The Perils of Buying Online

By: Ben Bielert

Just a little preamble, this is a story I have been working on for a bit. I am releasing the first 6 chapters here just to get a sense of what others think of it and to add a bit of content to my site. Please feel free to read and comment. All the best, Ben.

Chapter 1, Guaranteed within the Fortnight       

The ad flashed across the page, letters in a great, swooping, gold, azure, and emerald script.

“Dragon’s eggs, all kinds, get them now!

Authentic Dragon’s Eggs, Exclusive Offer…

$29.99”

“Yah right.” I said aloud to my empty bedroom. I kept reading the article on Norse Mythology, the tale of Sigurd and Fafnir, while I sat in front of my practically prehistoric Dell, at my puny pine desk, tucked into the corner of my half-decent room, and scrolled.

A picture of the eggs rolled through the article this time.

They looked good. Brilliant colours danced along their surface like a hyperactive lava lamp.

Maybe they were just lava lamps, or something like them. They were some battery powered things, or perhaps a lamp you plugged in, and they only looked like a little, scaly egg.

Weren’t they? Even that would be cool.

More products came up as I scrolled, a tree of life, the article was good, but whoever ran the website obviously sold every square inch of advertising space they could. Swords, armour, runes, all sorts of wares flashed across the page, but I focused on the tale of Sigurd and Fafnir. When I got to the end, there they were once again, the same ad, repeated, but this time there were two more lines of text.

“Limited Time Offer,

Eggs Hatch within the fortnight.”

I scoffed. It’s not too often these days that you hear a good scoff, but that was a scoff for the ages. The eggs were decorations, novelties. The sort of thing you would put on your shelf and talk about when a nerdy friend noticed it. These were not real dragons’ eggs. The $29.99 price flashed and glimmered.

Thirty bucks was pretty cheap… what if?

No, that was crazy. That’s how they got you. Nobody could be mad at them if they didn’t hatch because, obviously, dragons weren’t real. It was too bad, but the world didn’t have any real magic in it. Imagination and illusion, those were the only forms of magic I had found in my 27 years.

So why couldn’t I leave the page? Why couldn’t I make myself click on home?

 C’mon, I couldn’t do it for the same reason you wouldn’t have. I stayed on that page and even considered it because it was just $30, and… what if?

It took me ten more minutes of humming and hawing, but I finally clicked on the ad. It took me less time to place my order than I had spent deliberating whether to do it. I picked out an egg that was blue, green, and purple, the colours swirling about on its surface. It would look good on my bookshelf at least.

When he reached the checkout, and entered his credit card and shipping info, but when I clicked accept, there was a Terms and Conditions box.

“Please Read and Agree to the Terms and Conditions.”

I closed this  and then clicked on the “Place Order” button. A little window popped up, “Please make sure you have read the terms and conditions.”

“Yah, yah.” I said, and I clicked okay. Then I opened up the terms and conditions and scrolled to the bottom of what looked to be about 50 pages of text. I clicked “Place Order” again, and this time it went to a loading screen with a cartoon graphic of an egg with violet and ruby stripes.

The egg sat, then shook twice, then a crack appeared in it. The crack spread and then the egg broke open. A smiling dragon of the same colours emerged, and a little speech bubble appeared over it.

“Your order has been placed.” He said, laughing.

Chapter 2, Can’t Be Serious

“You bought what?” Susan asked me.

“A dragon’s egg.” I admitted. “It looked cool and was only thirty bucks.”

Susan was my… well, she was my friend. We hadn’t slapped a label on what we were. We saw each other a few times a week, had fun together, but we had been elusive about whether we were dating or not. It was a couple days after I’d placed the order and she had stopped by for one of her regular visits.

“Darwin, please tell me you’re not serious.” Susan said, rolling over to look up at me.

Yes, my name is Darwin. My dad admired Charles Darwin and thought naming me Charles was too old fashioned. He thought Darwin was original and fresh, not considering at all how entirely pretentious it was.

Susan and I had been laying beside each other in my bed, looking up at the distant ceiling of my bedroom. The entire loft had vaulted ceilings because my building was once a warehouse.

“Dead serious.” I said, rolling my eyes. “I legitimately think I bought a dragon’s egg, Sue.”

Traffic hummed along outside my window.

“Well, okay, even you aren’t that naïve.” She grinned.

I folded my arms across my chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dar, it’s me. I know your love for fantasy, your absolute obsession with mythology. You have a pretty extensive collection of Dungeons and Dragons miniatures.” She said, rattling a box containing a plethora of the little figurines that sat on my desk beside the bed.

“Hey, I’m a man of science, I have a degree in Ecology.” I countered.

