With a chill in the air and leaves swirling, it was the beginning of Fall. Dew covered the forest floor. Off in the distance was a faint whine. My ears perked up, and I squinted to see better. I am an older dragon, you know, and my senses aren't what they used to be. I laid my giant head back down and chose to ignore the noise. My eyes started to close as I dozed into slumber, but the whining grew louder. Annoyed and frustrated, I rose up from my cozy bed of leaves. I was used to getting my 30 plus years of sleep and without it, I get cranky. I stuck out my neck and squinted again to see what this disturbance was all about. There was nothing there. Nothing but the misty fog and cold, still forest. The noise had seized and all was quiet.
Since I was already up, I decided to walk and maybe find a bit of food for my grumbling belly. I walked to the edge of the clearing and spotted a hearty plant. I am a vegetarian, which is odd for a dragon. My entire life, I was never like other dragons. Most of them ate meat and were loud.
I lowered my head and opened my mouth, looking forward to such a yummy meal. At that very moment, a shriek and cry that shook the birds from the trees began to echo through the forest. Even for a grown dragon like myself, I was startled and froze in fright. Afraid to move a muscle, and I had plenty, I stood there with my mouth wide open, only moving my eyes to see what was around me. Again, there was a scream and cry that rang out and seemed to come from under my chest. I jumped back preparing to run, when I noticed a tiny, dirty human with mangled hair. I might not have even known it was a human. I had never seen one in real life, only in the stories my mother used to read at bedtime when I was a hatchling. I thought humans were supposed to be kind and playful. In the books, they were always frolicking in the forest, picking flowers and playing. But this, this human was nothing like the ones in the storybooks. She cried again, but not as loud. Her large, tear filled eyes were locked on mine and her little lips quivered into a frown. I couldn’t move, afraid that I would make her scream again. She didn’t move either and appeared frightened herself, so we stood there. Staring.
I slowly began to back away. Unaware of anything else around me except the tot, our eyes still glued on one another. The child reminded me of a gnome or a fairy and began to calm myself. I lowered my head and curiously tilted it sideways to get a better look. I could tell she was calming down as well, but still cautious. She was shivering from the cold air and her clothes were worn and ragged. Where had she come from? Who was she and how did she end up here?
Waking from a deep slumber, the tot rubbed her eyes and heard the chirping of birds in the forest. Looking around for signs of anyone, she realized she was alone. Unsure where to go and what to do, she let out a cry. A bird flew past her and for a moment, she was distracted. But suddenly, reality hit her. She remembered she was alone, releasing another rumbling cry even louder than the first. Standing near a large leafy plant with tears in her eyes, she was scared. As she was looking around at the wondrous and large forest, a large mouth lowered itself just above her. She screamed in fright, but also as a warning. The mouth stopped moving but just hung there above her. Although she was just a tot, maybe about the age of 2, she had wisdom well beyond her years. She screamed again in anger and the mouth moved. As it jumped back, she suddenly realized it was attached to a large rusty colored dragon. She was scared, but stood her ground whimpering, staring at the dragon as it stared right back. The tension between them began to calm, and a state of clarity came over her. She was able to see the dragon's thoughts. "Can the dragon see my thoughts too?", she wondered. She imagined the dragon wearing silly underwear, hopping on one foot with a birthday cone hat on its head, just to test if it could see her thoughts. Either the dragon couldn’t see, or it had no sense of humor. As her attention went back to the dragon’s mind, she could see that it was curious and not wanting to harm her, but maybe even help her. She was cold, hungry and willing to accept help. She extended her hand to show or offer peace. The dragon looked surprised, but lowered his nose to her hand in a sign of friendship. Without warning, the sky turned darker and thunder clapped above. An unexpected storm seemed to brew from out of nowhere. The dragon scooped her up and tucked her under its wing. Off they ran back in the forest to find shelter.
