The Dragonlady and I
By Teel James Glenn
The Dragonlady
was a tall, stunning and ravenhaired with an eyepatch and an attitude, exactly the kind of woman that fed into all my dysfunctional wiring and drove me crazy. She would mess with my mind by alternating the eyepatch on different days and gave me a conspiratorial smirk when I noticed.
I stopped by the tent she hawked in front off every morning on my security rounds before the public was allowed onto the renaissance faire grounds. I tried my considerable charm on the Dragonnlady but all I ever got was that maddening, enticing smile.
“Step up,’ she bellowed in a fake Cornwall accent, “ Step up, warm bloods, and see the awesome sleeping dragon!” She stood on a wooden platform in front of the b ig canvas, circus type tent and cracked a six foot bullwhip every once and a while for emphasis. “See the great reptile as he slumbers and see his golden horde; just one dollar!”
She was barker and tour guide for the Sleeping Dragon exhibit, a jobbed in show that rented the tent each year from the faire owners and had two burly costumed ‘dragon hunters’ out front to collect it’s own cash each day.
The crowds filed in at a steady pace all day and exited around the back suitably impressed.
I’d seen the show the first weekend of the faire, when she had first ‘caught my eye.”
Just inside the entrance flap the tent was dark and smoky. The Dragonlady,, suitably dressed in medieval leather garb, would lead in the crowd with a knowing smile and a wink. “Enter ye the Sleeping Dragon’s den,’ she would intone in a solemn whisper, “But at your own risk for he guards his horde like the greedy miser that he is and the great scaled beast slumbers but fitfully. Make no noise or I will not be responsible for what might occur!”
Then she lead the crowd around an interior curtain to the main room of the tent to reveal the Sleeping Dragon.
It was impressive; the latex dragon puppet was a dull brown, twenty feet long (not counting the tail) had stiff ridge plates on its back and a long narrow beaked head. Its eyes were closed and it was curled up like a slumbering dog. It slept on and was surrounded by sacks of gold coins piled up artistically to create a comfy looking nest.
All the audience oohed and awed when tiny puffs of smoke would drift at irregular intervals from the beast’s nostrils. The crowning bit of showmanship was the slow gentle rise and fall of the great saurian ’s chest as it slumbered: you could almost imagine the sound of it snoring.
“The beast rests here for the summer,” the Dragonlady said, with an expansive gesture,” but we have to hope he has no nightmares…”
The crowd shuffled slowly passed the dragon, awed by the exacting detail of claws, scales and rough skin pores. Even lashes on the great closed eyelids of the beast.
At that moment the Dragonlady ‘accidentally’ knocked over a tripod filled with coins which clattered to the carpet. Suddenly the dragon’s eye flew open and the great yellow orb focused on the audience.
Someone screamed and the crowd raced, giggling, out of the tent flap.
I hung back until the group had exited and got up close to my Dragonlady.
“Nice show there, Cyclops,” I said.
She gave me that smile that made me all tingly and said in a quiet voice,” We aim to please, m’lord.” She set up the tripod again and dropped coins into the bowl.
“ Then why not meet me for a drink after the show tonight?”
“We don’t aim to please that much, my warm blood.” She winked with her un-patched eye. Before I could come up with a witty comeback she hurried off to lead in the next group of paying customers.
So it went the whole summer; every time I saw her we spared verbally and I struck out. A guy could develop a complex, except that I found out I wasn’t special: she had never dated anyone at the faire in the three years she had worked it.
No one cold tell me where the Sleeping Dragon show was based out of or where they went when the show closed either, so I couldn’t track down a clue about her real name.
If I was gonna solve the mystery of my Dragonlady I had to do it by closing night party.
That closing night party came all too quick and by midnight my eyepatched siren had still not arrived. I was drunk and looking for her and had had more than my share of bottle dreams. All I could think of, even in the noise and bustle of the cast party was my Dragonlady.
Rumor had it that the Sleeping Dragon show would be gone tomorrow and in my beer haze I was sure I’d die if I didn’t see her again. I had to at least learn her name.
I slipped away from the party and down onto the grounds of the faire. I was pretty unsteady but eventually the dark shape of the Sleeping Dragon tent loomed before me.