“Right, but you have that because you love nature and wanted a job where you could be outside all the time. You’re a little boy and a dreamer at heart.” She said, reaching up and rumpling my hair.

Damn.

“I know this thing is just another nerdy decoration,” I said, “like my replica of Sting or my Marauder’s Map.”

“I should hope so.” She said, laughing. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if you were actually hoping it was real.”

I chuckled, couldn’t stop myself from grinning guiltily, and kissed her so that she would stop talking.

Chapter 3, Or Die Trying

The egg arrived three days later, in a little crate made of a dark wood that looked like it had come from a medieval European market. There were carvings of dragons and people all along the outside of the box. The images were of dragons flying and intertwining with people swinging their arms in ecstatic dance. The top of the box was hinged at one side and had a clasp at the other. The clasp had a length of rope tied into the gnarliest knot I had ever seen to keep it closed.

I never saw a delivery person, there was a light rapping at my door, and then when I answered, there was the box, waiting in the hallway of my apartment. I looked down the hall, and there was no sign of anyone, not a closing of a door nor the sound of feet scurrying away around the corner. My apartment was in the middle of a long length of hall which connected the other lofts the warehouse had been divided into. I had answered my door in no more than ten seconds after the knock had come. There was no one in the hall, no signs of life whatsoever. With every hair on my arms and the back of my neck standing at attention, I bent down and scooped up the box.

There was no return address, simply:

“Acolyte Dragon Keeper Darwin Keats

116-992 Cloverdale Ave.

Victoria, BC, Canada

V8Y 1T3”

Thinking of Charles Darwin riding along on the S.S. Beagle from island to island, seeing life and tracing its movements as best he could, had led me to want to be a biologist myself. I had studied and worked in the field for the last 7 years.

That’s how I knew that dragons were impossible; I had looked for them. Both out in the field, and in all the records kept from the work of others. Nobody had ever catalogued a dragon, not a true dragon. Sure, Komodo dragons, but those didn’t even have wings. There wasn’t even what would be counted as a wyvern, the closest thing were the pterosaurs, long extinct. A real dragon though? Four legs and a set of wings?

There was nothing like that.

One could make an argument for the Draco genus of the South Pacific, but they were gliders, not fliers.

Even if you did count the Draco genus and their specialized rib, they were still a far cry from the gigantic fire breathers that flew with true wings and had four limbs, those were just things of myth. They didn’t exist, had never existed. There was no precursor to them anywhere in the fossil record on Earth.

They were possible. A Hox mutation and you could get another set of limbs, but then those would evolve for years and years before they could form wings There were no reptilian chordates with six limbs, the Draco genus had a specialized rib. There were no true six limbed chordates, let alone one with six limbs and two of them being specialized to even resemble wings. There were no dragons and no dragon antecedents.

That’s what I had learnt, that’s what I had seen, that’s what I believed. Even still, that little voice inside, but what if? What if you’re wrong?

Being named after one of the most integral figures in the life sciences made me always try to aspire to be a little smarter and more logical. I certainly wasn’t feeling entirely rational. I doubt my namesake would have fallen for such nonsense; he would have known better. Heck, I knew better too. So why did I have butterflies in my stomach?

I brought the box into my apartment, closed the door, and plunked it down on my dining room table.  I got a knife to cut the rope, the knot looked like it would take hours to untie, and I wasn’t messing around with that. I sawed through the fibers for a few minutes, and finally the tattered cord lay on the ground. I opened the clasp and threw back the hinged lid. There, resting in a sky-coloured blanket, nestled down within the box, only the top showing and shifting just as it had done in video online, was the egg, or whatever it was. Egg or not, it was beautiful. 

I reached out and ran a finger over the scaled surface. It was warm to the touch. I took an edge of the blanket and rubbed my thumb and forefinger on it. It was easily the softest material I had ever felt. My mind began to race, and I did my best to try to clear my head of that internal nattering.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, filling my lungs as completely as I could. When I opened my eyes again, there it was, still on the table, poking out from the supple folds of the blanket. It really was beautiful.

If this was a decoration, I’d gotten my money’s worth. The box alone looked worth the $29.99. The blanket was beautiful too, thick and soft, it had amazing hand-stitch and the colour seemed to dance in the light as I grabbed a corner and moved it a little. For a moment I reached down, running my hand under the egg. I felt the weight of the egg, without lifting it from its resting place. I felt the warmth of it. There was a gentle pulse, a heartbeat?

“What is this?” I asked aloud. My phone pinged and I startled, squeezing the egg involuntarily but I found it as solid as stone. I withdrew my hand and looked at my phone, I had received an email. It wasn’t the usual stream of junk, this was from the domain of the website that sold me the egg, an email with the subject, “Hatching Your New Egg”.

