"The Fog Descends" - 11 & Counting

An urban fantasy serial.

Part 15 – The Fog Descends


A thick fog surrounded the farmhouse early the next morning.

Aunt Jenna watched it from the safety of her kitchen, standing close to the stove. Her fingers rested just above her old kettle, feeling the steam just starting to rise from the spout. It wasn't abnormal, but she sensed something strange about it.

Easing the window open just enough to let in a draft of air, she closed her eyes and sniffed deeply. The saline scent carried on the wind was heavy and fragrant. In that moment she could not only see but hear the rolling waves of the ocean. A tear rolled down her cheek. Her hand began to push the window open further. A voice called to her from the waves.

Don’t be afraid. The water is fine. Come to me.

"The Girl who Loved Dragon Ball" - 11 & Counting

An urban fantasy serial.

Part 14: "The Girl Who Loved Dragon Ball"

Andrew slowed down as he neared the other children wading into the water near the shore, unsure of what to say or how to join in a game he definitely didn't understand. He watched the sparkling ball about the size of a kickball, which resembled a shiny pearl being butted back and forth between the gularisses and the humans. Even Showa, the koi-like gulariss that had seemed so shy before was caught up in the excitement. He butted it to his caudal fin and then slapped it high into the air, spinning so fast all of the water that flew off rained down like a sudden shower.

Finally he couldn't hold it in. He really wanted for once to join in on something.

"Viola!" He called out loudly, cupping his hands to be heard over their cheering.

The purple gulariss turned her head towards him, bounding over excitedly, "Hey Everybody! Andrew's here!"

"The Great Gulariss Barbeque" - 11 & Counting

An urban fantasy serial.

Part 13: "The Great Gulariss Barbeque"

Afterwards the clan gathered at the lakeside, the humans drying off with towels. Aunt Jenna stopped Andrew from taking one.

"Hold on, you still have one more thing left to do." She called Duke over and the large red gulariss leaned down to him. He sniffed his dark woolen robe and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them, staring at Andrew.

"Year after year it never ceases to amaze me how much of him I see in each of you," Duke said. "Your hair is just like his and you have his eyes - so intense."

"You mean Erik?" Andrew asked, remembering the story, "You knew him?"

He nodded.

"But that would make you..."

"The Counting Ceremony" - 11 & Counting



An urban fantasy serial.

Part 12: The Counting Ceremony


What was first a feeling of being watched escalated into pure fear. Andrew could sense something following him. A branch snapped behind him. He took off, sneakers slipping as he struggled to keep a lead. Something was chasing him now and gaining with every step. He didn't dare turn around, afraid that whatever it was would tackle him down to the ground. Instead he barreled blindly through the forest, regardless of the stitch ripping painfully up his side the faster he went.

He slowed as he neared the crest of a hill but delighted when he could see the low stone wall just beyond it. His feet stumbled to keep up with his momentum as he ran downhill. If I can just get to the wall, he told himself, I'll be okay. I just gotta get to the wall! He didn't know why he felt this way but he didn't have any time to think about it.

Andrew tried to jump the wall but slipped in his haste, his knee banging against it as he tumbled forward. His arms flailed, trying to protect his head as he ducked into a roll. He landed hard on his back, the air rushing out of his lungs. For a few moments he couldn't get a good breath. His throat was tight and burned from running. He couldn't get enough air and hyperventilated. He stared up at the trees above him. Whatever it was, it wasn't vaulting over the wall.

He stayed down until he could breathe without gasping. He pulled himself carefully up, peering just over the top of the wall, ready to duck back down if it attacked.

"Secret Friends" - 11 & Counting

An urban fantasy serial.

Part 11: Secret Friends
The two boys traveled just beyond the low stone wall bordering Aunt Jenna's farm, Andrew barely keeping up with TJ's lanky strides. He must live around here, Andrew thought, he seems to know exactly where he's going without having to look around for landmarks. He couldn't see the grin on the TJ's face.

When they arrived at Peddler's Creek, TJ offered Andrew his fishing pole and the bucket of worms. "You get this one started and I'll go find a stick for ya."

"Okay," Andrew said uncertainly. He had absolutely no idea how to put a worm on a hook. His father usually did that for him. He wasn't about to tell TJ that though. He let the other boy run off. He reached his hand into the bucket and pulled one out, mushing it a bit between his fingers, enjoying the slimy texture. Worms were really neat. His dad had told him that if you cut one up it would eventually grow into two separate worms, and while he wasn't sure he believed that, from then on he thought worms were pretty cool.

He held the squirming worm in one hand and the lure attached to the pole in his other hand. Should he tie the worm like a knot? Would that work? He stared at the shiny metallic scales on the lure, which reflected little rainbows just above the surface of the water.  He looked down into the creek, but he didn't see any fish.

A hand shoved his back hard, thrusting him forward. For half a second he flipped upside down, heard a laugh and caught a glimpse of the sun before hitting the freezing creek water. The water cushioned his fall, flooding his nose and into his mouth before his feet hit the bottom and he pushed himself out of the water, coughing and snorting out water. TJ was on the shore just above him laughing hysterically.

"Boundaries" - 11 & Counting

An urban fantasy serial.

Part 10: Boundaries

Aunt Jenna called the Sheriff's Office the next day, but the call was short and no one came by the house. Andrew tried to ask her who Mr. Pender was, but every time she changed the subject. Eventually he stopped asking. Soon Andrew had enough on his hands with the upcoming Counting Ceremony to worry about some mysterious man. By Saturday, he was completely forgotten.

