The Dragon at Twelve O’Clock

It seemed as if everyone in the world was asleep except for me. I lay awake in bed, troubled in thought. What if there is no magic in the world? I pondered. What if all the dreamers and creative people have no point to be here?

As I stewed in my troubles, I heard the grandfather clock downstairs chime. Once, twice, and so on, until it had rung twelve times.

Rap. Scratch. Something was pounding at my window! I huddled underneath my blankets in fear. What could this frightening thing be?

SMASH! The window broke! Something tumbled onto the ground with a thud.

I peered out from under my covers. A creature the size of a small dog was standing in the shattered glass. It had a long, wispy tail and large bat-like wings. It shook its pointed head, the small quills on it waving about; its scaly skin sparkled in the moonlight; its eyes, like shining moonstones, looked about my dark room.

The creature in my room was a dragon! I was excited but remained calm so it would not be frightened. I tossed my blankets aside and approached the creature with care.

The dragon looked at me with sparkling eyes as I drew near. “Hrrr?” it purred, rustling its wings. It took a step toward me, its tail swishing back and forth.

If only I could feel the scales of this dragon, I thought, and held out my hand to touch its beautiful scales. It walked forward and rubbed its head against my hand.

The scales were soft and cool to the touch. Wow, I thought in awe, I bet I’m the only person alive who has touched a dragon!

BONG! The clock downstairs chimed again. The dragon stood erect and dashed away from me in sudden fear; it leaped out the open window and disappeared into the night sky.

And I knew, from that moment on, that there is magic in the world. I should write a story about this, I thought, as I fell asleep.