The
main chamber of the Dragon Cave buzzes with the voices of one hundred and fifty
dwarves summoned by their sire. That’s me, Father Dragon; red, big, deep gaze,
and fluffy blue and yellow mane – absolutely debonair. Yeah, humble too. This
is the Beginnings Blogfest hosted by L.G. Keltner but I won’t tell you about my early years. I will
save that for another time. But come along, the dwarves must hear as well.
The
dwarves are busy unpacking big boxes that arrived at the Dragon Cave this
morning.
“Gather
around, everyone!” I command. My minions quickly obey but they are noisy. They
can sense something unusual is going to happen. My voice thunders in the
vaulted ceiling of the chamber. “My ninja muse has left me a message.”
Total
silence. They know my muse is challenging and that she laughs at the face of
fear; my fear. They also know my
dragon pride laughs at her laughter.
“She
left it written on a shuriken she conveniently misplaced on my favorite sitting
spot.” My hawk gaze searches for any snickering gestures. “I’ll return it in an
appropriate manner, but in the meantime we have a new challenge.”
A
popping sound makes me turn to the right, where four dwarves are trying to
figure out how to connect battery powered lights enough for a Broadway stage.
“Are
we playing the Phantom of the Opera?” Sessin asks, trying to keep his brunette
braided moustache from entangling with the already entangled cables. He wears a
welding mask instead of his chef hat ever since his beard caught fire in the
kitchen because of my muse’s mischief.
I
shake my head. “No. We are doing our first talk-show or is it a write-show?"
“We’re doing Oprah?” Pancholin asks. The Cave handyman with the Pancho Villa type of moustache rests his hands on his multipocket belt.”
Not
sure if he’s about to take out the metal polisher or the insecticide, I keep my
tone steady. “We are opening the Dragon Cave for main characters of published
books to come and tell people about their adventures.”
Shocked
murmurs precede gasps and exclamations that go in crescendo into multiple
questions and doubts. Who is coming? How can we do this? Where would the show
take place? When?
“But
Sire, no stranger has been allowed in the Dragon Cave before.” Tassin’s voice
comes through his thick curled up silver mustache like the grumbling of an Old
English Shepherd. My dwarf task master also resembles one. “Besides, we know
nothing of show business.”
Sessin
nods in agreement with his father. “Not to mention we are not very good with
technology and modern gizmos.”
“And
shows need an audience.” Pancholin’s nervousness is evident in his need to polish
something, be it the gold coins or Sessin’s welding mask. “What if nobody
comes? What if something goes wrong and they don’t like it? What if there is a
short circuit and everything explodes in our face?”
“The
ninja muse is setting you up, Sire.” Tassin snorts. “With all due respect,
beware her ideas don’t make a fool of you.”
I
straighten up and spread my wings proudly. “What have I told you? The bright
side of having a fear is that it feels darn good when you overcome it. Challenges
are meant to be difficult. Otherwise they would not qualify as such. Beginnings
are scary because they are full of uncertainties about the future. The unknown
waits ahead and we can only see one step at a time. But what did Mayans teach
us?”
“Not
to write calendars on small stones?” Pancholin suggests.
“No,
but I’ll remember that one!” My encouraging smile doesn’t falter. “Each
beginning involves an end, but it is not the end of the world. If anything, it
involves the end of our fear to try something new. It is one thousand times
better to try something and fail than to let our fears defeat us even before
starting. We shall not kill creativity, neither for fear of failure nor dread
of success. We will do this and if we go down in flames. . .” I pause with my
fist up. My dwarves seem taller. “At least we will have a hot experience.”
I
chuckle at my own sense of humor. My dwarves grin.
“We
promise to do our best, Sire.” Tassin taps his fist on his chest. “What is your
bidding?”
“Milin
has the broadest shoulders. He’ll be in charge of the camera. Pancholin will be the
director. You, Tassin, will be the producer. Choose someone for the lights.
Sessin will make sure to get what’s needed. The rest of the dwarves will be the
audience. Prepare everything for some drills. The interview is taking place
tomorrow.”
“Yes,
Sire!” Their soldier-like answer loses effect when I catch Tassin whispering. “What
is a producer?”
Milin,
his silent nephew, shrugs and looks at the big camera as if he were pondering
on poking it with a stick. I roll my eyes.
“Our
guest’s name is Darq.” I give Tassin an envelope with several pictures. Dwarves
crowd around him. Several comments of appreciation arise over Darq’s beauty.
“Will
she stay for long?” Pancholin’s smile is the broadest I’ve seen in the last
years.