* * *

The Day of the Counting Ceremony seemed like any normal summer day at the farm. The sun came up early as usual, stinging his eyes, first awakening to the red inside of his eyelids before rolling on his side and opening them, staring at the pile of clothes on the floor. He sniffed deeply.

Aunt Jenna was in the kitchen, making breakfast. He could pretend to sleep for another hour or so, she had miraculously offered to let him sleep in today since he had been working so hard, but he found it hard to sleep when he still had so many questions. He threw back the covers and dragged himself out of bed.

Eleven & Counting - Part 9

An urban fantasy serial.

Part 9 - "The Promise & The Stranger"

The rest of the evening passed in a blur to Andrew. He had nearly worn out his voice from talking so much with his new family. Even so, he hadn't enough time to really get to know any of the Gulariss before Aunt Jenna announced they had to head back to the farmhouse. The fish-like dragons had even spoken of more caves and rooms within the Den that made Andrew squirm with delight. How he yearned to run through all of them and explore!

"Please, Aunt Jenna? Can I please spend the night in the Den with everyone?"

"No Andrew."

"But I just got here and I--"

"I'm sorry, but we have much to do at home, and likewise your brethren have much to do here," she said, but not unkindly.

"It's not fair," he whined. Just when something interesting was happening, it had to get cut short.

"My dear, you'll have plenty of time to explore every nook and cranny, I promise. But, right now we have to go."

Eleven & Counting - Part 8

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Feel free to begin here or return to the Index.
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Part 8 - "Meet the Family"

Andrew did want to meet the other fish-dragons, (Though he supposed the correct term was Gulariss-es? Gulariss-i?) but he also wanted to study the complex shell mosaics along the walls.

The designs flowed in and out of another, like those optical illusion designs where you can't tell where one begins and another starts. The gently swaying lanterns cast shadows along their edges, some flickering to life, he could swear the gills moved in and out. He wished he had brought a camera with him; then again, it would have never made the journey down here to the bottom of the lake, no matter how "waterproof" it might have been.

Eleven & Counting - Part 7

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It all started here...
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Andrew didn't know how much longer he could keep his breath held. He had no idea how much further they had to go to get to the Dragon's Den. Was there really anything down here in the lake?

A grinning face interrupted his worries. His dragon only paused for a moment before he swam past, darting all over. The little fellow hadn't been nearly that quick on land, but he supposed he didn't look mostly like a fish for nothing. He could see little gills flaring in and out excitedly. Andrew swallowed his last bit of air, still watching Aunt Jenna kick forward. She swam like a frog, arms and legs wide then straight again. He couldn't swim like that, it tired him out too quickly.

When Aunt Jenna swam into a dark hole, he nearly bolted upwards for the surface, looking up briefly. From down here it looked so far away, a blurry patch of yellow light in the murky lake water. Even now he was tired, and very suddenly his throat burned for air. Every part of him screamed at him to leave.

Eleven & Counting - Part 6

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It all started here...
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"You didn't answer my question," Andrew said after some timed had passed, "You told me where it -- I mean he -- came from but I wanted to know why I got it."

He indicated the fish-dragon curled in his lap, its fantail curled around it like a cat, the gills flapping as it breathed in and out. It wasn't that he didn't have a million other questions, (like how it was breathing air in the first place!) but perhaps that one was the most urgent because he had a feeling this was serious.

"The Queen's eggs have always been passed down through our family. Yours was the last to be hatched."

As if he didn't have enough questions already. He frowned.

"So Erik, he was my...?"

"Your great, great, great," she had to count on her fingers to keep track, "great grandfather." She smiled.

"Do we have a photo of him?"

"Oh my darling," she laughed, "They didn't have cameras back then."

"What about a painting?"

She shook her head, "I'm afraid not."

"Then how do we know for sure? How do I know you're not just making this up?"

"Besides the egg, you mean?" She said softly.

He thought for a moment before saying, "Yes." She didn't seem angry.

"So you really don't believe me?"

"I need proof!"

"He's not proof enough?"

Andrew looked down again at the little dragon, his little dragon, he reminded himself. He picked up him in his hands and turned him around, waking him up. He turned him over again and again looking for a seam or a screw or anything that might indicate he wasn't as real as he seemed. Is it terrible that I want to find something to disprove him, he thought. The little creature giggled and smiled at Andrew even though he was dangling him upside down. He finally let him rest on his shoulder, his little whiskers gripping him tightly for balance. He yawned.

"I think he's real," Andrew said, "But I don't know about the rest... I mean, it's not that I think you're a liar or anything..."

"That's good to know!" She said, laughing again. He was glad to see she hadn't lost her sense of humor.

"But," he continued, "Did my parents know? Why haven't you ever told me before? Why now? Does everyone else know but me?"

"Oh Andrew," she started, pulling him into a hug, "No, not everyone. Only a few of us know. It's for their safety," she gently petted the dragon, "as well as ours. Believe me dear, I've wanted to tell you so much, every summer that you've come here."

"Why didn't you then?"

"It wasn't time yet."

"So how did you know it was time now?"

She sighed. He could tell her good humor was wearing down under his constant barrage of questions.

"I'm sorry,"  he said quickly, "I just want to know."

"I know you have lots of questions." She winced and stood up carefully, motioning for him to get up as well. "Come with me," she said, "It's high time I introduce you to them."

"Who? You don't have any close neighbors."