There was no one in sight and the front tent flap was laced closed so I staggered to the edge of the tent and squirmed beneath the bottom of the canvas.
The inside of the tent was not the pitch black I expected, there was a faint flickering red glow that suggested a fire somewhere, but I couldn’t locate it.
Even with the phantom glow it was hard to keep from tripping over sacks of coins and other vague shapes in the near dark. I couldn’t see my sleek sinister lady but I could see the great saurian bulk, still pulsing with imitation respiration.
Then I saw her, standing across the tent with her back to me.
“Hey, Dragonlady,” I called “Your Prince Charming is here.” She didn’t move so I staggered closer.
“Come on , mystery lady,” I said, “ Please give me a break: I gotta at least know your name.”
She never turned to even acknowledge me as I navigated the coin sack maze over to her.
“Take pity on a vet, cupcake.” I pleaded as I reached for her shoulder. The leather of her doublet was cool to the touch as I pulled her around to face me. I was a little unsteady and pulled too hard so she fell over at me. I was taken by surprise but still caught her in my arms. She was so light.
And Stiff.
“Hey, honey, you okay?” her skin was cold to the touch and when I felt for pulse there was none.
I got scared.
“Oh geeze,” I exclaimed. I shuffled to her side, my besotted brain frantically trying to remember how to do cpr.
I reached down to touch her cheek and heard a sound from behind me un-like anything I had ever heard before or since. It was like the low rumbling of a thousand distant thunderclouds or the roar of an angry surf. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The rumbling continued so I had no choice but to turn.
What I saw has been my stuff of nightmares since; The Dragon stirred.
The great reptilian bulk rolled toward me, heaving up on it’s fore legs like a sleeper waking to his first stretch.
The huge lidded eyes opened and stared directly at me.
I think I wet myself.
The beast rose to all fours and waggled its oversized head from side to side as if to work out a kink in its neck.
I was paralyzed with fear. I watched as the creature walked around the tent, pushing all the bags of coins into the center of the oriental carpet that served as floor to the space. Then it grabbed the four corners of the rug and bundled the contents like Santa’s sack and threw it over it’s shoulder.
That got me moving, I grabbed my lady up in my arms and backed toward the door flap hoping the Dragon wouldn’t look our way then something yanked the woman out of my arms and I fell on my butt.
There was a cable that was wrapped around her right ankle. I reached down to free it and found something odd.. It was attached directly to her boot.
Then the Dragon was right above me, its breath hot and oddly sweet. It reached a huge taloned hand toward us, grabbed the cable from the Dragonlady’s heel and un-looped it to straighten it out.
Suddenly the Dragonlady sat up and turned her head to look at me and said,” silly warm blood,” she said. I knew for certain that it wasn’t her voice. “ You really should not pay so much attention to surface details.”
The simulacrum smiled and walked passed me to climb into the carpet sack being held by the Dragon pulling the cable attached to her heel in behind her.
The Dragon reared up, reached above it to fold back a vent in the ceiling of the tent to expose the night sky above and unfurled its leathery wings. It looked down at me and spoke in a voice like the rumble of thunder.
“See you next year, Warm blood.” It crouched and leapt upward with a single sweep of its wings. A hot sweet wind drove me to the ground where I passed out cold.
When I opened my eyes I holding an eyepatch in my hand.
I never did go back to that fair….
}
~~~~~ <~
}
I stopped by the tent she hawked in front off every morning on my security rounds before the public was allowed onto the renaissance faire grounds. I tried my considerable charm on the Dragonnlady but all I ever got was that maddening, enticing smile.
“Step up,’ she bellowed in a fake Cornwall accent, “ Step up, warm bloods, and see the awesome sleeping dragon!” She stood on a wooden platform in front of the b ig canvas, circus type tent and cracked a six foot bullwhip every once and a while for emphasis. “See the great reptile as he slumbers and see his golden horde; just one dollar!”
She was barker and tour guide for the Sleeping Dragon exhibit, a jobbed in show that rented the tent each year from the faire owners and had two burly costumed ‘dragon hunters’ out front to collect it’s own cash each day.
The crowds filed in at a steady pace all day and exited around the back suitably impressed.
