The Old Dragon

By Rochelle L. Sharpe

Belle’s steps slowed as she neared the grand house. Had her heart not already been racing from hurrying to make it in time, it surely would be now. Her stomach tightened. Too many years had passed. What if he had forgotten her?

She pulled her shawl closer, shielding herself from the frigid snowfall, and prayed this would not be a fool’s errand. With the late hour, he would most likely be asleep, but what she had to tell him, had to show him, could not wait.

Lifting her lantern, she ascended the stairs. The door opened at the first knock, but no one was there to greet her, so she slid inside. Unsure of where to go, she crept through the dark hall. As she entered the cavernous chamber at the end, her steps faltered, and she gasped. Void of furniture, it was covered in a mountain of coins, gold, and jewels.

Upon it lay a lone dragon, scales shining like copper. His eyes were closed and wisps of smoke spiraled from his nostrils, dancing in rhythm with his breathing.

As Belle wondered how to wake him, the dragon lifted his massive head. “Who dares to enter here?” His voice was lower and more menacing than it had been before, but undoubtedly his.

She steeled her shoulders, lifting her chin. “It is I, Ebenezer.”

The dragon heaved up and inched closer, his sharp talons clinking on the gold. He paused, extending his neck and sniffing the air.

“Bah!” he snapped. “You have no business here, go back to your husband.” He swung his terrible face away from her.

“My dear Frank passed away two winters ago.”

The dragon stilled. Silence stretched between them before he peered back at her. “Why have you come?”

She braved a step closer. “To plead with you. I have seen a vision.”

“One of your silly dreams?”

Ignoring the taunt, she went on. “You are in danger, Ebenezer. The villagers are upset and have been for quite some time. You have taken much from them.”

“It is not my fault if they borrow and cannot repay. I have only taken what I am owed.”

“You have changed so much,” she said, sighing heavily.

He chuckled, lifting a talon. “For the better.”

“I fear not. The people wish to slay you.”

“Let them try,” he growled.

“Where is the boy I knew… that I loved? I know he is still in there somewhere.”

“He was weak. I am strong.” He scooped up some treasure, letting it trickle through his talons. “I want for nothing.”

Belle gestured to the mound he sat upon. “Gold, jewels, all this treasure—it cannot smile with you, or hold you, or laugh with you. It cannot comfort you when you are in pain.”

“Bah!”

“’Tis Christmas Eve, Ebenezer. Share some of what you have with the villagers and change your fate,” she pleaded.

“Humbug! I am the master of my fate. No one can hurt me. No one can enter my treasure chamber if I do not allow it.”

“I entered.”

He looked away, grumbling something she didn’t quite catch.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be a fool’s errand after all. Belle placed the lantern on the floor and stepped forward, extending her hand. “Ebenezer,” she said softly.

He turned back to her, eyes downcast. She brushed her fingers against his scaled cheek. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so. “See. Remember.”

Trailing her fingers upwards, she pressed her palm into his forehead, pushing her memories into his mind. He gasped, his eyes widening before falling shut. First, she reminded him of their young love and how they used to laugh together. She shared her fear as he grew increasingly distant in his pursuit of wealth. Showed him their ending and how it broke her heart. Next, she pulled up his memories, seeing the long, lonely years that followed for him. Watched as the scales came one by one until he was no longer a man. Lastly, she showed him what was to become of him—the vision that had sent her racing to warn him. The men gathering with weapons in hand, the angry shouts of the leader spurring them on. Their descent upon his home. The terrible aftermath where too many would lose their lives, including him.

He jerked back, tears glistening in his eyes, shockingly human in the face of a beast. “It is too late for me.”

“No. We can change the future.”

His eyes met hers. “We?”

She nodded. “I will help you. But you must let go of the chains. Turn your heart toward charity.”

She glanced at the window as the first rays of dawn shone through it. They were running out of time; the villagers would soon be upon them.

“Will you do it, Ebenezer? Will you let go and embrace the Christmas spirit?”

Desperation turned to hope as Ebenezer gave a slow nod. “I will.”

Light exploded from his body, and Belle stumbled back as a tremor shook the chamber. Treasure cascaded down the pile in a deafening avalanche.

When all fell quiet, the dragon was no more. The man Belle had once loved stood in its place.

He stumbled from the mound, stopping before her. He took her worn hands in his. “I am sorry, Belle. Can you forgive me?”

“I did that long ago. Now…” She picked up a handful of treasure. “How about we go change some lives?”

Ebenezer inclined his head, letting her hands go. “I want to visit my clerk first. He has a son who is ill. I had not cared before, but now…”

Belle smiled. “That would be lovely.”

After they gathered up enough sacks of treasure to share with all, they placed them in a cart and climbed up front.

Ebenezer turned to Belle. “Merry Christmas, Belle.”

“Merry Christmas, Ebenezer.”

“God bless us, Every One.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rochelle L. Sharpe is a Christian writer from Australia. She writes stories set in fantastical worlds and this one. She is currently working on getting her YA fantasy novel published. She loves reading, dabbles in poetry, and sometimes remembers to venture outside. She would own a dragon if she could.

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