“To Mr. Darwin Keats,

Congratulations on your purchase of an authentic dragon egg, and your acceptance of your new responsibility. You are now an Acolyte Dragon Keeper, 3^rd Class, meaning that you are the lowest ranked guardian of a young draconian ward.

The first task that you must concern yourself with is hatching your little charge. This egg has come to you near the point of hatching, but in these final days there are some crucial things that you must do to ensure everything goes as smoothly as it must.

First and foremost, do not, under any circumstances, remove the egg from the crate it came in. Leave it enshrouded within the blanket.

Do not artificially heat or cool the egg. Do not put an incubation lamp or any other heat source on the egg. Do not turn any fans or air conditioners on near the egg.
Once again: do not heat or cool the egg by artificial means.

Leave the egg near an open window, so that it can get as direct of sunlight as possible. Naturally occurring breezes are also good for its health and development.

Do not leave the egg in the light of a full moon or an eclipse of any kind. Moonlight during any other phase is fine, as is sunlight.

Finally, dragons love music, and so you must sing to your egg twice every day until it hatches. The song is completely up to you, but we suggest something energetic in the morning and mellow in the evening. Choose from your favourites and really put your soul into it. You don’t have to be the best singer, but you must connect with the song and your little ward.

The egg should not be dropped, thrown, knocked, banged, struck, burned, submerged, or otherwise molested.

Failure to comply with these rules will be met with severe repercussion from the High Council of Drakon as outlined in the Terms and Conditions.

Follow these simple rules, and in a short couple of weeks you should have a young wyrmling in your care.

At that time, we will provide further instruction.

We have the utmost faith that you will succeed in your task or die trying. Not everyone has what it takes to raise a young dragon, and we commend your bravery in undertaking this momentous endeavour.

All the best to you,

Nigel Kingsley, Master Dragon Keeper, 3^rd Class”

I must have re-read that email four times right then, and about twenty more over the next two weeks. Die trying? They were greatly overestimating my commitment to the task at hand. After I was done reading the email for the fourth time, I put down my phone with trembling hands. I looked at the egg, colours still swirling, and I shook my head.

This wasn’t happening, it was a joke. It had to be someone’s weird idea of a joke.

What had I agreed to exactly when I had clicked “Accept” on those terms and conditions? I resolved to read that over immediately.

I put the box on my desk beside the window and pulled up my blinds Weak natural light came through the grimy glass. I felt myself suddenly impelled to fetch the windex from under my kitchen sink and a clean dish towel and cleaned the window.

I cracked the window a little, but not too much because it was an old building and there was no screen. There was always urban wildlife about, seagulls and crows often perched on the roof and balcony handrails, squirrels and raccoons lived in the three Gary Oaks on the lot. I was sure it was against the rules to have the egg carried off by a trash panda or a murder of opportunistic corvids.

I needed to check the rules, and I whipped out my cell to have a look. That’s when a strange thing happened. I went to the website, but it had completely changed. Before it was like a dark cave, and when I had clicked on the cave it led me to what looked like a cavern lined with straw and with many eggs resting within the straw. Now, the website homepage looked like a storefront. I clicked all around that page, tried to find some link back to the cave, some link to the terms and conditions. But there was nothing, only the door of the shop did anything.

There was the sound of footsteps, and the screen changed to the shop interior. There, standing behind a counter was a tall man with black hair and an Amish-style beard that was flecked with grey. He had muscular arms and his hands rested flat on the counter. He had a speech bubble over his head.

“Care to buy some supplies to raise your dragon?”

Chapter 4, Never Grow Up

“You are so bad with your money!” Susan laughed at me.

We were in the main room of my loft; she was in the dining nook and I still in the entertainment corner. We were hanging out, watching a show, and she’d gotten up to go grab a glass of water from the kitchen. The wooden crate full of items must have caught her eye.

“No, I’m not.” I replied, leaping off of the couch and running up to the table, trying to whisk the evidence out of sight.

I had bought a few things, so what?

She was too quick, scooping up the Dragon Handler’s Complete Compendium and laughing. “What is this?”

“Now, th-that,” I said, stammering a bit, “that is a cool book.” And it was. Bound in supple brown leather, the pages smelled like combination of cinnamon and an old bookstore, and they were thick, yellow paper. All the script was done in a brilliant emerald ink and an elegant, looping cursive. There were illustrations within that were so skillfully done they could have been confused for photographs were they not illustrated in that same ink and thus only two-tone in varying shades. This made the art even more impressive to me.

Susan thumbed through the book, raising her eyebrows and letting out a low whistle. “This really is quite the book.”