"They're not neighbors, they're family."

"How come I haven't met them before?"

Aunt Jenna laughed, "Well, you haven't been to the bottom of the lake yet, have you?"

"What's down there?"

"Our family's dragon den." She grinned.

With those words his imagination thundered on miles ahead, trying to determine what a dragon den could possibly look like. Was there lots of treasure? Maybe some suits of armor or artifacts? No, that was silly. Obviously he was nowhere near a castle or anything even remotely related to ancient history. Still, did dragons really like treasure? He realized just how little he really did know. It was true that he loved to swim in the lake, but he had never gone deeper than he would have in a swimming pool. He had always been afraid of seeing a giant fish or a monster lurking down there.

One time he thought he had seen something down there, had even felt an impossibly large fin (or had it been just some water weeds?) brush against his toes. He had flailed ashore, afraid to go back in until Jenna waded in and stood there for a whole ten minutes, proving it was safe. He had been seven then. The thought of going anywhere near the bottom of the lake frightened him.

"I can't hold my breath that long. I can't even really swim that well," he lied.

"Nonsense, I've seen you swim. You're just like your mother." She laughed. "You're probably more fish-like than he is," she said pointing to the dragon who was still perched on his shoulder and fast asleep again, still clinging tightly. "Now no more questions and fussing. Go get your swimming suit. We only have a few hours left of daylight."

"No, it's too cold."

"Andrew," she said, a little more sternly.

"Please, I don't want to go," he whined.

"Andrew, I'm not going to ask again. You'll be perfectly safe as long as you stay with me."

He shuffled his feet, unsure what else to say. He knew she would carry him there if she had to. That was the tone she always used when he was in trouble.

"I would never do anything to endanger you. You're my favorite nephew and a strong boy. You'll be just fine."

He blushed a little and turned away. Nodding slowly he mumbled an okay and trudged to his room, the little dragon still attached to his shoulder. It whistled, creating a strange gurgling tune.

When he had finally gotten his swim-trunks on, he strapped on his favorite pair of velcroed sandals. He tightened them. He figured he would wear them in the water to help him sink a little better. The thought of that suddenly scared him. Was he really going to do this? But Aunt Jenna words repeated. She wouldn't do anything to hurt him. She had always protected him. And a part of him did want to see the inside of a dragon's den.

It was a ten-minute walk down to the lake. The fish-dragon toddled along on behind Andrew who stuck close to Aunt Jenna. She had changed into a one-piece swim-suit under a thin white cover-up. Her skin was wrinkled and he could see the veins standing out on her legs as she walked along the dusty path, still barefoot. She was strong though from her life spent working on her farm. When he was younger she'd wrestle with him, but now he was beginning to see her age more, not nearly as energetic as she had been when he was little. She was still feisty though and he loved her for that. She was the opposite of his mom, who was always so reserved and quiet.

Soon they were standing at the lake's edge. The little dragon did not wait for an invitation and dove into the water. Andrew nearly leapt in after it but stopped when it resurfaced and looked up at them both expectantly.

"My word! I've never seen a hatchling so eager! I had to push Esmeralda into the lake!" She laughed.

"Who's Esmeralda?"

"You'll see very soon," she said, "Come along now."

Together they waded into the lake, her cover-up ballooning slightly in the water. He winced at the chilly temperature, bringing his legs close together as goose-pimples rippled along his skin. She was already at the edge of the lake shelf where he knew it dropped off deeper, so he hurried along wrapping his arms tightly as if that helped him be any less cold. It was up to his chest now.

"Just bob a little to get used to the water. We'll pass the thermocline on the way down and it will be much warmer."

"What's a thermocline?"

"You'll see."

He sighed. After a few moments soaking his head underneath the muddy water, he found he could unclench his arms and spread them out, the water still cold, but feeling better. At least it was shaping up to be a warm night, but it was still warmer outside than in the water.

"Alright now follow me. Take a big breath. It's not very deep, but it is a stretch. Remember to release the pressure just like I taught you," She added, pinching her nose and making a blowing noise.

With a splash she bent over and dove deep down into the lake, the little dragon following after her. Andrew filled his lungs with air, as much as he could manage, and he dove down, making a big splash as he kicked down, propelling himself down, trying not to blow out too much air as he cleared his nose, releasing the vice of pressure squeezing his forehead.

Never losing sight of her white cover-up swishing like a ghostly fantail, he followed her deeper and deeper than he had ever dove before.

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Continue to Part 7?
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Eleven & Counting - Part 5

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This is Part 5 but it all started here...
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"Hold on a sec," Andrew interrupted. "What does this story have to do with anything? Where did the egg come from?"

"If you would let me finish, Andrew," Aunt Jenna said, "I'll be happy to tell you. Here, help me dry him off."

The little fish-like dragon was clean now, no longer gooey from the egg. His mottled colors were even more vibrant and his scales shimmered like the inside of a oyster. Blue, green, pink. Andrew had a betta fish once, and he remembered that the males were always more colorful than the females. They were like peacocks, using colors to attract mates. The thought of more dragons like this one intrigued him. He took the towel from Aunt Jenna and was surprised when the little dragon curled up into the towel like a cat, rubbing against it and drying off.

"Why do we have to dry it off? You said it was a water dragon." He felt ridiculous drying off a fish.

"Lake dragons are very particular about their water, as you will see. May I finish?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a sigh.

"Maybe I won't finish if that's your attitude."

"No!"

Aunt Jenna smirked.

