Where Dragons Lurk
Cyn Bagley (c) 2013
Published in Smoke & Mirrors by Cyn Bagley
Bo rocked his hand-made rocking chair on the porch of his fishing cabin in the middle of the swamp. He came here every summer to fish and relax. The sounds of the water, birds, snakes and lizards calmed him down from a year of working. This was the time to get back to his roots. He spat tobacco on the porch and watched the bugs scurry away.
He reached over, picked up a lighter, and squeezed it. The spark from the lighter caught the newspaper in his hand. He threw it on the BBQ grill.
It was dark under the trees. It was hard to keep cool when the humidity was this high. His wife-beater was covered in dirt and sweat. When he came home from one of these excursions, his wife make him hose off before coming into her house.
“You smell like a skunk,” she would say and make him take another shower. He liked having this time away from her.
Once the grill began to smoke, he put the lid over the top and listened to the chatter in the trees. He pulled out a cigar, sliced the end, and reached for another lighter. He puffed for a moment and threw the light on a growing pile at the end of his porch. Once the pile got big enough he would push the dead meat into the swamp for the critters.
Bo kept his secrets. His biggest secret was the nesting places of dragons. No, not the huge intelligent dragons of legend. These were about the size of a cigarette lighter and less useful.
He reached into his supplies and pulled out a dragon about three to four inches, then he gave it a big squeeze. Fire burst out of its mouth and then the little eyes went stony. It quit breathing. He threw it on the pile.
Too bad he couldn’t market the little things. They were one use only and it took a lot of feeding to get to that one burst of fire.
Bo went back to grilling his steak. He would need to go look for another nest of dragons so he could grill tomorrow.