“I told you.” I said,

“How much did you say you paid for this?” She asked, smirking that slightly crooked smile of hers and looking at me from the corner of her eye.

“The low price of $39.99.” I said.

She laughed. “Honestly, I’m a little jealous.”

“And it has all sorts of good information in it, listen to this:

“‘Dragons have similar reproductive structures to those of snakes, having cloaca in both males and females and inverted penile structures for males. Unlike snakes, cloacal probing is not necessary to determine which sex your dragon is, in fact such an activity would be very risky and likely to result in injury (to you, not your dragon).

“‘Rather than risking life and limb, one only must look at the central forehead scales of a young dragon. If there is a large circular scale, your dragon is male. If there are three overlapping triangular scales, your dragon is female.’”

There was a picture of two little dragons, side-by-side on the page. One had sharper features and a more menacing appearance; a more pointed nose, spikes at the shoulders and crook of the front back legs, and three overlapping, triangular scales. The other was slightly softer, slightly rounder, and had a more inviting and kindly looking face and one, large forehead scale that was round.

“That is good information.” She said in a mocking tone. “When your little dragon pops out of this chunk of ceramic, you will really be able to use that.”

“Well, even if it’s all malarkey, you learnt something about snake reproduction, didn’t you?” I asked, chuckling.

“Okay, maybe a little bit, but I doubt it has anything that’s actually useful in there.”

“Not so,” I replied, thumbing to a section entitled: ‘Labour of Love, The Easiest way to Perform the Manual Labour Required for your Dragon’.

“Okay, how about this one: ‘As your dragon grows, in addition to needing constant sustenance it will come to have another need, an overwhelming hunger that must be satisfied lest your ward will become violent and angry. The dragon will need wealth, of the material kind. Namely, jewels and gold. One way to satisfy this desire is to prospect for gold yourself.’”

Susan raised an eyebrow.

“‘Panning for gold can be lucrative and effective as a way of acquiring a small horde for your dragon. Inside bends of a river where water slows is the best-known place to find gold deposits. Paystreaks can be found here as well as behind boulders, logjams, under waterfalls, or anywhere that the velocity of water slows.

“‘You will have one additional advantage on ordinary prospectors, in that…’” I turned the page and then before reading again I cleared my throat and closed the book leaving my finger in to hold the page, “and then it just kind of goes on for a little while.” I said. “But isn’t that some useful information for just about anyone?”

“What does it say after that?”

“Just some additional gold panning tips, goes on for a while.”

“Darwin, what does it say?” She said, taking a step closer to me and giving a reach for the book.

I pulled it away from her. “More about gold-panning, I told you.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re not going to show me?”

“You’d just tease me more.” I said.

“Probably, but that’s what I do.” She said, grinning. “Let me see.”

“Fine,” I said, and I plunked the book down on the table. There was a full page after describing how to cast a spell so that gold would glow to the caster’s eye. There were elaborate illustrations and symbols a full magical circle drawn and three symbols within. According to the directions the caster was to “Draw your circle and these symbols on the ground. This is best done by carving them into whatever surface you are on. If this proves to be too difficult, or if time is short, instead draw it in salt. If no salt is readily available, white sand can suffice.”

Susan scanned the page, and then looked over at me. “This is bananas.” She said.

“It’s just for fun, Sue. It’s like a D&D book. Not serious.”

“It’s like those -ology books, Wizardology and Egyptology.” She said, forcing a little laugh.

“Um, this is a lot better than those books.” I said. “But yah, basically, written like it’s real, but clearly just a whole lot of nonsense.” But I wasn’t so sure that was actually the case either.

She walked over to the little swirling egg, the colours passing over its surface like a kaleidoscope. She placed her hand on it. I set the book down, perhaps too quickly, too urgently. “It’s warm.” She said, smiling. She shook her head and murmured, “batteries.”

“Don’t pick it up.” I warned.

She looked at me. “Why not?”

I quickly explained the rules that had been sent in the email I’d received and how the egg was supposed to remain nestled within the hatching blanket.

“But none of that is real, Dar.” She said, wrapping her fingers around it. “Please tell me you don’t actually sing to that egg like a looney person.”

I could feel the colour rising in my cheeks. “Here Comes the Sun in the mornings, and Baby Mine in the evenings.”

“Baby mine? Like the lullaby from Dumbo?”

“That’s right.” I said. I was doing everything in my power to avoid her eyes, lest my face actually light on fire.

She laughed and let out a little, ‘whooo’, then spoke, “I mean, this isn’t an egg, it’s some sort of device, a little light or something.”

