Timothy's Farewell

Timothy always wore large, awkward glasses that balanced awkwardly on his petite nose, and the greasy bangs of his awkward hair covered his awkwardly droopy eyes – testaments to the sufferings he had endured. He was not an average student – he had standards, standards that he stuck to deeply. In his tiny chest beat an indomitable heart of commitment, and he loved school. No, it was something quite different – he led a diligent, devoted life, reading papers, typing papers, doing papers, and turning in papers. And testing was altogether a different matter. He never employed the same style of test taking every time he faced an exam, for each new quiz was a chance for a new endeavor. At times he would stick his face so close to the paper that his nose would smother his writings and create an unintelligible blur, while at other times he would use two pens to complete the task, alternating hands for each problem.

But never in his eight years of school had he ever thought of cheating. His mind was always wrapped around his father’s message. The old, balding man would say, “Do your best son, and all will be well.” That would be the only time Timothy would see hope in his otherwise dreary days. His normal sour look would permeate the school campus, frightening away teachers and fellow peers. But he didn’t mind. Their opinions didn’t matter. After all, he was trying his best, and all would be well in the end.

Shimmering and dazzling, Priscilla was a completely different character. She was pompous and pretentious. Much too extroverted, for Timothy’s tastes. Her golden curls and sparkling lips could charm the most hardened teachers, regardless of what words flowed from her soothing mouth. Priscilla loved to talk about her beautiful appearance, her gorgeous dresses, and her stunning intelligence. Teachers would fawn over her wondering how they had met such a fine-looking yet humble student. She was so smart that she could get through life demanding everything and supplying nothing through deceit and trickery. But most of all, her expertise in spying on her classmates’ papers surged her to the position of Most Honorary Student. The superintendent, local heroes, college scouts, and even the President of the United States himself shook her hand. She was so proud, as were her parents. “Grab opportunity,” her mother would say in a methodical manner, lying on a chair with her fingers delicately balancing a glass of wine. “With anything you’ve got – nets, chains, or whatever. Don’t let it fly away, or even worse, let someone else snatch it.”

School was cruel, and so was life. Timothy hated it, just as he was still scared of the darkness. Every day he would see Priscilla, the most agonizing manifestation in his life, taking glory for things she didn’t deserve. Her radiant shine always blinded him, but he was always confused how all the light she released never exposed her own shadowy personality. Timothy noticed that he was the only one who could see Priscilla’s true nature. Everyone else was oblivious to her underhanded behavior. He often observed her flirting with the boys to wheedle out money, sweetly tagging along with the studious to take their answers, and crying innocently to teachers as she explained her excuses for missing assignments. And the world believed her, followed her, and worshipped her. She claimed that the heavens were her throne and the earth her mere footstool. Everyone was at her mercy, chained by a leash which she commanded the steps of life, handling the very essence of human independence. It was all under her authority.

So it should have been no surprise to Timothy when they announced that year’s Outstanding Student Award. He had tried in vain to change fate, a fate controlled by the mistress Priscilla herself. When the principal called her name before the sea of students to receive the award, she gave a passionate speech about how everyone was too kind, too generous, too easily manipulated. But of course no one minded what words spilled out. All that mattered was the melodic voice that fed them. Her twinkling teeth blinded them all. The crowds just stood and cheered like mindless robots, demanding an encore performance to a show they were not even paying attention to. Timothy was surprised, but of course, he knew the ending of this story even before it had even begun. He refused to watch more and went home.

 

He did not attend school the next day, for how can a dead child carry himself to school? His father found him in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs at home, the work of a nasty fall caused by a slippery piece of paper. The source of his demise, the scrap of paper, lay gently near his broken neck, reading – “All will be well.” The old man was confused and scratched his head. He was sure that he had heard that obscure statement from somewhere.

