Morris... by Jeremiah Whitehead

Is this Morris?

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Morris

A bug just hit my eyeball! Yuck! I'm just minding my own business, flying through a calm morning sky. What did I do to deserve a bug in my eye? Nothing! That’s what! I sigh and blink a tear to wash away the insect carcass, seeing a glimmer of orange gold.

The edge of the sun peeks over the horizon above the Mountains to the East. I always marvel at the variegated colors and how they mingle together. I see all sorts of images within their vibrant hues. I wish all creatures of the Earth could see the world as I do. I think it would solve so many problems. So much of the world’s conflict might be ended this way. All they need to do is look to the sky more often. If it weren't for the fact that I need to eat, I would never land. No, that's not true. It gets lonely up here in the clouds. Even such a beautiful view as this new-morning sunrise can do little to bring true joy to my heart.

There! That's a juicy bovine treat if I do say so myself. How long has it been since I have eaten last? Three? No, four weeks. I can’t wait much longer, so this is my feeding ground. At least the beast smells well-kept and clean.

I watch as the white-and-black cow moves from one grassy area of a field to another. My stomach is hollow and echoes with intestinal noise. I pound my front claw against my underbelly to make it go away, but it seems to get worse.

I flex my muscles and feel the wind pressing against my veins. "Tighter." I lift my tail upwards against the downdraft. The skin from wing-tip to wing-tip pulls taut. I rise against the downward flow of air.

The air grows crisp at higher altitudes and ice crystals grow as stalactites from my upper teeth. The higher the lofting angle, the better chance of a single-sweep catch. That's what my Father always taught. He's beyond the Rim now along with so many others of the Mist-wise. I blink ice from an eye and crest the upper clouds.

It feel wonderous each time I turn for the descent. I almost feel weightless, able to fly without my wings. That lasts a long moment, but then I curve downward. Folding my wings against my ribs, I tighten the muscles in my neck and feel my speed increase ten-fold in a matter of moments.

I see the land draw nearer and nearer. I flex a claw and reach out. Then I feel a sharp piercing along my rib cage. I quench the flame in my throat to avoid catching fire. I have seen a number of other Dragons ignite their breath after a piercing shot like this one only to have the wound erupt in fire to engulf their heads. It's one of the few spots tender enough to kill us.

I find that I am howling as I hurtle into the pasture. Dirt and manure spray out behind me as I tumble head-over-tail-over-head. When I finally slide to a halt, I feel for the shaft of the arrow and yank it out. The pain makes me roar. A spray of blood drenches the ground before it clots. I clear my head and listen.

Thirteen distinct voices, none of them synchronized, call out. "Die beast!"

I sigh, which belches out as a fiery cloud. I can understand their fear. I am as large as their largest communal dwelling and can breathe out streams of liquid fire. If I were that size I would be afraid as well. I do wish they were more creative with their threats. Die beast? If I had a cow for every time I have heard “Die beast” I would have enough to fill my Great-Father’s Hoarding Lair.

I eat as much as I need and no more. I have never harmed a Human so why the arrow? I'm not one of those angry Dragons of ages past that pillaged and burned. That would have been Great-Father’s era. I think gold and gems are pretty and shiny, but they don't excite me like the idea of just having someone with whom I can discuss philosophy and artistry and logic. One true friend is worth a thousand-thousand Diamonds.

I watch these Humans approach with their slow legs. I stop myself from mocking the short, pedestrian strides. I think I may grow my next horn before they reach me. I sit up and twist my neck so that I am facing the mob of men. They look like farmers for the most part. A few might know how to hold an actual weapon, but I would wager none has ever had the need. I can't help but sigh again.

I quiet my voice to the buzz of a beehive. "I mean you no harm."

The mob stops short at my words, all but a few that shove past their mates. The entire group becomes a milling mass of arms and legs. They shout and fight amongst themselves.

I wait impatiently for the mass of Humans to become individuals again. "Please, I only meant to..." I break off when a pitchfork sails through the air. It falls about 20 feet short of me and actually comes closer to impaling one of the other men.

I chuckle at the inept toss.

