Page 10 of Eliza's Cursed Dragon

I flew higher and higher. Higher than I had ever been. My wings carried me to the stars, or so it seemed, as another cry of anguish, anger, and the deepest pain I had ever felt ripped through me.

Why?

For the millionth time, I asked this question. Why?

What had I done to deserve the witch cursing me like this?

I flew until my wings lost their strength to fight gravity. For a bit I hung suspended in the air, higher than the clouds. The church and graveyard, the pond, were barely dots on the ground.

Slowly at first, I began to fall, then faster. Wind rushed by me as gravity reclaimed my body, and for a moment I considered just letting go. Just to allow gravity to draw me in and break me into a thousand unrecognizable pieces. I had nothing left. Only pain awaited me.

I closed my eyes.

The wind howled by me, the speed became dizzying and my body spiraled. I made out trees, the pond, the graveyard, the church. And then her face appeared in front of me and my wings expanded, stalling the fall. I wasn’t ready yet to die or give up. No matter the pain. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to meet her.

The next few days became the most exquisite, torturous days of my life. Every night I returned to the church, hid in the nearly ruined belltower, and watched the mysterious girl collect nettles, of all things. They grew in abundance on and around the old graves and headstones.

She carried a large burlap sack which she painstakingly filled, making her even more mysterious to me. Those nettles stung, I had experienced it before and couldn’t understand why anybody in their right mind would collect them, or why.

Some nights one or more of the swans accompanied her, squawking and pecking at a bush if they found more nettles, pointing them out to her. I found myself obsessed with wanting to know her, finding out where she came from, what she was doing here.

It had been a long three years, during which I had not once looked forward to nighttime. Now though, it was all I could think about during the day. I could hardly wait for the sun to finally disappear and take on my dragon form to spy on the mystifying girl that now captivated every waking thought in my mind.

Eliza

Another year, another church.

It had been three years now and five graveyards. I had finished five mantles and working hard on the sixth. I needed to finish more than two a year, if I was to succeed.

Some days doubt crept in. Mostly on the days my fingers hurt from the blisters and stung the worst.

Sometimes I cried. When I did, my brothers surrounded me with their love, nudged me with their beaks, brushed their feathery wings against my skin, reminding me why I was doing this. That’s when I shamefacedly realized that their lot was so much worse than mine. Imprisoned in bodies that weren’t theirs, relying on me to save them, helpless to do anything for me, their suffering was a thousand times more terrible than mine.

A few times I caught one or two of my brothers trying to sneak away with the sack of nettles, as if telling me to stop. But how could I?

Wordlessly we held each other, none of us able to speak, to give sound to our emotions, helpless to even say I love you.

But it was there. In everything we did for each other. When they kept me warm at night, or when I sowed the nettles into a mantle while my fingers bled. Our love for one another was stronger than any curse and I was determined we would prevail.

We moved from one graveyard to another, leaving once there were no more nettles to be found. Winter or summer, it didn’t matter to us. When it got too cold, my brothers enveloped me and their warm feathery bodies kept me alive, cozy even.

They ate whatever they found around the various bodies of water we encountered, and I, by selling one piece of jewelry at a time. It saddened me whenever I had to sell the next piece, because it felt as if I were giving up another part of my mother, but deep in my heart I knew that this was what she would have wanted me to do.

I was careful about it, always selling the jewelry on our way out of town, so that nobody would find me if they came looking, planning on robbing me. It had nearly happened once, but my brothers had chased the man off, so I was extra careful now.

It had been hard leaving Fable Forest behind and everything we had ever known, the Outside still intimidated me. The first car I saw chased me into the bushes. Three years later though, I thought I had gotten the hang of things, mostly. Here or there we still encountered something new. Like farther down from the church there were people building what seemed like an entire town. They used machines larger than I could have ever imagined. Their tires alone were taller than me.

This new graveyard though, not only offered a fortune in nettles, but the dilapidated church was an excellent hiding spot.

The breaking of the church’s steeple during the first night had been frightening, so much so, I had imagined hearing a roar before it happened, but I blamed my overactive imagination for it. After all, I had been asleep until the rumbling woke me.

I was still a bit concerned the entire building would come crashing down on us, but after a closer inspection it looked sturdy enough. At least to keep us protected from the elements.

With the jewelry I could have bought all kinds of things, like blankets and pillows, but with us being constantly on the move they would have been more of a hinderance than provided comfort. My brothers kept me plenty warm and cozy at night. I figured the less we had, the less of a target we would make, and the less I had to carry.

For some reason I really liked this place and dreaded the day we would have to inevitably leave. I also liked the idea of the town being built, it held a promise of new beginnings and hope.

The pond was large enough for my brothers to frolic in and offered plenty of nourishment for them.

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