Farewell, My Dragon

David's bedroom was a very big room, but you wouldn't know it if you could see George. George was David's dragon, and an awfully big dragon at that. No-one but David saw George. Even when David had been very little, George was always near. But as time passed, David grew bigger, and the more he grew bigger, the more George grew bigger.

Unfortunately, David was 11 now, and considered himself very not little at all anymore. But big as he was, George had gotten much, much bigger. Too big, in fact. From across the room, George's great, green tail wagged and slapped at his friend's face, while David hunched over a little desk in the corner, glaring at his homework.

"Play with me, David!" His dragon called out.
"No, George," said David, "I have sums to divide."

George slumped to the floor and shook the room in a sulk; huffing out a lick of blue flame for good measure.

"Uh oh," said the dragon, as fire spread up the bedding.
"Uh oh?" Echoed David, refusing to look.
"Uh huh. Uh oh."
"What have you d--" David turned, catching a whiff of smoke in mid-sentence. "You!" He snarled. "I didn't mean it." Cried George, with claw-covered eyes. "I didn't, I didn't."

It was then that an odd clattering came from under the bed.
"What ho!" A voice cried, as the clattering increased.
Accusations forgotten, the pair turned to the bed.


Ripping through the mattress, a gleaming silver sword tore into the fire. At once the flames began to dance and spin about the blade in a whirlwind of heat. Spinning closer, the fire hissed and fizzled against the cool steel until the last smoky wisp had vanished.

For a moment there was calm, but only a moment.
"And now," the voice began dramatically.
The clattering returned as a mailed fist forced its way through the ruined bed. That fist was followed by another, and a pair of armour-plated arms soon after. The arms clawed and pulled at the bed until out popped a shiny white helmet.

"Ah, that's better," said the knight. "Where was I? Ah yes! And now, foul beast, it's your turn."
"Who, me?" George asked meekly.
"You lad, get back." he urged to a still stunned David. "Prepare to die, dragon!" Blade drawn, the white knight hurled his body from the bed and charged towards George.

The dragon's scaly face twisted in horror at his attacker. Thinking fast, David threw open his bedroom window.
"Quick George!"
He didn't need telling twice. Narrowly dodging the swinging sword, George dived head first... and got himself stuck halfway.
Mocking laughter escaped the knight's helmet.
"Away with thee, lad. I expect quite a mess." Sword raised once more, he unleashed a killing blow.

"Enough!" David shouted, stopping the knight in mid-swing.
"Eh?" Asked the knight.
"You're not killing him."
"Oh? But I thought..."
"No," said David. And the knight sheathed his sword.
"Ah, very well, it is your imagination, I suppose."
Together, David and his dragon breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"I say, dragon?" Said the knight.
"Um, yes?" Echoed George through his rear.
"Wouldst thou care for a pint?" He swatted George across the bottom as he asked, and just like that the dragon flopped through the window and out into the garden.
"Well that's awfully nice of you." Said George, his face at the window.
"Not at all, it's the least I can do to make amends. Come, let's be off."
"How about we fly?" Said George, offering his neck.
"But..." Started David.
"Splendid!" And on he climbed.
With the knight on his back, George spread his wings and turned to David.
"Don't wait up, okay?" he said, before launching off into the sky and out of sight.
"But..." said David again, but it was too late. He looked back into his big, empty room and sighed. So big, he thought, as he went back to his sums. Too big, in fact.


Fraser Brown