"I mean, you should finish."

"No more interruptions?"

"I promise."

The baby dragon opened its wide mouth and made a noise that was halfway between a gurgle and a chirp. It reminded him of those plastic bird whistles you filled with water, or at least how he played them, which sounded more like a bird gargling water. He gently dried it off, surprised at how soft its fins were. They were smooth as pebbles, flexible as rubber, yet sturdy. The tiny fish-dragon curled up in his lap, keeping his eyes fixed on Aunt Jenna as she continued.


As I was saying, Erik wished to save the Fae maiden, even though there was a price to be paid. He did not know what the price was, but it did not matter to him at the time. He was in love for the first time.

"Andalaise, please grant my wish," he said.

"If I bond with you," she replied, "my connection will be restored. But know this, you may never leave this forest, lest we both shall die and fade from this world."

"I would never leave this room if I could be with you always."

"You are truly a fool to say such a thing. But how I love you. Take my hand and vow to me then. Cursed are you if you break it, blessed are you if you keep it. You, and all your descendants as well."

He held her hand tightly. "I vow to never leave this forest."

In that very instant, the bond was created between them. They could feel it in their bones. Later that night, Erik took Andalaise as his wife. They lived happily together in the forest, teaching each other the ways of their peoples and they prospered in the bounty of the land during their first harvest.

As their first Winter set in, she was already heavy with child. Their son, Liam, was born in the middle of a terrible storm. The blizzard continued relentlessly for seven days and seven nights. They were running low on food and Andalaise grew weaker each day. Erik gave up his portions to feed her that she might be able to feed their son. Each day the game grew more scarce. He knew he could find more food outside the forest, but knew he could not leave it. They would both die. Their son was scarcely a few days old and would die without their care. However, they would all die soon regardless without any food.

Facing such utter despair, he wept at the lake where he had rescued his dear Andalaise. His cries awakened the Silver Gulariss, the Queen of the Lake Dragons. She rose from her winter sleep under the mud at the bottom of the lake and crashed through the icy barrier. She looked down in anger upon Erik who scrambled backwards.

"Begone foul human! You have disturbed my winter slumber. You are not welcome in the realm of the Gulariss," she hissed, spraying water that turned to ice crystals on the air. All about her danced a mist that became like snow in the cold, ice forming along her delicate fantail and fins.

"Forgive me! I beseech you, oh noble one," he cried, "Andalaise, my wife and daughter of the Fae, and our newborn son are dying of hunger. I would do anything you ask if you would give me food for them."

The fish-dragon listened to his plea and her heart softened, for she was not a merciless creature. The winter winds blew, but she seemed not to notice, studying him, staring into his eyes with her own. He found he couldn't look away. They were golden orbs.

"Yes, I see you have bonded with the Fae. You are already in bondage to this forest. What manner of human are you, that you so carelessly throw your life away?"

"I am but a humble man with one wish, to protect those that I love."

"Ah, your heart is indeed pure. I can also feel the Fae powers. They are strong within you. Perhaps then you could be of use to me. Pledge your life to serve me, son of Man, and I will feed your family for a lifetime. They will want for nothing."

"How may I serve you?"

"As Queen of the Gulariss I lay a single egg once every eleven of your human years. Once I have laid seven eggs, I will die. My seventh will come this very Spring."

"Then you wish for me to care for your eggs? But why do they need my care?"

"Normally my mate would care for my eggs, but he was killed, taken as a trophy by greedy Men who valued his colorful scales. Now there is no one to protect my children when I am gone."

He bowed deeply before her. "Then it would be my honor. I will pledge to serve you. I shall take care of your eggs as if they were my own children."

The fish-dragon rose higher and let out a bubbly laugh. "I am deeply touched. You are truly noble, that you would treat me and my kin with such compassion. What is your name, human, that I might address you properly."

"Erik."

"Erik the Kind-hearted, extend your hand." He did so. Using her long whisker, she traced a symbol on his palm. It glowed red hot, burning into his skin.

"Erik, as you protect my children, so my children shall protect yours. Together we shall unite our families in friendship. From this day forward, you belong to the Clan of Gulariss."

He touched his face to the ground, "My Lady Gulariss is both noble and generous. I asked only for food and you have offered me friendship. I cannot thank you enough."

"Rise! Sir Erik of the Gulariss! It is I who should be thanking you. You have improved my mood considerably, for now I have hope for the future. That is beyond worth. But for now, let us think of the present. I shall bring food to your family. Enough to last you through this confounded winter. All I will ask of you now is that you return here on the first day of Spring."

The Queen kept her promise, more than fulfilling her end of the bargain. All through the cold, harsh winter, Erik's family had more than enough to eat, so much that much of it began to spoil and had to be stored deep within the snow banks.

The following Spring, he kept his end of the bargain and met the Great Queen as she came ashore in all of her beauty, to his surprise, walking on her finned limbs as graceful as a gazelle, her slim body held high like a swan's. Her whiskers plucked an oyster from her back, setting it before him. She caressed the surface and it opened, revealing six eggs, each a color of the rainbow: indigo, purple, red, orange, yellow and green.

"My time is nearly at an end. I shall fly to my nesting ground at the center of the forest. I must ask that you come along, so that you may retrieve the egg when I am done."

"Andalaise will guard the others while we are gone."

The Queen nodded to her and she bowed with respect. "Thank you, my Lady Gulariss. Your kindness has brought good health to my family." She turned and showed the small baby that was sleeping peacefully in a sling tied across her back.