I spoke calmly and evenly. “The rules were very simple, and they were emphatic about not picking it up. There’s no reason not to listen, it’s just two weeks. Let’s just wait and see. If it’s all nonsense, no harm no foul, but…”

“But what? If it’s true then you’ll have a dragon? Please tell me you’re not that unhinged. The reason to do it is so you don’t seem like you believe in this hogwash. Are you actually buying into this?” She asked, incredulous. Her one hand remained on the egg, but the other had moved prominently to her hip.

“I’m reserving judgement. From what I’ve seen even so far, this is weird. There’s things I can’t explain. For now, there’s enough reason to believe that this thing is alive, what it is exactly, time will tell. If these are the directions for hatching it properly, well, I’m going to follow them. I clicked on ‘Agree to Terms and Conditions’, Sue, and I didn’t read it all.” I shook my fist at the air in mock regret, “I didn’t read them! Who knows what I agreed to?”

She shook her head and reached in with her other hand, running her fingers along the surface of the egg. “You’re ridiculous. There’s no such thing as dragons.”

“Well, maybe it’s some other sort of real egg, a lizard or a bird.”

“Goddamit, Dar. Do you really think this is a parakeet or something? It’s not an egg of any type. You ever see an egg with dancing lights across its surface? Ever see an egg that’s surface looks like blue and violet lava, moving and shimmering like some mystic jewel?”

“Well, you’re right.” I conceded, running my fingers through my hair and shaking my head. “I’ve never seen any egg like that, which kinda points to it being what the claim has been so far.”

“It’s a toy, a trinket, some decoration. There’s nothing inside.” She screeched.

I exhaled sharply. “It’s warm.”

“So? It could have batteries.”

“That light its surface and warm it for days on end?” I countered. “Those must be some ridiculously good batteries.”

She thought for a moment, and I could see she was contemplating picking up the egg.

“Whether its real or not, I’ve asked you not to pick it up. That alone should be enough. Don’t do it.” I warned

“I want you to see how stupid you’re being.” She said and I could see her arm tense.

I frowned. “All I’m seeing is how disrespectful you’re being.”

She glared at me and withdrew her hand. “You know what? I think I’ve wasted enough of my life with a man-child. Have fun with your book and your little egg. Enjoy playing pretend, Darwin.”

“Sue, c’mon…” I said, but she pushed past me. I followed her; she was already putting her shoes on.

“I can’t wait for you to realize how stupid this all is.” She huffed, fighting with one of her laces.

“Why does it matter so much?” I asked.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Because you’re always looking for some lark, some thing to make life all magical and wonderful. Life is what life is Darwin, and it doesn’t have things like this in it. It’s still pretty great, though, at times. And sometimes it’s shitty, and that’s just how it is. But you gotta be able to cope with it, the limitations of its good, and the bad stuff too.”

“And never dream? Just accept it as it is. I guess if you are willing to never hope. Sure, that works.” I said.

She glowered at me and stopped trying to tie her shoes, she just jammed her feet into them and threw open the door, turning to me and growling, “Get bent, Darwin.”

She went to walk out.

I grabbed her arm. “Susan, wait, why are you so mad?”

“Are you ever going to get serious?” She asked, looking around at my apartment, filled with memorabilia and merchandise from many major nerd fandoms of the last five decades.

“I’m serious all the time, when I have to be, but I hope I never kill off the small part of me that still believes in the fantastic. I hope that in my quest to live in this world as it is, that I don’t allow the part that believes in possibility, in magic and miracles, to atrophy and die.”

“Then you’ll never grow up.”

“Oh, I’ve been grown up for a while,” I said, “but I hope that I never grow old and bitter.”

She pulled away from me. “Don’t call me.” She said, and she slammed the door.

In retrospect, I realized that she was probably talking about more than just my whimsical nature and my desire to believe. I realized that when she asked me if I was ever going to get serious, that she was wondering if we were ever going to get serious. When I said I didn’t want to grow old and bitter, she took that as me saying that she would make me old and bitter. But, when she left, I was like so many men who had gone before me: confused and with no idea what the hell I had done wrong.

Chapter 5, Take a Risk and Believe

“Monstra mihi pecuniam!” I yelled. I was standing in the center of the circle, the book open in front of me, and the symbols traced out on the ground in salt. I had gone through an entire box of salt, but I had managed to get it how it said in the book.

If Susan could see me then, she would have undoubtedly thought I was nuts, but I just had to know. I had devised that rather than wait the full two weeks, this was the quickest way to find out if all of this was just baloney. One might call it an experiment of sorts. If the spell worked, there was no saying for certain that a dragon would hatch out of that egg, but it made it seem at least possible. On the other hand, if the spell didn’t work, it stood to reason that there likely wasn’t a dragon in the egg either. I waited for a minute, there was no flash no bang, no lights no nothing. I shook my head.

