Trapped Until Dawn

There weren't always dragons in the Valley ...

They had appeared after what will be forever remembered as “The Rise.”

When the emerald green scaly beasts rose from their sleep after millenniums of deep slumber underwater, the earth trembled. Grounds shook. The creatures’ first exhales erected fires that scattered along the coast before their massive bodies slithered to the skies. All that remained was destruction and panic.

There were some who screamed.

Others got to their knees and prayed.

Some ran in a desperate search for shelter.

But it was in the wary eyes of the elders that I had focused.

Those who knew.

Those who had spoken of the legend of the sleeping dragons in the bay.

They said the dragons had come to protect us long ago from invaders on the coast. Shape-shifting dragons with ridged spines dove into the ocean leaving only the spikes on their backs above the water that appeared like hundreds of islets. Seemingly an illusion. From a distance, the islets looked like a solid land mass of dense forest canopy. From their perspective at sea, the invaders could only see rolling hills desolate of people and not worth the effort of invading nor the effort of exploring the sharp peaks. So, they turned the helms of their ships and sailed away. Cries of joy and prayers of gratitude to the dragons were sung in the streets. The dragons had given up their freedom to protect us. Their only apparent compensation was the worship of the people. Until the people, preoccupied with daily mundaneness and centuries of forgetfulness, took the beasts’ sacrifices for granted.

Overtime it became a legend. Told to every child and passed on over endless generations. Just a campfire tale. It wasn’t. The passing of time didn’t change the truth. Now, somehow, multiple thick and endlessly long dragons were back among the human realm. They settled into the valley overlooking the city and haunted the villagers who were fated to endure curfew after sundown. At dusk, a large bronze bell from the town temple would ring, and its vibrations echoed across the territory, bouncing off the stone walls of the small village homes and shaking the tile on their roofs. The hollowed metal instrument with intricate hand carvings ignited daily dread that had mothers call out to their children to quickly run inside to shelter. The sound was created when a townsman would push a giant cedar log against the bell five times. The sound prompted everyone to hide and close the wooden blinds. The sound reminded everyone of the ongoing threat which weighed like a storm cloud on their spirits. A reminder not to dare peek into the night. This was our lives now. Trapped until dawn.

My grandfather was part of the brave that would defy the warning and wander into the night. One of those nights, he did not return. He had known more about the dragons than he had time to share, and I lived with that regret. Despite his disappearance, I was not afraid of the dragons. Not after what he had told me the night of The Rise.

That memory of that evening is still vivid in my mind. The night sky was bright. Set ablaze from eruptions of fire and orange smoke. I watched the reflection of the beasts swaying through the smoky sky in my grandfather’s watery eyes. He peered through the glass window, not a muscle moving in his wrinkled face. His cinnamon-brown skin seemed heavy from decades of labor. His sun-cracked lips were tucked and his chin high as he looked up to the rising smoke. It was all in his eyes. An eerie calmness made possible by a life that has been so difficult for so long that there is nothing more to alarm over, the outcome will be the same - it’s just a matter of time. But when he looked down at me, his breath caught in his throat. It was then, betraying his fearless façade, that a tear escaped from his gleaming eyes. It caught in the crack of a thick wrinkle on his cheek. Quickly, he used a calloused thumb to wipe away the evidence and lowered to his knees before closing his eyes. He grabbed my arms tight into his hands and spoke in his calm aged voice which I had always looked to for comfort.

“When the dragons come for you, boy –”

My whole body started shaking. The dragons were coming for…for me? Agitation rose as I started thrashing against his hands. My grandfather tightened his grip as he pressed his forehead against mine.

“Shh – Do not be afraid my child, listen close and always remember. Always remember what they sacrificed. Always remember why they slept in the bay. They have been forgotten! When the dragons come for you son, do not run.”