I’d seen the show the first weekend of the faire, when she had first ‘caught my eye.”
Just inside the entrance flap the tent was dark and smoky. The Dragonlady,, suitably dressed in medieval leather garb, would lead in the crowd with a knowing smile and a wink. “Enter ye the Sleeping Dragon’s den,’ she would intone in a solemn whisper, “But at your own risk for he guards his horde like the greedy miser that he is and the great scaled beast slumbers but fitfully. Make no noise or I will not be responsible for what might occur!”
Then she lead the crowd around an interior curtain to the main room of the tent to reveal the Sleeping Dragon.
It was impressive; the latex dragon puppet was a dull brown, twenty feet long (not counting the tail) had stiff ridge plates on its back and a long narrow beaked head. Its eyes were closed and it was curled up like a slumbering dog. It slept on and was surrounded by sacks of gold coins piled up artistically to create a comfy looking nest.
All the audience oohed and awed when tiny puffs of smoke would drift at irregular intervals from the beast’s nostrils. The crowning bit of showmanship was the slow gentle rise and fall of the great saurian ’s chest as it slumbered: you could almost imagine the sound of it snoring.
“The beast rests here for the summer,” the Dragonlady said, with an expansive gesture,” but we have to hope he has no nightmares…”
The crowd shuffled slowly passed the dragon, awed by the exacting detail of claws, scales and rough skin pores. Even lashes on the great closed eyelids of the beast.
At that moment the Dragonlady ‘accidentally’ knocked over a tripod filled with coins which clattered to the carpet. Suddenly the dragon’s eye flew open and the great yellow orb focused on the audience.
Someone screamed and the crowd raced, giggling, out of the tent flap.
I hung back until the group had exited and got up close to my Dragonlady.
“Nice show there, Cyclops,” I said.
She gave me that smile that made me all tingly and said in a quiet voice,” We aim to please, m’lord.” She set up the tripod again and dropped coins into the bowl.
“ Then why not meet me for a drink after the show tonight?”
“We don’t aim to please that much, my warm blood.” She winked with her un-patched eye. Before I could come up with a witty comeback she hurried off to lead in the next group of paying customers.
So it went the whole summer; every time I saw her we spared verbally and I struck out. A guy could develop a complex, except that I found out I wasn’t special: she had never dated anyone at the faire in the three years she had worked it.
No one cold tell me where the Sleeping Dragon show was based out of or where they went when the show closed either, so I couldn’t track down a clue about her real name.
If I was gonna solve the mystery of my Dragonlady I had to do it by closing night party.
That closing night party came all too quick and by midnight my eyepatched siren had still not arrived. I was drunk and looking for her and had had more than my share of bottle dreams. All I could think of, even in the noise and bustle of the cast party was my Dragonlady.
Rumor had it that the Sleeping Dragon show would be gone tomorrow and in my beer haze I was sure I’d die if I didn’t see her again. I had to at least learn her name.
I slipped away from the party and down onto the grounds of the faire. I was pretty unsteady but eventually the dark shape of the Sleeping Dragon tent loomed before me.
There was no one in sight and the front tent flap was laced closed so I staggered to the edge of the tent and squirmed beneath the bottom of the canvas.
The inside of the tent was not the pitch black I expected, there was a faint flickering red glow that suggested a fire somewhere, but I couldn’t locate it.
Even with the phantom glow it was hard to keep from tripping over sacks of coins and other vague shapes in the near dark. I couldn’t see my sleek sinister lady but I could see the great saurian bulk, still pulsing with imitation respiration.
Then I saw her, standing across the tent with her back to me.
“Hey, Dragonlady,” I called “Your Prince Charming is here.” She didn’t move so I staggered closer.
“Come on , mystery lady,” I said, “ Please give me a break: I gotta at least know your name.”
She never turned to even acknowledge me as I navigated the coin sack maze over to her.
“Take pity on a vet, cupcake.” I pleaded as I reached for her shoulder. The leather of her doublet was cool to the touch as I pulled her around to face me. I was a little unsteady and pulled too hard so she fell over at me. I was taken by surprise but still caught her in my arms. She was so light.
And Stiff.
“Hey, honey, you okay?” her skin was cold to the touch and when I felt for pulse there was none.