"He is but the first of many. I see strong children in your future." Andalaise blushed and smiled.

"Come, Erik. You may ride on my back." She helped him up and he held onto her tightly as she took off, her fins reflecting the light, casting small rainbows over the ground. Andalaise watched them fly high into the sky.

Andalaise began to worry when Erik did not return, but she did not leave Liam or her new children, the six eggs, which she kept in a place of honor. But she need not have worried. Two days later he finally did return, carrying the last of the Queen's eggs: blue as a sapphire.

"And that very egg," Aunt Jenna finished, "Is the same egg that I gave to you today."

Where once Andrew would have clapped, laughed, or said it was an unbelievable story but a good one, he now sat in silence. He couldn't deny the truth, because it was sitting in his lap and smiling up at him.


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Continue to Part 6?
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Eleven & Counting - Part 4

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This is Part 4 but it all started here...
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Andrew couldn't understand how Aunt Jenna behaved like nothing strange was happening.

This whole situation stressed him out, especially because nothing felt strange about it other than the fact that he thought that he should feel strange. He was giving a bath to a fish after all, or what resembled a fish anyway. This was ridiculous.

The fish in question squirted him in the face when he wasn't looking. Aunt Jenna laughed, but he was glaring as the water dripped down. He furiously wiped his face.

Too many questions bounced around in his mind. He knew she might get annoyed with him, but he hated being kept in the dark. He had to have answers.

"I don't get it," he started, "Why did you give it to me? Why didn't you hatch it?"

"Because he isn't mine. He has always been meant for you. Even before you were born, even before your mother was born, even before I was born, he was given to you."

He sighed. All she was doing was making him more confused. Why do adults have to be so confusing?

Her hand rested on his shoulder again. "Andrew, you are a very special boy. Do you know why?"

Adults always say things like that too. Does she want him to answer? He did anyway.

"No."

He knew he was being rude, but he didn't care. It was bad enough he had to stay here for the summer. Why couldn't this have been at least a normal summer like all the others?

"Would you like to hear a true story?"

He shrugged. It was as good as a yes, because he did think that Aunt Jenna was a good storyteller. He was a little old now for stories, but he wouldn't outright deny her the opportunity to tell one. Especially since this one was apparently true, which he normally would have doubted, but after the egg hatched he found he was a little more open to mysterious explanations.

He watched her as she carefully knelt down on the folded bath towel next to him. As she spoke, she scrubbed the small creature clean with a washcloth. It was actually holding still for her, seeming to like her voice. It was almost as if it was listening too. Her voice was magical.

Once upon a time, before you and I were born, this land was a forest: a world of trees, tall as the mountains, packed so close together you could hardly see the ground. Before long, an explorer came to settle on this land, having heard that it was good land. He was a good man, strong not only in body but heart as well. His name was Erik and he built a dwelling on this very spot.

He chose this place because it was close to a deep lake. Yes, the same lake that sits here today, just down the road. He swam like a seal and dove to the bottom of the lake. He discovered the lake was filled with fish -- fish so big they would not fit in this bathtub, even some that were as big as himself.

One day while hunting these fish underwater, a body fell into the lake above him, sinking fast down past him. It was a woman, bound to a rock, sentenced to die in the depths of the lake. Using his spear, he freed her and brought her to shore. He laid her on the ground, admiring her beauty. He had never seen anyone with such long, white hair and her skin had a hue like polished copper. She was wounded but breathing. When she opened her eyes, he realized she was not human.

"What manner of human is this," she asked, "who steals a Fae from the hand of death only to slay her with such hatred?"

"I cannot hate that which I have never met," he replied and threw away his spear.

"And if I slay my rescuer?" She drew dangerously close, her eyes so strange and wild.

He smiled. "To die by such lovely hands must surely be the most pleasurable way to die."

"Truly you are a foolish human," she said, "But I like you. I am called Andalaise."

"I am Erik."

Erik took her into his arms and into his home, where he dressed her wounds and gave her food and drink. They spoke together as the sun disappeared behind the forest and continued talking until it began to rise again. Erik had fallen in love with Andalaise, and she with him.

"I will always remember your kindness, Erik."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes, I must go."

"No, stay with me. Be my wife."

"I cannot."

"Why?"

"I am dying. The humans who threw me into your waters cut down my home, the tallest tree in the forest. It was my tie to this world. I shall fade from this world when the sun touches the highest point in the sky."

"Is there nothing I can do?"

"You have made the end of my life peaceful. That is enough."

"No, I will not let you die! I do not wish to be alone again now that I have found you."

"I can grant your wish, but it comes with a price."


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Continue to Part 5?

Eleven & Counting - Part 3

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This is Part 3 but it all started here...
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Andrew froze, afraid to move at all, afraid he would drop the egg, or worse, that whatever came out decided Andrew looked delicious enough for its first meal. He heard a high-pitched chirp. As he held his breath, he could hear the cracks open as they spider-webbed all over the surface.

Up through the center burst an opaque horn. He leaned back as it disappeared and thrust upward again, the little horn snapping off, falling to the ground. The egg split open and a smooth magenta head poked through. It took it a few tries to slide out between the crack. The creature opened its toothless mouth in its first breath of air. It pushed through more, revealing catfish-like whiskers on its cheeks that reached outwards like feelers on an ant, carefully inspecting the air and rubbing against his hand as he carefully held it out towards it. It chirruped, and squirmed, opening two black eyes that stared deeply into his own.