I cleared my throat and said calmly, pronouncing each syllable carefully. “Mon-stra mi-hi pe-cu-ni-am.”

Nothing happened. Shit.

Everything was quiet, the candles that I had lit about the room burned steadily, their flame didn’t even waver. There was no flash, no bang, no floating lights. No magic. I was just some jerk sitting in the middle of a mess of salt on his floor and holding a leatherbound book. I raked my fingers through my hair and let out an exasperated sigh.

I cursed, closed my circle and then the book, and set the latter on my dining table. I swept the salt all into a dustpan and threw it out. What was I thinking? Like that spell would really work. Magic wasn’t real, I knew that. I was a man of science. My face reddened and I was glad none of my colleagues knew about the lark I had just allowed myself to engage in. I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d expected. I guess it was for there to be something, anything, to accompany my spell.

When I was done cleaning up, I went back into my room and flopped down on my bed, the springs creaked, and I placed my arm over my face.

I groaned aloud and shook my head, looking over at the little egg. The little, whatever it was.

Then, it began to happen. I saw the smallest hint of a shimmering light. It seemed to almost shine from within my desk and I rubbed my eyes. Something was glowing from within the drawer of my desk. I opened the drawer and there was my grandfather’s watch.

The watch had belonged to my grandfather, he had got it in 1955, when he was just a young man and working in a logging camp. He had come from back east, Manitoba, where his parents owned a farm, but he had heard there was good money to be made in forestry on the west coast. So, he’d packed a suitcase and caught a train. For two years he’d worked, saving and toiling, until he had enough money to put a down payment on a house.

He met my grandma a few months later, and they were married shortly after that.

Grandma’s family was well-off, and her father didn’t think my grandfather was good enough for her. So, he’d bought the watch and a fine suit to try court my grandmother. My great-grandfather still wasn’t impressed, but my grandmother was. They’d married within a month, and eventually my great-grandfather had come to accept it.

My grandpa always called it his lucky golden pocket watch because it had helped him win the love of his life.  He carried it with him everywhere until the day he died. I had always loved that watch, and asked grandad to see it. I’d learnt to tell time on that watch, wanting to decipher its secrets long before they made any sense to my young mind. I knew how to tell time from four years old thanks to that watch.

I couldn’t believe it when he willed it to me.

I kept it safe in my drawer almost always, afraid I might lose it.

Now, holding it by its chain as it spun round, it glimmered like never before, a shining beacon. I could see it even when I put it back in the drawer, make out the outline like it were a shape under water. I looked around me and realized I could see similar things, little glimmers through the walls of my loft. I didn’t own much gold, had just unloaded the last of my bullion the week before, so there was not much to see in my apartment. But I could make out the faint glimmers of some of the nearest gold belonging to my neighbours. It certainly grew dimmer with distance, but I could see the faintest glimmering outlining where some of their treasures lay. I looked toward the street and saw little points of light like distant stars and when I peered out the window, I saw people where these glimmers were.

Their jewelry was glowing, I realized.

Two of the little glimmers were the earrings of a lady who was walking along the sidewalk just outside my building, another was the wristwatch of a man in a nearby car, and there was another little glimmer on his wedding band.

I took a deep breath and sat on my bed, head swimming.

It had worked.

That was the day I learnt magic was real.

I learnt another valuable lesson about magic that day: it isn’t flashy like you might think. It’s not all explosions and lights and impressive feats. Some magic, and the majority of the magic in this world, is subtle and silent, it’s interwoven so unassumingly that most people don’t even realize it’s there.

I looked over at the egg and smiled. How many people would overlook the miracles in front of them, rather than take a risk and believe?

Chapte 6, Where does a Dragon Sleep?

The egg jiggled and jumped as the creature within fought to break free.

When I had gotten home from work, the egg was undeniably in the process of hatching. Jolting and jiving this way and that, the odd scraping noise or bump punctuating these efforts, I knew that whatever was in the egg, dragon or not, it would soon be out.

For the last few days, the little egg had given the odd tremor or shake, and I had feared that maybe it would hatch when I was at work.  Those early rumblings were subdued compared to the current commotion and now, I was thankful and certain that I was going to be present to see its emergence. Two weeks of curiosity gnawed at me as I watched and dared to dream that the egg was what it was said to be.  

The first crack was small, but it spread across the egg from its top to its center. At the center it began to spread around the middle of the egg, stopping just short of connecting with itself.  Then it spiderwebbed, little offshoots of cracks breaking off the initial one. With a shattering and chipping away of shell, the creature within began to break free.