The next day in school, the news spread like wildfire, but luckily, there was someone to put out the flames. Priscilla brightened the day with her pleasant smile, making the world spin again. “What a lovely girl,” the principal commented. “She can bring out the sun on a rainy day.” Priscilla smiled to all the other students who passed her by in the halls, and their frowns turned upside-down. The whole school seemed to be bouncing around with a mechanical joy. Certainly, the mourning of the boy’s death could wait till tomorrow. Priscilla pranced down the halls and into class, where the lecture began the same as it always had since the first day – with one desk empty.

Herbert and the Egg

Herbert and the Egg

            Herbert sauntered home dejectedly, his feet dragging along the sidewalk. He looked despairingly at the murky sky and wished that he could be among the clouds floating so peacefully. While the white shapes drifted aimlessly about the vast heavens, Herbert would have to navigate through his demanding and unrelenting life. He angrily remembered what had happened earlier that day. Herbert had been drawing at his desk when Thompson

 and his cronies had arrived. They snatched his paper away and took it around the classroom, ridiculing his hard work. It was a picture of a group of dragons, each with yellowish scales and long, black hair flowing in the wind. They were all seated around a table enjoying a tea party.

            “Look at this!” Thompson had exclaimed. “What a fruitcake!”

            Herbert had not even tried to get it back – he was already used to this type of bullying and thought nothing of it. He had just waited patiently for the mockery to be over, and when it was, he went on sketching and coloring his picture.

            But then the day before, Thompson had thrown a rock the size of dollar coin at his head. And the day before that, Thompson had flushed Herbert’s head inside a toilet. And the day before that, Thompson had locked Herbert inside a gym locker. And the day before that… Herbert didn’t want to remember all these things – he was too tired.

            Sulking about after school, Herbert did not notice the new antique shop at first. As he passed by the store, an old man opened the squeaky door and peered out at Herbert. Surprised, the boy just stared back at the wrinkly man. Looking furtively around, the man beckoned with his bony finger for the boy to come inside. Herbert paused momentarily, but seeing that he had nothing else to do, proceeded into the store.

            Inside, there were shelves and shelves and shelves… of nothing. Giant cabinets holding dust balls and cobwebs filled the stores, but there was nothing on display anywhere. The whole place was empty. Herbert felt a shiver run down his spine and edged quickly towards the door.

            “Not so fast, young one!” The mysterious man cried. He hobbled towards the door and bolted it with a rusty key. “I’ve got something you’ll like.”

            “I don’t even know you!” Herbert said. “How would you know what I want?”

            The old man did not reply, and instead went behind his counter and began rummaging through some boxes that lay about the floor. “Ah ha!” He said. “Found it!”

            He revealed to Herbert a giant ball of crumpled newspapers that had faded to a sickly yellow color and laid it on the counter. Herbert stared at it disgustedly. “Open it,” the old man cajoled. “You’ll like it, I promise!”

            Herbert doubted that, but did as he was told anyway and forced himself to peel off the musty paper wrappings. When he did, he was utterly amazed – amidst the dirty newspaper sheets was an oval pearl the size of a large football. “That’s amazing!” Herbert thought aloud. The old man smiled. “You are my first customer,” he wheezed. “And just for that, I’ll let you have it free of charge!”

            “But I don’t even know what it is,” Herbert commented, still in a trance staring at the object.

            “A dragon’s egg, that’s what it is, my dear child!” The old man cackled. “One of the last of its kind! Just keep it warm, give it a bit of love, and it’ll attach itself to its master! Just like a duckling attaching to the first person it sees.”

            There was nothing the boy could say – this was his dream come true. He would finally be able to gain a companion who would always stick to his side, protecting him at all times, even from his tormentors. Herbert thought of all the different things the dragon could bring about in his life.

            “Child,” the old man began, somewhat wearily. “I must warn you before I let you take that home.”

            Herbert nodded slowly, almost as if in a trance. “To bring forth a dragon into being requires great patience, a patience worthy of the most noble of men. I am afraid that is why this race of these beautiful creatures is all but extinct now.”

            “You don’t have to worry about anything, sir,” Herbert stated confidently, his eyes still glued on the egg. “No one has more patience than I.”