His fears faded. He felt a pang of worry over the creature as it wobbled this way and that trying to break out. He wanted to help it, but he remembered what Aunt Jenna had said about the baby chicks. If you helped them, they would never be able to help themselves. He sat back, setting it on his lap, watching it, waiting, wanting to help but holding back. His hands were shaking so he held them together. It was taking forever, but to him it was happening so fast, he was caught up in every detail.

Fins slipped out of the other cracks, sending shell bits tumbling down the sides. It screeched as pulled itself forward, the shell falling apart behind it. It wasn't until the creature had stumbled forward, shrugging off the egg bits that Andrew could finally see its entire body.

It was a fish! Or was it? It couldn't be a real fish because it was obviously breathing air and looking around curiously, without panic. Its lower fins were able to hold it upright, although it wobbled. Two of the pectoral fins looked more like bird wings and it wasn't until it started to flap them that Andrew realized this definitely wasn't a fish after all.

Its frantic fluttering managed to get a foot off the ground before it tumbled into the dust. It cried out and continued to flap but became stuck on its side, only managing to kick up a dust cloud. Andrew brushed the egg bits off his lap and crawled towards it, again reaching out a hand towards it. What if it bit him?

He touched its tail fin, which looked like the tails of the fancy goldfish he had seen at the pet store. The tail was delicate and brilliantly colored. Robin's egg blue faded into firey orange with yellow and sea green inbetween and covered in black spots which also ran up its back. It squirmed and turned back to see him touching its tail and they both froze. Its eyes were intelligent, not at all like the glassy expression of a normal fish. It blinked, watching him with wide eyes.

Andrew didn't dare move as it slowly righted itself and came forward, its catfish whiskers alert, it's eyes never breaking its stare with him. Slowly it crawled towards him on those weird fins. It opened its mouth and chirupped again. A question? Andrew was lost in its eyes again, eyes that seemed so innocent. It wouldn't bite him. He could feel that. He reached toward it.

He stopped halfway when it leaned forward, meeting his hand, nuzzling against his palm. He nearly pulled back as vibrated, gurgling. Was it purring? That wasn't right, but it was close because it seemed happy. He petted down its back as it arched to meet his hand, even letting him pet its dorsal fin, which felt soft as silk. It stumbled closer to him, feeling him with its whiskers, and examining him. Before he knew it, it had climbed on his lap and he was sitting there staring at it as it stared back at him.

"Hey," Andrew said.

It smiled, its mouth open.

Andrew was about to say something else when it broke its gaze and stared over his shoulder. He turned around to see Aunt Jenna standing there.

"Well, don't just sit there, Andrew. Bring him inside."

"Aunt Jenna, I..." He wanted to apologize, but he also had a million other questions in his mind, the greatest of which was what should he do next. She didn't seem nervous at all. It was as if he had brought home a puppy or any other normal pet.

She knelt down beside him and the creature backed off slightly, but didn't leave his lap. She opened her hand and inside was a blue muffin. She offered it to the creature. It felt the muffin with its whiskers and then snatched it, shoving it into its mouth, chomping down on its own whiskers. It slurped clean the whiskers, smacking its lips, licking them. It leapt forward at her, but Andrew caught it. The creature wasn't too hard to hold onto since it was sticky from the egg fluids.

"The poor thing is starving! I bet you're ready for some dinner too, hmm? Let's get you two cleaned up."

Andrew nodded and stood up, cradling the creature in his arms. They were both sticky and dusty.

"I still don't know what it is."

"What he is," Jenna said, "is a gulariss, a lake-dwelling dragon."

--
Continue to Part 4?

Eleven & Counting - Part 2

An urban fantasy serial.

Part 2 - Reality Checks Out


"Seriously, what is it?" Andrew asked. He always pictured a dragon egg looking something like this. That thought was ridiculous though. It couldn't be real. He was old enough to know better.

Aunt Jenna shrugged. She had to be hiding something.

"Is this a joke?" he asked.

"Andrew, now would I pull a prank like that on you?" Aunt Jenna asked, grinning.

She had pulled a few good pranks on him before. None of them ever went this far though. How could she make something that moved like that? But it felt too real to be a bunch of Mexican jumping beans or something like that. He knew this because one time he had secretly handled one of Jenna's incubating chicken eggs that was ready to hatch, just to see what it felt like. This egg moved like one of those. He had felt life inside.

"Sissy!" That was his mother calling.

"It's about time for your parents to get going," Aunt Jenna said, "Let's go see them off, shall we?"

Andrew looked down again at this present. He was about to ask her something more about the egg, but she had already disappeared inside. He didn't know what to do with himself. Andrew was afraid to take the egg out of its box. It wasn't that he thought he might drop it or that he would break it somehow. He didn't want to touch it again. He put the lid back on and had to press it down hard to get it to shut, making the air squeal out. The box rattled in his arm and he nearly dropped it. If this was just a painted Mexican jumping bean, it was worthy of a Guiness World record.

"Andrew?" That was his father that time.

He didn't want to make him mad, so he put the present down, nestling it behind a patch of rosemary and hurried up the back porch steps into the house. They were all there waiting for him in the living room.

Just like the start of all of his summers, there they all were, lined up like a photograph. His parents, standing behind his luggage and his Aunt Jenna exchanging some last words with them in hushed tones. They gave him their attention as he entered. Had anything changed this time? He supposed their hair mostly, especially his father's which was receding further every year.