Legs burst forth first, and were scaled, reptilian without a doubt. The scales were green and blue in varying and blended hues, similar to the egg itself. The colours on the egg had swirled across its surface, and the scales of the hatchling did the same thing.

I had thought the egg was maybe a light, an electronic of some sort when I had thought someone somewhere was having a laugh. I no longer thought it was all a lark, and even less now that the creature within was hatching before me, but I hadn’t expected its skin to be able to shift and change too.  Perhaps these scales had some sort of chromatophores that allowed a rapid change in colouration. My rational mind was clawing to the familiar and categorized for comfort.

At the end of each limb, the digits were clawed but grasped at the air, clenching into little fists. Although clawed and scaled, the termination of each appendage was undeniably more of a hand than a paw or foot.

Pieces of shell went flying this way and that as the egg broke entirely asunder. I found myself glad that it was within its box. Now that I could see what had come out, I was struck by the idea that I certainly wanted to hold on to every fragment of shell that I could collect.

I stared, flabbergasted, at what had hatched.

This was no snake; this was a reptile but no lizard. This was certainly not a parakeet or a peacock.

This was undeniably, irrefutably, a baby dragon. Not a Komodo dragon, not even a wyvern, this was a bona fide dragon. A reptilian hexapod sat before me.

It fit in nowhere that I could place precisely on the tree of life, all I could think was this species must be some sort of offshoot of the dinosaurs. It had six limbs, undoubtedly, but was clearly a chordate, a reptile. Scaled from its head to its toes and the tip of its tail. It also had some spikes and claws, but no feathers or hair anywhere. It was similar to a saurian but unlike any ever recorded.

It had webbed wings, but they were divided into sections with phalangeal projections, like a bat’s wing. These stuck out of its back. It had a set of forelimbs and hindlimbs as well. Its neck was fairly long for its body size giving it the ability to move its head quite easily.

It looked like a dragon to me.

How was this bloody possible?

Its head was the size of a ping pong ball. It was covered in scales that were a rich green, deep as the colour of an oak leaf. I realized that the green was shifting, just like the scales had changed hue on her body, there were waves that rolled across her as blue, other points flashed and twinkled aqua. When blue, the scales shone like sapphires, bright as a bird of paradise. The points of two tiny budding horns adorned its forehead. Below the horns was a point where several rows of scales seemed to converge, coming from multiple directions. At the center of this convergence were three, overlapping triangular scales.

My dragon was a girl.

Her tongue was red as fire, and it darted out from her mouth every now and again. She had four legs, each with a similar clawed hand to the one I’d seen earlier, each seemed dextrous enough to grasp whatever she found herself standing on. At current, it was the blanket within the box, but she was quickly scaling the edge and perching upon it. Two wings with paper thin membranes protruded from either shoulder, and a row of spikes started from between her horns and ran the length of her body, all the way to the tip of her pointed tail.

Her eyes were a brilliant lime green, with a slit of black, and she turned this way and that, gazing at me with them.

I shook my head, rubbed my eyes, but the mirage in front of me did not change.

“Hello,” I said, “hi little miss, can you understand me?”

She cocked her head to the side and listened, then in a few seconds nodded slowly.

“Wow.” I said. “This can’t be happening. I’ve had a mental breakdown and I am experiencing a vivid hallucination right now.”

She cocked her head for a moment, then furrowed her brow and hissed. She shook her head violently and darted towards me baring her teeth.

“Whoa!” I said, trying not to smile because although she was surprisingly fierce, she was still undeniably adorable. This little dragon was the size of a newborn kitten, at best, you would have thought she was cute, too. Somehow, I knew instantly what she was mad at, she was disagreeing with me. “Okay, easy, now, easy. I’m not hallucinating I guess. This is real.”

She nodded and showed her teeth in a new way. Was that… a smile?

“What the heck am I supposed to do with you now?” I asked. She craned her head towards me and flicked her tongue out slowly. She was licking her lips. “Are you hungry?” I asked.

A nod, and her eyes glimmered. She clicked her teeth together.

“Okay.” I said, “Come on then.” I began to walk toward the kitchen but stopped. The dragon was making a high-pitched shriek. I turned around, she was at the edge of my desk, stepping quickly, stamping her tiny front feet. Her minuscule claws were clicking against the lacquered wood.

She was a few feet off the ground, which was far for her, but she had wings. As if in answer, she gave her wings a little flap and then shook her head. Of course, I realized. She couldn’t fly yet.

“Alright, c’mon.” I said, and I held out my hand. She stepped gingerly into my palm. I could feel how dangerously sharp those claws were already, but she didn’t cut me. She laid down and fit perfectly in the palm of my hand. That was how small she was, so small that she could curl her legs and tail underneath her, fold her wings against her body, and fit comfortably within the palm of one of my hands. I could feel how warm her body was, it felt like holding a little roll fresh out of the oven, almost too hot. Even still, I brought my other hand up so that she was cradled between them. I was nervous I might drop her. I carefully cradled her there and walked to my kitchen.

