Marjorie bought the wooden dragon at a flea market. Her son, Avery had been plagued with nightmares and he occasionally sleepwalked. As she tucked in the 8-year old, Avery gazed at the dragon with trepidation, “Aren’t dragons monsters?” he said.
“Not all,” said Marjorie. “Some are powerful magicians who protect children, like this one.”
The next morning, Avery wasn’t in his bed. Marjorie couldn’t find him in the yard. Near panic, she got in the car and began driving. She found him quickly, calmly waiting for her in a muddy field.
“It was awesome!” said Avery. “These monsters came. They wanted to take me away and replace me with a…a jingaling.”
“You mean a changeling?”
“Yeah, that’s it!”
Marjorie couldn’t recall teaching Avery about changelings.
“You were right about the dragon. He protected me. He grabbed me before the monsters got me and flew me away where it was safe.”
Marjorie smirked. “You sure you weren’t sleepwalking?”
Exhaustion soon overcame Avery’s excitement. Marjorie changed his muddy clothes and tucked him in. The dragon was still there by his bed. She paused to glare accusingly at it.
What she saw chilled her spine.
The dragon had muddy feet.
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction: https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/02/19/sunday-photo-fiction-february-19th-2017/