            The boy looked up and beamed at the man. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes – fortune had finally set her eyes upon him, and now he would no longer have to be alone.

 

 

            It had been several months since Herbert had first obtained the egg. Ever since, he had a routine. In the morning, he would give the egg a bath, scrubbing it with shampoo, conditioner, soap, laundry detergent, dishwasher, and pretty much any household chemicals he could get a hold of to keep it spotless. Then he would wrap it in two towels and carefully stuff the egg into his backpack. At school, during any free time, he would rub the shell soothingly, making sure that no one else could see his affection for the egg. When he returned home, he devoted an hour to sing lullabies or hymns, and he could have sworn that the egg would hum along with him at times. The two were inseparable.

            Of course, this did not mean that Thompson and his crew were any more lenient. In fact, Thompson stepped his pestering up several notches, but to no avail. Instead, however, he began to be suspicious of Herbert’s change of attitude, because nothing seemed to faze him. In the past, his mockery would force Herbert to put on a depressing grimace, which delighted the bully. But recently, no matter how vile of an action was forced upon the boy, he would reveal a big smile. Thompson was the one who was getting scared now.

            Herbert was worn out from taking care of the precious treasure for half a year now, and was somewhat expecting his prize to come into fruition. He looked out his window and stared into the dark sky, gazing at the stars. The stars are so carefree, Herbert thought. Soon, he would join these celestial beings in never-ending comfort. Leaning out the window, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, lost in thought.

            Meanwhile, Thompson had been stalking Herbert and watched from behind a tree. There was certainly something going on that he was unaware of. Why was this pathetic being so confident and nonchalant these days? He knew that the kid was up to something, but what “that” was, Thompson would have to try to find out…

            Back in the house, Herbert just stared intensely at his egg. As he looked into the milky white shell, the different hues of the egg seemed to be mixing and swirling as if in a slow blender. From this mixture, a blurry picture of a dragon emerged, breathing a colorful spout of red and orange, slithering across the shell of the egg. It approached a form of a castle guarded by a black knight. They clashed against each other in epic proportions in equal strength, flames bursting about and the silver shine of the sword was everywhere. Then suddenly, the knight revealed a steel harness, with which he strapped the dragon. Crying out in defeat, the beast tumbled into the ground and the black knight clambered on top of the dragon, riding it into the –

            “Herbert!”

            He jumped from the sudden shout and fumbled the egg around. He quickly placed the egg outside the window on the rafters and turned to find his mother glaring at him. “I told you that it was time for dinner, Herbert!” She said. Shaking her head, she walked out of his room and headed back downstairs. The boy let out his breath in relief and carefully pulled the egg back into the room. He looked intently at the egg, but the pictures were gone. Placing the egg under the sheets of his bed, Herbert headed downstairs. Outside, Thompson was confused – was that white football what Herbert had been obsessing about all this time? There was something fishy about all this. Thompson looked up one last time at the window and then snuck back into the shadows.

            Herbert quickly finished his supper and immediately ran back to his room to sing to his egg. As he pulled it out from the blankets, he felt a movement from beneath the shell. The egg was beginning to hatch! Herbert squealed in glee and placed the jittering oval in his lap and rubbed it gently. As the jolting became more furious, Herbert’s mouth curled into a large smile and began to stroke the egg faster and faster and faster and faster. The egg shook violently and bounced up and down ferociously and Herbert could hear the snarls and yelps of the beast within the confines, attempting to break itself out of its prison. Then suddenly, a crack appeared at the tip of the egg, then silence. Herbert could not breathe. In quick intervals, cracks began scattering across the surface. Then the shell fell away.

