“I am so tired of the meanness around me…tired of not being seen and treated as a real, loved, respected human being. Every judgement fired at me by people at school hurts like pieces of glass in my chest.
I cannot take the way some people - many people - value others only to the extent that they can be used for themselves, to feel better or seem better.
Disappointed. Sad. Fed up.
Why should I have to experience people making fun of me?
I don’t deserve it.”
Dennis tried to talk to the Dragons, but this was not a good day. He couldn’t feel or hear them today.
It was too early to go to bed too.
He wished he could look at the illustrations. He still couldn’t believe that mom had taken away his precious book.
He was even too sad to cry.
He dug out his drawing pad from a drawer and some aquarelle crayons. He would paint what he could still remember from the book.
Fins and scales, sharp claws and blazing fire. He painted Valva first. He loved her as much as he had loved their lab Silas, if not more. Blush, red, magenta…a rose hued tail and those warm eyes.
When he was finished, he painted the White Dragon and the bird. Silvery and soft, fierce. And this bird.
‘It is a bird of joy, it is a bird of joy’ He was humming as he painted life into the spiky Angel and the sparkling, feathered little blob.
There was something about these two. He painted another one… and another one.
White Dragon and bird laughing together on a beach, flying above dark pine woods, diving into burning lava.
His hands were covered in the sticky crayon flakes, he smeared with water and created shadows with a piece of cloth.
Eventually he fell asleep with all the drawings scattered all around, finally released from today’s sorrow.
And so it was that the seed of the love between Pheasant and Aidyl was watered by the tears of a young boy. It started to take root.
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