I got scared.
“Oh geeze,” I exclaimed. I shuffled to her side, my besotted brain frantically trying to remember how to do cpr.
I reached down to touch her cheek and heard a sound from behind me un-like anything I had ever heard before or since. It was like the low rumbling of a thousand distant thunderclouds or the roar of an angry surf. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The rumbling continued so I had no choice but to turn.
What I saw has been my stuff of nightmares since; The Dragon stirred.
The great reptilian bulk rolled toward me, heaving up on it’s fore legs like a sleeper waking to his first stretch.
The huge lidded eyes opened and stared directly at me.
I think I wet myself.
The beast rose to all fours and waggled its oversized head from side to side as if to work out a kink in its neck.
I was paralyzed with fear. I watched as the creature walked around the tent, pushing all the bags of coins into the center of the oriental carpet that served as floor to the space. Then it grabbed the four corners of the rug and bundled the contents like Santa’s sack and threw it over it’s shoulder.
That got me moving, I grabbed my lady up in my arms and backed toward the door flap hoping the Dragon wouldn’t look our way then something yanked the woman out of my arms and I fell on my butt.
There was a cable that was wrapped around her right ankle. I reached down to free it and found something odd.. It was attached directly to her boot.
Then the Dragon was right above me, its breath hot and oddly sweet. It reached a huge taloned hand toward us, grabbed the cable from the Dragonlady’s heel and un-looped it to straighten it out.
Suddenly the Dragonlady sat up and turned her head to look at me and said,” silly warm blood,” she said. I knew for certain that it wasn’t her voice. “ You really should not pay so much attention to surface details.”
The simulacrum smiled and walked passed me to climb into the carpet sack being held by the Dragon pulling the cable attached to her heel in behind her.
The Dragon reared up, reached above it to fold back a vent in the ceiling of the tent to expose the night sky above and unfurled its leathery wings. It looked down at me and spoke in a voice like the rumble of thunder.
“See you next year, Warm blood.” It crouched and leapt upward with a single sweep of its wings. A hot sweet wind drove me to the ground where I passed out cold.
When I opened my eyes I holding an eyepatch in my hand.
I never did go back to that fair….
}
~~~~~ <~
}
My greatest achievement however, is my awesome daughter Aislin Rose.
I’ve had stories and articles printed in scores of magazines fr om Mad to Black Belt and Fantasy Tales and a number of books published: four in the Altiva fantasy saga: Tales of a Warrior Priest (an anthology), and Death at Dragonthroat, The Daemonhold Curse and Sister Warrior are available as well as the mysteries A Hex of Shadows(09), Knight Errant :Death and Life at the Faire , The fantasy Queen Morgana and the Ren Fairies and the science fiction Vision Quest Factor. I also have the non-fiction book on the craft Them’s Fightin’ Words: A Writers Guide to Writing Fight Scenes from all from the same publisher from ePress-Onlne.
The Horsed Thief is out from Eternal Press.
The Exceptionals Science Fiction Adventure series :#1 The Measure of a Man , #2 Across the Wasteland. And #3 On the Good Ship Caligula (09) and the thriller The Escape Artist (09) are from Whiskey Creek Press.
My website is theurbanswashbuckler.com
I’ve had stories and articles printed in scores of magazines fr om Mad to Black Belt and Fantasy Tales and a number of books published: four in the Altiva fantasy saga: Tales of a Warrior Priest (an anthology), and Death at Dragonthroat, The Daemonhold Curse and Sister Warrior are available as well as the mysteries A Hex of Shadows(09), Knight Errant :Death and Life at the Faire , The fantasy Queen Morgana and the Ren Fairies and the science fiction Vision Quest Factor. I also have the non-fiction book on the craft Them’s Fightin’ Words: A Writers Guide to Writing Fight Scenes from all from the same publisher from ePress-Onlne.
The Horsed Thief is out from Eternal Press.
The Exceptionals Science Fiction Adventure series :#1 The Measure of a Man , #2 Across the Wasteland. And #3 On the Good Ship Caligula (09) and the thriller The Escape Artist (09) are from Whiskey Creek Press.
My website is theurbanswashbuckler.com