"Did you thank Aunt Jenna for your present?" His mother asked.

"Thank you Aunt Jenna," he said very quickly.

"Don't forget to give your parents a hug and a kiss goodbye," Jenna said.

How did she disarm a conversation so easily? It was one of the reasons why he didn't run away from the farm every summer (although admittedly he had tried once).

It wasn't that his parents weren't nice, they were just strict. Jenna said it was because he was an "only" child. Andrew hated that term, because everyone said it made him selfish and greedy behind his back. He pretended not to hear. Jenna seemed to be the only one who didn't think so.

He dutifully gave his mother and father a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and they returned the same. He could tell his mother was a little choked up, she always was when she wasn't going to see him for a while, but she managed a smile this time.

"Take good care of your aunt," his father said, "You're a young man now."

"I will." His dad smiled and Andrew stood a little taller. "Have a good summer," Andrew added and then, "I'll miss you."

"We'll miss you too," his mother said as they walked out arm in arm to the car.

Andrew stood on the porch with Aunt Jenna to watch his parents' car back down the gravel drive. Andrew and Jenna waved as his dad turned the car around and drove back across the boards bridging the stream, his mother looking back one last time before they were out of sight. The rumbling of the car's engine faded under the buzzing cicadas and then they were gone. He wondered if he didn't just imagine his time off the farm. That new thought scared him a little. He may have been older now, but it didn't make things any easier to deal with, that was for sure.

A hand rested on his shoulder. Jenna's touch comforted him a little, but it didn't completely drive away his thoughts. He blurted it all out before he could stop himself: "Aunt Jenna, why do I have to stay here every summer?"

"No one's making you stay," she said. Technically his parents were, but he knew what she meant: I'm not making you stay.

He looked away. He didn't like seeing her sad, but still, it just wasn't fair. "I didn't mean it like that," he said.

"Where did you put it?" she asked.

Now he felt really guilty. He pointed to the backyard.

"It needs you," she said, and he swore that she had a different look to her then. He didn't know what it was but he felt an urgent need to go outside to check on it. She went into the kitchen. He could hear the faucet running as she clambered in the cabinets searching around for a pan.

He knew when she was cooking like that she wanted to be alone, so he headed back outside and sat down on back porch steps, staring at the present between the rails of the porch. He blinked. Did the present just move again? Maybe this was some kind of dream and he'd wake up back in his bed at home. It would be the first day of school and summer would be a memory.

When it lurched forward and toppled out of the garden, over the low bricks, he rushed forward, tripping over his feet. He scooped it up out of the rosemary and pried off the lid, throwing it aside. What he saw nearly made him faint, his vision turning dark for a moment in his excitement.

He traced the crack running along the egg with his fingertips. The egg lurched again, the crack lengthening, branching off into several smaller tributaries. He dug his fingers underneath and lifted it gently from the box. It felt like a warm mug of hot cocoa and he held it close to him, being careful not to crush it, listening for a heartbeat.

He only knew one thing for sure as it started to hatch. This was no practical joke.

--
Continue to Part 3?
--

Eleven & Counting

An urban fantasy serial.

Part 1 - Aunt Jenna's Present

"Sometimes life's not fair, Andrew," his mother said, herding him towards the aged sedan, dragging along his two suitcases, the same two he'd used since he was five.

Andrew's parents always made him go every year. He'd have much rather been in his room finishing the game that he had saved up his whole allowance for. He was proud of it because he had been able to save up for it himself, so it was technically his game. It was a really good one too, one that he could never have waited for another birthday (it was a month ago) or Christmas (it was only summer now) to get. It wouldn't be until school started up that he would get to play it again. It wasn't fair. Would it really be that much more trouble for them to send his little TV with him?

Andrew folded his arms in defiance, wearing a thick scowl directed at his father who was glancing at him occasionally through the rear-view mirror. After the first fifteen minutes though he was tired of holding his face in a permanent grudge and relaxed, leaning against the window, resting his cheek against the warm glass, watching a bit of his breath fog it up. He drew a frowny face in it. It wasn't hot yet, but he knew later in the day the whole car would be. He missed the air conditioning already.

"Dad, can I roll down the window?"

There was a pause before the question was repeated and a positive answer was given. Andrew furiously cranked the handle, again wishing they had one of those cars with automatic everything, including A/C. It didn't roll down all the way but it at least went halfway. His cares flew out the window immediately, as the blasting wind refreshed him, blowing his brown hair in all directions. He sighed. The ride was tolerable now. He couldn't wait until he could drive a car; maybe one of those convertibles so he could put the top down on a day like this.

The scenery wasn't so bad, he decided. He could see really far, across the farmlands which seemed to go on forever. They all looked the same to him, a barn here, a tall silo there, long lines of tall trees and endless fences. There were plenty of cows too, and he was glad he couldn't smell them. The corn rows were tall too, but he couldn't see any ears on them yet.

His dad turned off the highway and rolled down a gravel drive. Andrew didn't like the sound, it was loud and the car rocked around on the uneven ground. They slowly passed over a wide stream that was bridged by long, sturdy boards. He looked down and could see hundreds of black dots swarming in the stream, probably tadpoles. He had convinced himself he was too old for things like that now. How long had it been since he had been here last? He didn't know, but everything seemed shorter now, not nearly as big.

When he was little, Aunt Jenna's farm had seemed so huge, like it had it's own zip code. But now even the trees didn't seem as tall as they once had. And her ranch-style house didn't look nearly as long. He could remember it had taken him a whole afternoon just to walk around it, but that probably was because he had been looking for buried treasure. He smiled a little despite his mood.

