Last
night, I was scared out of my wits and did nothing and my fears fed my
paralysis. Tonight, I broke that paralysis and went upstairs. Qué será será. What you are about to read leans heavily
on certainty and understanding than it does on belief. It’s what I’ve come to
call, reverse entropy. We ain’t talking
possibilities here, people. This is less known reality and is not less real
than what’s commonly called reality.
I
was raised on fairy tales and fantasies. And I grew up on tales from the Roman Myths and Legends. They were a
part of my daily young life, as much as lessons from my school texts were. You wouldn’t
blame me for believing in monsters and ogres and Aladdin’s lamp if your childhood
library could boast half the stuff mine was loaded with. The reality of these
things was so close to the bone that I think that sometimes, I went to bed
half-expecting to wake up to find, standing in my bedroom with lips peeled back
to reveal nightmarish canine, the big bad
wolf. And of course, ready to make dinner out of me.
I
don’t have to paint you a more graphic illustration, do I? I believed that
Cinderella’s glass slipper existed
and was stowed away somewhere in the medieval regions of Europe. I believed a
lot of things that would have made a sworn sadist crack up until his belly
ached.
Have
I ever considered the option that my fears triggered my monster into existence? Sure, sure I have. But the real question is do I believe that option; the veritability of its assumption? Answer:
insufficient data. Faith, belief and fear sometimes, give the unreal or supernatural access into our
vital breathing spaces. No doubt about that. But, whether that could be applied
to my circumstance was another issue.
When
I was little, I used to call under my bed, Kingdom
of the Underbed because I could have sworn (if I was permitted to do it
that was) monsters lived there. And here’s something else I believed; I believed
the barest gears of our psyche are greased by the oil of the fairy tales we heard
and read in our growing years. All the clogs and nuts of our being and faculty
which remain serviceable are functions of the morals and realities gleaned off
folklores heard in the weak glow of long ago moonlights.
I’m
a man now and do not need to sit between the legs of a great uncle to listen to
tales of faraway lands. I am mature now and know such things are behind me. Heck,
that’s what I thought until last night. Last night was the eve of my
birthday-my thirtieth.
The
Kingdom of the Underbed for me, had
always held its fascinations. What, with all the little chaps of the rodent
family playing their games of Hide and
Seek. But last night was different. The noises I heard coming from under my
bed could not have been produced by a million rats clustered together under
there. My childhood monster was back.
Trafalgar True is
supposedly a sweet and friendly dragon but, that knowledge was not strong
enough to keep the scream from busting out from me nor did it help any when my
legs decided to flee down the flight of stairs taking four steps a time.
So,
tonight I went back up there to my room with the belief that childish faith is
stronger than adultish terror when
you came right down to it. And true enough I was right. Trafalgar True was still true to his sweet nature. And he had a
message for me.
I
have written this note in case I do not make it back on time for Christmas.
Trafalgar True is a
children’s fantasy by Stephen Cosgrove.
And is available on google books and Amazon.
Notes to myself:
Add dialogue between the main
character and the dragon.
Did the dragon (Trafalgar True)
pop out from under the bed (Kingdom of the Underbed, as the character calls it)
or was there a portal, something for the character to use as a door when returning
with the dragon.
Does the story end up as children’s
fantasy or horror/fantasy?
Add the Dragon’s
Message and remember to make it the
driving force of the plot.
Will the kith and kin in the
Cosgrove story feature in the final draft or will Trafalgar take the character
to some other fantasy realm?
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