The sky began to clear, and the sun was able to poke through the trees, shining a few spotlights into the forest. The tot was now warm, having been snuggled under my wing. I could tell she was feeling happy and playful, but I was sure she had to be hungry. I was famished! I gathered up some of the best leaves, forest flowers, fruits and veggies that I could find and brought them to her. We happily munched, and she did a little happy dance as she ate. This was certainly more of the way I had thought humans would be. I sat there eating, watching and thinking. “What do I do now?”, I thought. I was still unsure of where she came from or how she got here. Then, as if she was reading my mind, she grabbed a rock and began to draw on the side of my cave. She danced and twirled as she drew, even pausing to take another bite of apple and then back to the drawing board, or wall I should say. Her tale was captivating. She showed me that she was created with such care and detail in another world and then placed into mine. Each part of her was chosen and crafted to be just who she was - an adorable, curly headed, witty little human. And it was decided from that other world, that she would be mine. I didn’t understand it all, but was grateful... grateful that I was chosen to keep her, protect her and accept her for who she was.
I had been alone in the forest, in my world, for most of my life. Now I had someone to care for, and she would be there to care for me. We played games, took walks in the forest and enjoyed the sunshine in the clearings. Day after day, night after night, it was the best time of my life. The joy I felt was nothing I had ever experienced. And the best part was that year after year, the tot, that little girl, stayed the same sweet, silly little tot that she ever was. Somehow when she entered my world, time stopped in the forest. The sun still rose and set, but neither of us aged. And so it would be that we could spend more than a lifetime together.
About the Creator
Shanon Canuto
Originally from the mountains of NC. I enjoy writing, running, cooking, naps, traveling and spending time with my family. I love a good thunder storm and outdoor yoga.:)
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La Vida Colorida
She lived such a colorful life. I didn’t see it all first hand but the stories she would tell were full of adventure, humor and excitement. From singing at restaurants in Mexico, owning a bar in California and even a cab driver in Arizona, there was never a dull moment. When I see the Scarlet Macaw, I think of her. Just like the Macaw she was sociable and loud, love you Abuela! She has been gone for years now but she, and her language, were as colorful as the bird. Beautiful, graceful, smart and sassy, just like the Scarlet Macaw, she is my grandmother. Once someone is gone from this earth, they continue to live in us through memories. My grandmother was a fierce and beautiful light in the world eerily similar to this magnificent bird. I like to think that all the sassy Latina grandmothers come back as Scarlet Macaws. The colorful feathers are a reflection of their colorful lives, Vida Colorida. They are admired by many for their intelligence and beauty. They are elegant but will defend their families. Macaws, unlike other birds, will stay with their mate and together they will take care of the hatchlings. My grandmother had her own hatchlings, my mother being the eldest helped to take care of the younger ones while the parents worked. My grandmother was a master at any job she had but she would get bored and move on to something else. Incredibly intelligent and loved learning new things, like the Macaw, she never stayed in the same place for too long. Life is to be lived and enjoyed, she would say. She loved playing cards and any game really, where money was on the line. She lived dangerously and risky some might say, but it was calculated risks and she always came out on top. She showed my mother and other women in the family what it meant to be a strong, determined wife and mother while keeping her feminine elegance all the while. Like a scarlet macaw preening itself, Abuelita always had her hair, nails and makeup done. Grandmother always dressed to impress regardless of where she was going that day, or even if only to stay at home. She made sure that the house was tidy and clean, that the children were dressed and always doing their best, as expectations were a huge part of her successful mindset. Grandmother always knew her worth and expected fair compensation for work and services, just as a macaw learning new tricks would expect a reward each time something new is mastered. It is a marvelous thought to think all the Macaws are someone’s beloved grandmother, bold and full of spirit, flying over us to watch us and take care of the land. However, Macaws are endangered due to the declining rainforest and because of their brilliant colors and looks, they are being poached. We should protect and honor the birds and the land the way our grandmother’s protected and honored our families. I pray that I have made my grandmother proud, she certainly wasn’t afraid to tell you otherwise if you didn’t, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The Macaw is a reminder to me to keep living life to the fullest, to be bold and bright, don’t fall into being like everyone else. A reminder to be an individual and don’t compare yourself to anyone else. All of the birds are unique and fascinating in their own ways. Fly freely everyday and make the most of your colorful time here on this beautiful earth.
By Shanon Canuto4 years ago in Fiction
The Dryads are Calling
They say the forest by Phoenix River sings. Perhaps it is just he wind howling through the leaves, or a particular birdsong. But Percy Fisher knows better; he knows what lies in those woods, and he knows that the forest sings of his demise.
By Leigh Hooperabout 4 hours ago in Fiction
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