Uncaged
By Wes
Leigh featuring the contributions of Rob the Scribe
This is a work of fiction intended
solely for the entertainment of our readers; any resemblance to any real people
or places is purely coincidental. Readers who would like to chat are encouraged
to contact us at weston.leigh@protonmail.com and
robthescribe@protonmail.com.
This story is the property of
the authors and is protected by copyright laws. The authors retain all rights.
No reproductions are allowed without the authors' consent.
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Roderyk placed a hand on RJ's shoulder and
squeezed it gently. "What are you working on?"
RJ looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Just
something I started writing. You wanna read it?"
Roderyk nodded. "Of course! Always want to read whatever you write."
RJ smiled and handed Roderyk the paper, waiting
as his boyfriend read silently.
THE AWAKENING
By
Robin the Bard
The darkness was almost unbearable. He had always been there. He had never felt
the bright sun on his scales. Never felt the warm wind of a balmy summer day
under his wings.
But
that was a lie. He'd been sleeping down here for far too long. Here, far below
the mountain, in his lair, in the midst of the all-encompassing rock. And so he deluded himself. It was true: even the mightiest mind
could be deceived by its senses. And so he would
probably end up a prisoner of his own mind.
How
many others were left? How many of them were like him? How many had perished?
Did they all deserve it? Did they deserve it like he did? Did they deserve it
because he ruined them all?
Or
was it just the natural course of things? Had it just been natural that his
kind had given way to another race? He wanted to believe it. But how pointless
this way had been.
Once
he and his brothers and sisters had been the mightiest under heaven. They were
the ones who were created before the humans and thus emerged strengthened from
the Great Magic. They should have reigned forever. At least that's how his
people saw it. All of them, the dragons, saw humans as nothing more than prey. A
few, maybe a species of servants and subjects, but no more.
How
presumptuous, how arrogant they had been! How could they have believed that
humans would have accepted such a fate? They who had already risen above their
former masters, the spirits, and banished them?
The
resting one shook his huge head involuntarily.
These
humans would never have allowed themselves to be so oppressed. Not by the spirits,
not by the dragons, none of them. These humans just weren't like that.
Humans.
At this word alone, the most contradictory feelings stirred in him. Humans were
the epitome of weakness and the symbol of hidden strength. They were the
followers. They were the mob. They were the rebels. They were sin. They were
virtue.
This
inconspicuous breed stood for all of this and so much more besides.
Why
was he the only one among his own kind who recognized it? Why had all the
others just closed their eyes and flown in the direction of their demise?
He
alone had approached them, this young species, wanting to guide them. But again and again his own race got in his way. None of them
could understand him, who only had the best for them all in mind. Nobody wanted
to listen to him, wanted to walk his path with him.
At first he tried to convince them. He tried to explain his way
to them, tried to get them on his side. But they laughed at him.
They
called him a do-gooder, a philanthropist, a hopeless fool, an enemy of his own
race.
Meanwhile,
the dying among the humans continued.
Grief
was his constant companion at the time. He, who saw generations of humans come
and go, mourned for every person who had to suffer and die at the hands of the
dragons. Everything, it seemed to him, he had longed for; everything he tried
to convey to his family was in vain. They would never shake off their desires,
forget their lust for power. They would never recognize humans as equals among
equals. And yet it was so badly needed.
All
talking, all negotiating, wouldn't help. Action would have to follow. There
would have to be a fight. He would have to fight against his own kind. He would
have to wipe out his family.
But
hadn't they caused it? Weren't they the ones who had laughed at him because of
his closeness to humans? Hadn't they been the ones who had branded him? Hadn't
they been the ones who had rejected him, their son, their brother, their father?
Wasn't
it the humans who took him in, who promised him a future, who deserved a future
of their own? It was a decision. His decision. A decision with far reaching
consequences.
A
decision that turned out in favor of the humans.
Thus
began the age of the great dragon hunts. And so they
fell. His brothers and sisters. His kind. His family. They were vengefully
snatched away by the blades of men, cut down ruthlessly by his own claws,
crushed in cold blood by his jaws, heartlessly burned by the magic within him
and that of the human Magii.
The dragons
could not escape them, because no one was on their side. Didn't they bring this
upon themselves? Wasn't it their own fault? Hadn't they been the architects of
their own destiny?
Sticking
always in his mind was the one thought: it was he who had brought death to his
own.
With
every last sigh, with every last fiery breath, something had died in him.
