once upon a time

there were four little red and gold dragons

one went off to a round faced singing boy, who set it on the piano and composed happy music to charm the world. the dragon learned to sing and chirp and hum along, and had a beautiful extroverted life ahead of him, constant giggles and deep reflections running through the notes like ripples on a pond.

one went off to a bright little boy with numbers and building blocks dancing around his head, and together they built many spaceships and solved many riddles, pausing occasionally to explain to others the fun and rules ( and changing the rules when profitable.)

and one sibling went off to a quiet boy who thought like a ninja and enjoyed green things, and who had been wanting a dragon for quite a while, being of a dragonish talent himself. he taught the dragon how to speak different languages and move invisibly, and they spent a pleasant amount of time doing that in their own good company.

but the fourth dragon got tucked into a hoodie pocket of a thoughtful sort of girl and carried off on all sorts of adventures. sometimes the two went to photo club and learned all about apertures and focus, and sometimes they wrote stories together, with the door shut on the world so they could find a little peace and a better storyline.

and in the end, all the dragons chose exactly right, and while they looked near identical, they each shared unique moments with unique owners and, over the years, shape shifted to look a little more like them in tiny but pleasing ways.

the end

Once upon a time...

There was a sailboat in and out of the harbour, and this one particular docking took so long she started thinking about the barnacles and comforts she found there. In between talking with other boats, teasing the seagulls, and taking extra credit courses on navigation, she hardly heard her captain mention a new eastern voyage. The next few weeks were spent in new maneuvers, loading supplies, and making the most of last hours with her sailing friends. But then one day she woke up to an odd sense of calm over the harbour. She told herself it was because she'd finished her course and the others were still busy with theirs... she took some good draughts of freshwater while it was handy... and still the quiet remained. She finally looked around and realised that everything was ready for the trip... except for her. She had hardly thought about what it would mean, only what it would not mean... less friend boats around, less quiet evenings at rest during the sunset, less mornings of impatience. What the trip would mean, who knew? New horizons and stories, evenings and mornings, boats and seagulls... she would find out soon enough....

Once upon a time...

There was a sleepy dragon. This dragon was so sleepy, it could barely keep its eyes open. But it knew it had to find a warm place to sleep or it would get chilled. Since it was a very small dragon, about the size of your hand, it only needed a small space. The problem was that, since it was so small, it was very easily stepped on or knocked over (once it took a nap in a visitor's purse and got dropped when they stood up to go).

So the very sleepy dragon started ambling through the house in search of a cosy place. It dodged around a counter, almost walked into a chair, and narrowly escaped being hit by a swinging door. Hrrr'ing in annoyance, the dragon finally gave up and began climbing the wall. Digging its little claws in, it went paw by paw up until it reached the ceiling, then climbed onto that. Although the ceiling looked so safe from the busy traffic floor, the dragon realised that there were things to be careful of while up top too. There was a ceiling fan in the living room, and door frames to climb over, and spider webs to avoid. For a moment, it felt a warmth by its feet, and felt hopeful... but then realised there were light bulbs warming a small bit of the ceiling, and there was no place to curl up by them.

So on and on the poor little dragon travelled, though by this time it was so very tired that it kept tripping and almost fell up into the air. But finally, finally, the dragon sensed some warmth nearby and tumbled gratefully onto the top of a cupboard, right next to a delicious hot air vent. Safe from feet and hands, comfy and warm... it was the perfect place for a nap. The dragon sighed contentedly, closed its eyes, and curled up with its tail around cosily till it could rest its head on the tippy point. Then it gave a huge yawn from its tiny mouth and went to sleep in peace.

The end.

Once upon a time...

A baby was born. There were already hints of sea blue eyes and sand yellow hair and sparkly adventures, but for the moment she was simply a beautiful small child.

And the fairies that hung around her cradle on the evening of her first half-birthday discussed what to do with her. "Let's steal her!" suggested one mischievous imp. "She'll take care of our children when she grows up and sing them songs." "I think she should cook for us," said one practical fairy, "and then we'll have more time for magic."
"Take a better look at her," said one fairy, very very quietly. One and then several at a time, the fairies and pixies leaned over her and took a good long look at her. "Oh," they nodded and backed away carefully, "oh."

"Yes," said the quiet one. "This is a dangerous one. She has the Story Magic."

The fairies agreed among themselves that stealing a human child with Story Magic would be a very bad idea and a very grave mistake. "But why?" wondered a young pixie who had slipped in behind the older ones. "Why is that so bad? We love stories. She could tell them to our babies, and amuse our children while they spin cobwebs, and spin tales by the campfire. We have Story Magic ourselves. She would fit in."

The older and wiser fairies murmured in disagreement. One wrinkly small lady shook her light green head seriously. "No, that will not do. You see, a human's Story Magic is stronger than ours. Our stories- we bind and weave, colour and glamour, twist and darken and lighten what is there. But human stories have the power to change things, to shift and shape reality into something else." She gestured with a tiny hand to the wide-eyed baby, "this one, we should keep an eye on. She has many stories ahead of her...."

As the sun began to rise, the fairies started to pick up their leafy packs and head back to the woods. The quiet fairy, the one who had warned them against stealing the baby, waited till the others drifted out the foggy window. Then she wafted back to lean over the bed. "Sweet dreams, little one. It is glad I am that you won't be serving our kind. But all the same... you are welcome to visit our world when it pleases you, small Story Spinner."

With that, she blew a dusting of silver powder over the baby, who only smiled and closed her eyes.