I was glad that I was home alone. Ever since Susan and I had had that fight I hadn’t heard from her. Good riddance if she was going to act that way.

Who was I kidding? I missed her terribly and had almost called her a few times. I’d written more apology texts and deleted them than I could count. What I was apologizing for, I wasn’t sure, but I was ready to if she’d accept it.

Maybe it was just as well, I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to hide a dragon, even one so small as this, if she came over. Did I want her to know? Of course I did, it would prove me right. More importantly, was I even allowed to tell anyone? Maybe I could write an email to Nigel Kinglsey and see. But what if I got in trouble for not properly reading the Terms and Conditions?

I kicked myself again for not reading what was essentially a contract. What happened happened, for the moment I had to focus on the task at hand. In the kitchen. I set the dragon on the counter.

“What do I feed you?” I asked.

She bit the air twice and gulped.

“Okay, meat probably, right?”

She made a sort of satisfied chirp and nodded.

I went to the cupboard and pulled out a tin of tuna. “How do you like fish?” I asked.

She hissed and looked instantly mean, baring her teeth again.

“Okay, okay,” I said, “no fish. I get it. Maybe some chicken?”

She nodded. I fetched the leftovers from the previous night. Barbecue chicken.

I didn’t have a barbecue or anywhere to put one for that matter, so when I made it, I would just bake it in the oven and drown it in sauce. There were a few thighs left from the night before and I took them and cut them up. I offered some of the small pieces to the dragon and she turned up her nose to most.

“You said you wanted chicken.” I said in frustration. She snarled back. I offered another piece, this one from closer to the bone. She sniffed at the chicken and then took it.

“Do you not like the sauce?” I asked.

I had a cat once who would beg for chicken but wouldn’t eat anything spiced or sauced either.

The dragon eyed me and chewed the piece of chicken. I looked at the thighs, slathered in sauce. I went back in the fridge and fished out a plain chicken breast I’d prepared for my lunch the next day.

I cut off a corner and ripped it into strips and gave one to the little beasty. She took it eagerly.

“You like that more, hey?” I asked. She snapped at the air; she was smiling in that way again. “Okay, okay, here have some more.” The next strip she took so eagerly that her needle-like teeth sank into the flesh of my index finger. “Yeowch!” I yelled, drawing my finger back, she withdrew too, folding her wings against her body and giving a little hiss.

 I put my finger in my mouth instinctively.

I took it out of my mouth and looked at it, and there were three perfect little holes in it, two right under the nail, and one on the bottom side right in the pad of the finger. Three little beads of blood formed quickly, and I put the finger back in my mouth for a second. I went into the bathroom and grabbed some toilet paper off the roll. I took that piece and wrapped it around the tiny wounds.

When I came back in the room, she was still on the counter, but she was preparing to pounce at the cork from a wine bottle. She wiggled her hindquarters a little, legs tensed. She cocked her head to the side, and stood up straight, spinning around to look at me. I must have made too much noise. Funny, I thought I’d been quiet.

“Srrrakk.” She trilled.

“Don’t do that again.” I said.

She shifted and let out a little whining noise.

“I know you didn’t do that on purpose, but just try to be more careful, okay?”

She nodded, “Yaaee.”

I wondered if I was really communicating with the baby dragon. It had just been born, was that possible? I reminded myself that this was a dragon and that maybe I wasn’t the best judge of what was and wasn’t possible anymore.

I fed her more strips of chicken breast, cutting off pieces as she still seemed eager for more, until she had eaten half of it. Eventually, she shook her head when I offered her a piece and wouldn’t take any more. She let out a little belch, and of course this made me smile. She yawned and blinked her eyes slowly.

“Are you tired?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” I said, “let’s go back to the room.”

I took her back to the room and set her on my bed, I gingerly took her blanket out of the box and shook the pieces of egg off it. Then, I took the box and shook the contents out into a small glass candleholder that was now empty and clean, but soon full of shards of eggshell. I fluffed her blanket and set it back in the box.

I turned, and she had already curled up on my pillow and was fast asleep, smoke curling out of her nostrils.

“C’mon, I got your bed ready.” I said.

She opened one eye at me, snorted a little more smoke out of the nostril on the same side, and then closed it and went back to sleep. She snored incredibly loudly for her small size.

I thought about moving her, but my finger throbbed painfully, and I thought better of it. I shrugged and just left her to sleep.

Where does a dragon sleep?

Wherever it wants.