“My
cousin and I will fix a feast for her.” Sessin slides an arm around Milin. “Fish 'a la Tikin-Xic', coffee in a crock pot, tepache and
tequila.”
Milin claps his hands,
excited. Sessin goes on. “We’ll give her a basket of exotic fruits, cookies,
and royal chocolate.” He wags his eyebrows at Milin and asks with a cocky grin.
“A foot massage, señorita?”
A mild smoking always
manages to bring my minions back to their senses. “No foot massage and no
flirting with my guest. Darq is married to a fleet commander and bonded to a
robot. Not to mention her security team is a group of mysterious men in black with shiny blasters who will make sure she returns undefiled. Quit the
nonsense and get ready for rehearsal.”
***
An hour has elapsed and I am trying not to squint at all the battery-powered
lights illuminating my lair for this on-air, Internet blog. I feel my mustache
quiver a second before I grin into the video camera being held on Milin's
broad shoulder. Pancholin’s signal and a green light twinkling "on air"
are my cues.
“Welcome! And thank you for
joining me, your host, for "Under the Fireworks," a writerly spot for
protagonists to tell us about their adventures— and misadventures.”
Tassin, sitting on a rock at
my right, holds a placard copy of Jewels of the Sky's cover.
“Give
me a close-up!” Pancholin yells, disturbing my concentration.
Milin
takes two steps forward…
…and then he rolls down
the mound he was perched on.
“Don’t walk closer. Use
the zoom, you moron!” Pancholin scowls while Sessin runs to help his cousin back
to his feet.
I
count to ten and shift a little to the right. I think I sat on my wing. We try
again. “The
name of my first vict— I mean guest— to the Dragon Cave, is Darq. She is
among the best starfighter pilots in the universe of Jewels of the Sky,
a fantasy-science fiction adventure novel I read in less than a week. The
book's author, Catherine E. McLean, managed to successfully take me to where no
other dragon has traveled before. I wanted to return the favor. That is why I asked
Catherine to invite Darq to where no other Wysotti has ever been before— the
Mayan Riviera.”
Dwarves quarreling over
Darq’s picture and arguing who gets to pick her up from the airport and be her tour
guide distracts me.
“Do you mind?” I snarl. “We’re trying to do something here!”
I wonder how fitting Willy Wonka's Oompa-loompas or Dr. Gru’s yellow minions would be for a
red dragon.
Pancholin gives me the cue.
I flash my Dragon’s Sonrisa
Especial. “After reading Jewels of the Sky, I thought Darq should see the
land and people which were at the heart of the curse that affected the destiny
of all the Wysotti and, specifically, Darq’s own heritage and life. And since
Darq had come to Earth, visiting Catherine as a "cultural
ambassador," I contacted the usual authorities...”
I
hear the throttled engine sound of Tassin’s chuckles by my side. “Sire?”
“WHAT?” The inner heat
tells me I’m getting redder than I already am .
He raises the end of a
cable. “Milin forgot to plug in the camera after he fell.”
Under my glare, Sessin darts to plug the
camera in for his cousin. My
ears twitch with annoyance, but my smile returns when the camera is
ready. “Where was I? Ah, yes! Darq is pretty and young, which might not be the
best combination when a human comes to visit a dragon whose favorite snacks
include such delicacies. But Darq is quite the heroine. She is not afraid of
death. Actually, her motto seems to be ‘today is as good as any day to die in a
fight.’”
I hear murmuring around but
I force myself to keep my attention on the lens. “Besides, Darq likes being
rather unpredictable— which reminds me of my own muse's predilections. Last,
but not least, my own grandfather taught me it is not polite to eat one's
guests, especially if said guests have outstanding fighting skills. Being a
Wysotti Indian warrior, Darq can be stunning in more ways than one. My
invitation now goes to you, dear reader, to come back tomorrow to meet this
wonderful character in the pilot episode of ‘Under the Fireworks with Father Dragon’.
As a gift to the audience, Darq is giving away free eBook downloads of Jewels of the Sky today and tomorrow only, at Amazon.com.”
“Give me a close-up of the
book cover.” Pancholin instructs Milin.
“Don’t walk…!” Everyone shouts at once.
Too late. Milin rolls down
the mound and I smack my paw on my brow. I hear a loud crackling. The lights blink
and go off.
“I think we need both help
and luck to pull this off, Sire.” Tassin sits on a rock.
“Send a smoke signal to
Sir Jeff. He's an expert at troubleshooting.” I stand up and go back to my quartz chamber. “I will light another
candle to the Ancestors. This is just the beginning.”