            Now what could have been the life-defining moment of Herbert’s life instead chose to prolong his suffering. Herbert gawked in confusion and terror as he finally saw a glimpse of what it was that was hiding within his egg the entire time. It was no dragon, nor was it any other creature or thing that could have helped him escape his loneliness. What emerged from the egg was nothing more than another egg…

 

 

            Since that initial traumatizing moment more than a month ago, the egg had hatched several more times into several more eggs. Herbert was no longer a self-composed student – he muttered to himself nonsensically all the time and lashed out at any of his classmates when they tried to approach him. His hair was frazzled and his eyes yellow from countless sleepless nights. Thompson still was unable to figure out what it was that Herbert had been hiding, but seeing the boy so distraught comforted the bully. Whatever it was that he had been plotting had failed, so there was nothing that Thompson had to worry about anymore.

            One fateful day, as Herbert sat silently at his desk, Thompson pulled the last straw. Silently, the bully grabbed the boy’s back pack and flipped the contents onto the floor, spilling out his books, pencils, papers, and his prized dragon egg. There was a muted clunk as the egg wrapped in the blankets dropped on the ground. It rolled out in a wobbly fashion across the classroom, knocking into tables and chairs. Thompson stared at the round object, cautiously bent over, and picked it up in his hands. Before he could get a good look at the mysterious oval, Herbert came sailing through the room and knocked him into the wall. A fury of punches and kicks came roaring out of his petite body as he began smashing his tormentor. Screeching the entire time, the crazed boy scratched and tore at Thompson. Caught by surprise, the bully let out a cry for help and it took the entire class to tear apart Herbert from his prey. The teacher dragged Herbert out of the class, who was still frothing at the mouth.

            After being sentenced to a suspension, Herbert crawled out of the school. His eyes darted to and fro, unable to keep still. His teeth chattered and his entire body twitched in a psychotic rhythm. “Patience!” Herbert cackled aloud as he walked home. “Is a virtue! Patience makes a bad boy a good man! Ha!” Licking his lips frantically, he opened his backpack and withdrew the egg. “Old man, my misery was not my own emptiness! It was not Thompson! It was this! This egg! You deceived me!” In Herbert’s mind, the old man’s face transformed into Thompson’s. Even if Herbert would crack open Thompson’s skull, another one would crawl right out of the broken head, laughing at Hebert the entire time. Over and over again he would strike Thompson, but over and over again he would come back.

            Herbert jolted down the street and headed for the old man’s shop. He needed to speak to the old man about this trickery. As he thought about all the different ways he could confront the store keeper, Herbert found himself at a loss. He could have sworn that the shop had been right there months ago. But now, all that remained was an empty alleyway. There was not even a structure in its place. Bewildered, Herbert clambered into the dark pathway.

            As he ventured deep into the crevice, a shadow suddenly blotted out the light. Spinning around, he found Thompson blocking the entrance. “So what is it that you’ve got there, buddy?” Herbert felt the egg in his hands grow heavy and his mind raging in pain. Suffering, loneliness, hatred, coldness – all these things swirled furiously in his head. Then, unable to take the torment any longer, Herbert let out a piercing cry and with all his strength threw the egg against the wall next to Thompson.

            There was a loud crack and an explosion of light, and from the bright flashes, it emerged. Slowly and majestically, a pair of wings jutted out, covered in emerald scales. A long, green tail whipped out from the smoke and a ball of fire burst into the sky. The beast raised its crocodilian snout and presented its full form before the two boys. It was not a fledgling, but a full grown dragon in all of its glory and splendor. It turned its ruby eyes and stared into Thompson’s. Herbert began to giggle and then held in a stifling laughter. Unable to keep it in, he exploded into a cackle, screaming, “My child! My baby that I have showered my love upon! Devour the enemy! Unleash our retribution! Bring forth…!”

The dragon promptly lunged out on the unsuspecting Herbert and swallowed him whole. Because it had seen Thompson first, the beast had mistaken the bully as his loving master. Having finished its meal, the dragon allowed the stunned Thompson to climb into its back, and they soared off together into the sunset, and they lived happily ever after.

The end. 

Introduction

Hello fellow readers, thanks for checking my blog out! As an aspiring writer, I hope to post my stories online to have them reviewed. Please, feel free to criticize, constructively or destructively, to help improve myself. Again, thank you!