"Silence creature!" The voice was louder than the others, a deep baritone. "Your kind is not wanted here! Do no evil!"

I was not easy to anger. The words mean little to me since I can do almost anything I want. I wait for the words to stop before interjecting. "I mean no harm to you or your people."

"Lies!"

"A Dragon never lies! Dragons are incapable of lies!" I have to calm myself. Acid rises in my throat. It would be bad if I lit my fire and burned these men. Anger has no place here. My throat cools. "I am hungry and need to feed. I did not realize the bovine creature was a pet."

Several voices begin to mutter, afraid of speaking out. One of the voices, hidden in the pack, shouts above the rest. "Get out of here before we kill you." There was hesitation in the words.

I almost laugh again. Dragons laughing are strange to behold, or so I have been told. The men shrink back from me. I sigh and snort. I turn my head away from these men. I do not want these men to see a Dragon’s tears. Dragons have emotions, but these men do not understand my loneliness. I have wished for my death more often than I can say.

I inhale and close my eyes. I speak once more. “I apologize for upsetting you, I will leave.” If only they really understood me, maybe they would not fear me.

“Die beast!” The voice was the same one that was hidden within the group. This time the single voice grew into a chant from several throats. “Die beast! Die beast!”

Three arrows and a pitchfork bounce off my outer plating and one arrow sticks through my wing. That one stings. I howl with pain and rise to stand on my back legs. The chant stops. When I drop to all four legs and turn towards the men, I see them running back the way they came. I can only imagine I must make a pretty scary silhouette for that reaction.

I touch the arrow and it hurts too much for me to pull out. I try to fold the wing against my body and it just drapes along the ground. I am stuck here on the ground, it would seem.

I walk away from the distant sounds from the town. I do not want to disturb more Humans.

I find a partially-covered outcropping at the base of a large hill. The side looks to have been torn apart by something very large. This vantage point allows me to curl up against the cool stone and watch the blossoming colors cross the sky. I drift into a half-sleep, coming awake at a clean, innocent scent. I hear a soft humming and giggling. It is coming close and I cannot leave without showing myself.

A young Human girl comes into view. She has yellow hair in ringlets and a sweet face. Her smile is wide and filled with something I have never seen. I think it must be joy. Oh how I wish I could feel her kind of joy. I rumble a sigh and cannot cover it up.

The petite girl turns her hopping step towards my hiding place. “Hello?”

I pitch my voice low and gentle. “I’m sorry. Please do not be afraid.”

“Why would I be scared? Who are you?”

“I am Morris. What is your name?”

“I am Donetta. I live in that house, way over there.” She points toward the meadow and beyond.

“It is nice to meet you Donetta. It has been a very long time since I’ve had a friend with whom I could speak.”

“I’ll be your friend. Here, this is a Tulip.” Donetta held out a flower, hopping forward.

It isn’t a Tulip. It’s an Evergold Blossom. I will not correct her, though. There is no need. I reach out my front claw to take the flower.

Donetta watches with wide eyes and a toothy smile. Her eyes seem to sparkle with wonderment. “You have great big fingernails, Morris.”

I chuckle, a true and joyful sound. “I do indeed. It helps me scratch my ears.” I show her how I scratch behind my ears with my back claw.

“Wow, I wish I could do that.” She lifts her leg and ducks her head, hopping around on one foot. She is not close to reaching her ear with her foot and ends up on the ground. “Oh, fiddle-sticks. I dropped my flowers.”

I reach out and carefully rake one into my fingernail, extending it to her. She reaches out without a flinch and takes the flower. After a moment she stands up and walks closer.

I draw back, not wanting to scare or hurt this girl. I sigh as she puts a small hand on my neck and rubs my scales.

Donetta’s giggling is infectious and I find myself giggling as well. She sings a little bit and says, “You are cold. I will warm you up.” She turns and flops on the ground, snuggling against me.

I feel all warm inside, but I know it’s not due to this little girl’s body heat. Is this what joy feels like? I wish I could feel this emotion all the time. I will remove the arrow and fly away too soon for my taste, but not right now. For now, I will experience true joy. Soon we are both snoring, asleep in the middle of a meadow without a care in the world.