Bakunawa stole?

Daring to be brave, I lifted the book up to eye level and pushed my face into the page, whispering “Bakunawa, where are you?” Pulling back from the book, my nose was immediately assaulted by the familiar scent of sea foam, ocean spray, and kelp. The ocean swirled and churned, forming a whirlpool larger than a stadium. The water glowed and bubbled with anticipation of the serpent’s arrival.

The great sapphire blue dragon burst out of the ocean and into the air, a column of scales and wings and a tail, swirling in mid-air figure 8’s. He seemed to shine like the moon itself, every scale radiating an ethereal golden glow. I stuck my face back into the book bravely, hoping he only ate moons, not people.

“Who summoned me?” His voice echoed through the atmosphere like the sound of 100 sonic booms. I couldn’t answer, I was too afraid to speak. Imagine being the world’s greatest skeptic and then meeting the legend himself. I was both starstruck (or rather moonstruck) and terrified of the glorious creature unfolding himself in front of me. Five minutes ago dragons were a fiction of peoples’ imagination before I was forced to reconsider my beliefs.

“I said WHO summoned me. Show yourself cowardly mortal!” he boomed.

I carefully chose my next words, not daring to offend the swallower of moons. “Hello, uh, your majesty, Bakunawa, sir. It was me, just a lowly peasant uh, not worthy and all that. I summoned you to…” my voice trailed off.

Why did I summon him? Just to see if he was real? In hindsight that is a really stupid reason to call a dragon that can rock the world in one swallow. I improvised on the spot, hoping my ignorance wouldn’t anger him.

“I summoned you because I was told you could help me contact the underworld and if anyone is powerful and mighty enough, it’s you. I miss my grandmother. ” The last part wasn’t a lie.

“Bodyless human, do you dare wake a sleeping dragon to ask for a personal favor?” He glowered at me.

“I, uh, I just heard you are able to travel to the underworld, at least that’s what some tribes believe and I didn’t think any other dragons were big and brave enough to help me so I came to you, oh king of serpents.”

He dove under the water, resurfacing just his yellow eyes, whiskers, and nostrils halfway out of the water facing me. Swimming closer to me like a crocodile about to barrel roll his latest prey, he flicked his red tongue into the air.

“I’ve smelled you before human,” his low speaking voice still booming, despite being significantly quieter than his sky voice.

“What do you mean you’ve smelled me before? I’ve never met you, I just got this…this book of mythical creatures.”

The mythical creature flicked his tongue at me and said, “Yes, you have never met me. But I have met you, when you were a baby. I know it was you, you smell just like her, little human.”

“Like who?” I asked sincerely. As far as I knew my mom was just an addict who ran the first chance she could.

The dragon inquired, “What is your name little one?”

“Uhhh…uhhh…Aurora.” I stammered.

“Well uh uh Aurora, I never forget a scent and I would never forget yours. You are, after all, one of my descendants, though I am unsure how many years have passed in this wretched dimension.” He seemed weary but still mighty, time did not dull his godlike presence.

I couldn’t tell if he was joking. “It’s just Aurora, no ‘uh uh’ but um, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was born in the USA, what do you mean ‘your descendant?’” I asked quietly, realizing I probably looked like an absolute crazy person to anyone watching me in the cafe, head literally planted in a book.

The dragon shook his head and sighed, “What do they teach children these days? Where is your mother and why didn’t she tell you?”

The topic of mother leaving stung every time it was brought up, and I just wasn’t in the mood. “She left. She left and didn’t look back. That’s why.” I said, downcast.

The dragon considered my words, staring intently with his giant glassy yellow eyes. He was now so close that he could eat me in one lick if he wanted to, at least, my face he could eat. I looked down at the water, stuck somewhere between shock, awe, and terror. He circled around me, looking for the other half of my body.

“You don’t have to worry, I don’t eat relatives. That would be weird wouldn’t it?” He mused.

Realizing I’d been in his page for at least 15 or 20 minutes now, I needed to end the conversation so I could get somewhere safe if I were to continue this conversation.

Hoping to the god or gods I didn’t piss off the dragon I summoned, I gingerly asked “Um, Mr. Bakunawa sir, can I call you that? Uh, I don’t mean to cut our conversation short but I didn’t know I was about to meet a dragon and I’m kind of sitting in the middle of a cafe in a grocery store. Would you mind if maybe we continue this conversation after I get home? I didn’t think you were going to answer me so quickly, I should have prepared better, uh sir. I mean, your majesty. It’s my fault I wasn’t prepared, I am not all wise like you sir.”

The dragon came to stop, mid swirl, his body forming a giant writhing whirlpool of scales surrounding my face. I wondered how I must look to him, but he didn’t seem fazed by it.

In a decidedly more patronly tone, the dragon warned me, “Go home child, and do not ever bring this book out of the protected home. There are things in here that you cannot fathom, beings that would destroy your world in the blink of an eye. I will consider your request if you consider mine: let me out. I have done my time in this god forsaken place, and I want OUT. All you have to do is make the deal with me. I give you what you want, and you give me my freedom.”

“Um yeah sure, I mean, I have to think about it. I’ve seen enough movies to know you don’t just make deals with magical creatures without assessing the risks, but yeah I will consider it. Wait, so you’re saying you can contact the underworld for me?” I was flabbergasted by the suggestion that I could see my grandmother again.

The dragon sternly warned me, “Go home child of mine, and we will discuss this later when you are safe. And to answer your question, you may call me Lolo Baku, I am your greatest grandfather after all.” He turned and breached downward with a splash the size of an atom bomb, descending into the depths of the deep blue sea.

I pulled my face out of the book, face dripping with sea spray, and looked around. A wave of relief washed over me. The barista was still giggling at clips on her phone, no new customers in sight—and then I saw him. The cute cashier from across the store was not across the store anymore, he was 20 feet away, sitting in the cafe to my right, a few feet behind me. It looked like it was his break time, and his jaw was wide open like he’d seen a ghost. Or a water dragon, I couldn’t be sure. My eyes widened as they met his, and I instinctively put a finger up to my mouth willing him to shush if he saw anything.

Wiping the saltwater off my face, I bolted out of there so quickly, he didn’t have time to react. All that mattered, was that magic is real, and as long as I held that book, it was mine.

No more monotonous summers.