Something he could never regain. He had sinned against them, against his
family. Noble as his reasons might have been, he could not deny it.
Eventually
the last of the dragons decided to retreat; to begin a sleep from which they
did not wake until people had forgotten. Had forgotten what once was, what once
existed. Until the dragons could once again reach out for power.
It would
be a new age. A time when humans finally took over. A time when there were no
more dragons.
He
too had to disappear. To become dormant. He knew that very well at the time.
But
he wasn't allowed to disappear into nothingness. He had to keep awake. He had
to disappear so that one day he could face the sleepers. They who slept now
would want to enslave humanity again. Someone had to stand up to them in the
future as well. He would have to fight again. Sometime. In the future.
And so he too lay down to sleep, as the last of the dragons; his
name a mark of human honor: Draco.
And
now Draco stirred underground. People had forgotten the past for far too long.
For far too long they believed that he and his kind did not exist, that they
belonged to the realm of myth and legend.
But
they were wrong. The dragons, the spirits, the werewolves and Tuatha were all
real and threatened the unsuspecting.
His
former brothers and sisters knew this and were about to awaken. This was the
reason why Draco had been jolted out of his sleep so suddenly.
Draco
knew perfectly what had happened. Now it was time for him to explore this new
era. Much had to be prepared. After all, it was about nothing less than the
future of all mankind.
Roderyk, impressed with RJ's story,
handed it back with a curious expression. "Why are you writing this?"
RJ shrugged. "I don't know. It's just
something I thought would be fun to write. A story about dragons coming into
the world again." When Roderyk frowned but said nothing, RJ asked, "What? What
are you thinking?"
"Nothing."
RJ punched Roderyk in the arm. "Come
on! Tell me what you think."
"It's a great story. Sounds
interesting, and I'd like to read it. It's just ..."
"What? What are you hiding from me?"
Roderyk took a deep breath and said,
"Okay. You really want to know what I'm thinking?"
RJ nodded.
Roderyk shrugged and said, "I'm just
trying to figure out what they symbolize? The dragons. The spirits. The humans.
What does it all mean?"
RJ, puzzled, shook his head and
replied. "They don't symbolize anything, Roderyk. It's just a story, okay? A
story doesn't have to be anything more than a story!"
Laughing, Roderyk kissed RJ on the
nose. "Okay. I'm sorry."
RJ grinned. "For the first time in my
life, I'm truly happy. I'm with people I love. My life is good. Can't I just
write a story that's fun and entertaining? Geez!"
Roderyk looked at his young lover and
smirked. Then he took RJ in his arms and lifted him off the ground, spinning
the boy around and making him laugh. "Happy? Is that what you are?"
RJ nodded and nuzzled Roderyk's neck. "Very."
The end of UNCAGED, with
warmest regards from Weston Leigh and Rob the Scribe.
A few words from
the authors...
From Rob the
Scribe (robthescribe@protonmail.com):
Before
I met Wes, I was lonely. Only now, very gradually, do I realize how much.
I told him how bad it was for me. How much I suffered, how much I wished to be
someone else. He listened to me, he understood me, and he created this story
around my feelings.
I owe him so much...
I hope in this story I give some of that back to you.
Be proud of who you are. Don't be ashamed. Raise your head. Look up. Face a
rapidly rising sun. Stand for yourself. Don't listen to the voices around you;
don't believe for a moment that your feelings are wrong.
Those
dark days of pain and fear, sadness and hopelessness are now over. New days
will come. Days full of cheerfulness and laughter, joy and courage.
And we, who have experienced, and will experience all this, look up. Full of
hope we look towards the rapidly rising sun.
From Wes Leigh (weston.leigh@protonmail.com):
When
I first started chatting with Rob, my heart was broken by his story. By the
struggles he'd endured and overcome.
And
when he shared his essays with me, I broke down and cried, because his words
were an expression of raw emotion. Like a surgeon's knife, those words cut deep
into the wounds we all have from the poisonous hatred of others.
It
hurts to relive the past, but then something amazing begins to happen. The
words that first cut into you then begin to heal you. The tears you shed
cleanse your soul and you find peace.
My
hope for those of you who've read Uncaged is that you've found healing
in these words and hope for your future.
And
perhaps you'll also find a good friend, as I have, in Rob. Friends stand beside
you, offer a shoulder to cry on, give you strength to face life's
struggles. May you all find a friend who
holds the key to whatever has encaged you.
With warmest regards, Wes.