He looked out the window, seeing the ponies walk about town. The little town seemed to bustle with life and activity. With a sigh, the dragon pulled the curtains across the small oval that was his looking glass into the world, cutting off light in the dim room he called him. He huddled with his back to the wall, trying hard not to feel sorry for himself.
His name was Tarrey. An odd name that ponies often got wrong, but then again pony names were odd to him. In a way, it seemed to even out. Tarrey was pygmy dragon from the cold Crystal Mountains. He use to live with his mother and father, and all seven of his siblings up there. They had a cave, and acres upon acres of untouched forest all to themselves. Tarrey and his mother, River Heart were happy; however, that happiness was not to last. It wasn’t long before something went wrong. Horribly wrong. Tarrey wasn’t sure what it was, but one day he was told to grab his favorite toys and follow his brothers and sisters.
And so they flew away from their home. His mother, brothers, and sisters, but not his dad. Tarrey didn’t understand, he was too young to understand then. Tarrey rubbed his nose, forcing himself off the floor to go to the small kitchen, looking for anything that looked edible that wouldn’t take to much work to prepare. Some potato crisps? He looked down at his overweight belly, and put the crisps back. Searching the cupboards, he found a few gems left in a stash his mom had been saving. With another heavy sigh, he pulled them down and munched on one morosely. He didn’t like being alone.
He was the youngest out of seven, and while most dragons would have left home long before now, he couldn’t. An accident had happened when he was just a hatching that made it near impossible for him to function on his own, to an extent. Sure he could work hard without supervision, and even do basic house chores with no one home for a day, if he knew he would be left alone for a week or longer, his mind started to shut down. Then the shadows came for him.
Tarrey bit too hard on a ruby, shattering it into a hundred little pieces, looking over his shoulder to the room that he just came out of. He knew they were there. The shadows. The doubts and fears that crippled him, that restricted him to the house when no one was around. How he wish he could live his life without them. No pony seemed to understand. He very much doubted his own mother truly understood.
It wasn’t depression, not exactly. It was loneliness. It was as if his will seemed to sucked out of his body, leaving him a dull, lusterless, husk of his own self. Tarrey was a cleaner for the town, but while he did that to help his mom and get some bits, he was a story teller at heart. He had written stories for the local magazine, Short Stories and Other Tales, many times. He loved the written word, and while his spelling and grammar were atrocious at times, his stories always inspired and moved those who read them. Even in the dimness of the empty house, the thought of those who had written him, telling him how much they loved his stories, made him smile.
Looking back into the dark room, he could feel his smile slip from his face. Those shadows. Those damn shadows. Why did they torment him? He wished he could be like the ponies he met in the streets, or even his best friends who lived around the corner. It didn’t matter if anyone was around, they all kept living life, while his seemed to stop if his mother was gone. He didn’t understand it. He raised the last of the gems in his claws, ready to thrown them on the ground and roar for all to hear. He was alive, but in pain! He wanted someone to come and take the pain away. Pain he didn’t understand, but knew was there. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his hands, and just put the gems on the counter, walking back into the darkness of the room, snorting just enough flame to illuminate his chair and his many magazines. ‘Heroic Tales’, ‘Entertainment Today’, ‘Silly Sayings’, and ‘Mysteries and Beyond’ were just a few that littered the table next to his reading chair.
Sitting down heavily, he just stared at the door, waiting for something that he knew wouldn’t come. He wanted something, anything, to stir him from his misery of being self isolation. A knock on the door from the mail mare, a visit from his friend, or a letter from one of his readers. Tarrey didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out, feeling his lungs whooshing, bringing a relief that felt hollow and empty.
What a strange thing. All that separated him from the world outside that he wished he could be apart was just a door. Yet, he sat still, staring at it, wishing someone else would open it. Why was he so weak? Why couldn’t he do things on his own? Why did he have to rely on his mother to push him? It had been almost thirty years since his hatch day, and yet he felt as defenseless and weak as the moment he broke out of the egg.
He slowly leaned forward, and rested his face in his claws. How badly he wanted to cry, to howl, to roar his frustrations aloud and let the world know his pent up frustrations with his own inability to do anything; but, he didn’t. He didn’t even whimper. It was like he was trapped in his mind. No, he wasn’t separated from the world by a door of wood. He was separated from the world by another world. The world that his mind perceived everything to be. The things that had happened to him when he was a dragonling, the move, the lack of friends. He looked up again, staring at the door, wishing, wanting, praying, for someone strong enough to open it, and let him out of the cage that was his mind.
Author's Note
Again, this is a reflection of my actual feelings at the time of writing. This is not a piece that will appeal to a lot, but still, it is something I'm putting out because I'd rather share my feelings in story form, rather than look for pity or sympathy with blog posts to get attention.