Coming down the driveway was Aunt Jenna herself, slim and barefoot, even on the gravel, and arms waving, a wide-brimmed sunhat shading her face. "Sheri!"

"Sissy!" His mother opened the door before his father had completely stopped the car.

The two of them met with open arms and hugged each other tightly, Aunt Jenna nearly lifting his mother off the ground.

"So good to see you," she said. Her gaze turned toward the car where she spotted Andrew. "Is that little Andrew!"

"I know, he's growing like a weed," his mother replied and then directly to him, "Come out and say hello to Aunt Jenna."

I'm not five anymore, Mom, he thought. He knew how to be polite. He opened the door and was hugged as well. It crushed him a little but some small part of him didn't mind so much. Aunt Jenna was pretty nice, although it would have been better if she had some kids his age to play with. She didn't have any close neighbors either.

"How old is he?"

"I'm eleven," he said, but not rudely.

"Eleven already?" Jenna said, "I thought it was next year for sure. I didn't have time to prepare."

He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but his father was approaching now with the suitcases and talking to the two of them. Their words buzzed over his head as most adult conversations tended to do. He was still mostly thinking about how much he'd rather be at home with his game for the summer as he followed them mindlessly up the drive and onto the porch, kicking at the more interesting rocks among the gravel as he went.

"Andrew?"

He looked up to see his mother looking annoyed and she said very carefully, "Aunt Jenna asked you if you would like some lemonade." What she really meant was don't be a jerk, Andrew.

"Yes please," he said to Aunt Jenna who was all smiles, as usual.

Jenna leaned down and said quietly, "I might have something else for you too. Why don't you wait in the backyard? I'll bring it right out soon as I get your folks settled in."

Andrew was relieved to be dismissed and nodded, leaping down the steps and running around to the backyard once he was out of earshot. It blew off a little steam and he felt better.

A herb garden ran along the backside of the house. Aunt Jenna had tried to teach him what all the plants were, but he could never remember all of them. He did know most of them by smell though. He grabbed a leaf between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it gently to release the oils as she had taught him and then smelled his fingers. Mint. Lavender. Basil. He went down the row until his nose was feeling overwhelmed and he backed off.

"Come now, they don't smell that bad," Jenna said, and he stumbled back even more.

She had that knack of sneaking up on him like a ninja. Even when he was little and playing hide-and-seek with her he had never beaten her. Maybe she was a ninja.

"Just smelled too many," Andrew said.

"Don't be in such a rush. If you smell all the roses at once you'll fall over," she said and laughed at her own joke. It was the sort of thing she always said. He didn't laugh, still feeling bummed, but he did smile. She was trying to make him feel good and he appreciated that.

He noticed she had an arm behind her back, and, almost as if she had read his thought, she showed what she was hiding.

"Happy eleventh birthday, Andrew!"

It was a present: a dark green box wrapped traditionally with a golden, hand-tied bow on the top. He had never received a present like this before. Normally everything was held together by tape with colorful, fragile paper that tore if you poked at it too much. She held it out towards him. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry it's so late. Normally I'm on top of these sort of things, but I suppose I'm getting older too."

She was right about that. Every year her packages always came exactly seven days before his birthday. He didn't think much about it until this year, when one didn't come. It had been part of the reason he was a little upset. Had he done something to upset her? But now she did have something for him. Why didn't she send it earlier? Also, hadn't she said she didn't know it was his birthday? Was she lying? If so, why?

"Go on," she insisted.

He took the gift, surprised at the weight. It wasn't heavy, but it wasn't as light as it had looked. It definitely wasn't full of knitted sweaters or socks. Not that Aunt Jenna had ever given him anything like that. That was mostly his other aunts. His mom had seven sisters and Aunt Jenna was the oldest, his mother being the youngest. He always wondered why he had never seen any of his cousins at her farm. So far as he knew, he was the only one to ever spend summer vacation with her. It's not like his parents were gone or anything. Why was he the only one to suffer? It just wasn't fair.

He knew Aunt Jenna meant well. He really liked her, he did, it's just that for once he wanted to be able to have the summer that all of his friends had: to go to the amusement park, to hang out at the mall and watch movies, even just walking to the convenience store for cheap soda and snacks sounded a lot more fun than the farm. Jenna didn't even have a TV. She did have a radio, but all it picked up ever was country stations and an occasional spanish one that sounded like it was all the way from Mexico. In short, being here was not how he wanted to spend his vacation. Even so, he appreciated the gift.

"Thanks," he said, trying to sound enthused for her sake. She must get lonely out here when I'm not here to keep her company, he thought.

"Don't thank me yet! You haven't even opened it, silly," she replied.

He experimentally tugged on one of the bow tails and the ribbon pulled apart fluttering down. He squeezed his fingernails under the box, holding it with his other arm and tugged. It came off with a whump as the air released. He placed the box lid under the box and looked inside.

Surrounded by a nest of soft white cotton sat a royal blue egg, as big as a whole pineapple. He touched the irridescent surface and it was warm. It moved at his touch. He pulled away his hand.

He looked up at Aunt Jenna, his eyes wide. "W-what is this?"

She was still smiling and put a hand on his shoulder. "Well now, Andrew, that's a secret. I suppose if you really want to know, you'll have to hatch it yourself."



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Continue to Part 2?
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