Post by Cy Skywalker on Jul 28, 2006 15:49:50 GMT -5
This fic was created for a contest whose only instruction was to write a story on “dragons”. Keith, Elise, Ostroff and Rob are based on real people who don’t know I’m writing them.
I began a close friendship with Keith about a month before the dojo moved to the second-floor dance studio in Easton, one year from when I began the study of karate.
The dance studio was larger than our storefront, all wood-paneled and dusty. Classes came and went through its door for a while with only the long tan Asian dragon stenciled on the stairwell door to show we existed behind those walls.
Keith was a blackbelt and I a green, then, and when I walked in to the old dojo for the first time he was around the second corner of the office working the bo staff. In his hands the staff swept, rowed, roll, slide, strike –I just watched his martial movement in awe of that coordinated, balanced beauty. As I learned, it morphed into love or awe or that naive combination of the two, hero-worship, toward him personally. His height, black hair and short beard to my compactness, fluffy red-blonde hair and silence; we would never have made a couple.
One evening he came in late, and we sat together watching the junior class’s matches. Keith looked so distracted, glancing into the woodwork, greeting no one. I touched his shoulder so lightly. “You alright?”
“It’s a little uncomfortable in a new place, not knowing the...people around. And I have to do a lot of thinking about college.”
“Okay.” Pause, for a while, with the delicious sounds of stomping, moving, shouting fighting and sweat-smell.
“Rob’s leading your class in kumite tonight. We’ll try to forget.”
I nodded. “Always.”
A new girl was talking to sensei Ostroff. Tall girl, thin, long unbound white-blonde. I had this immediate desire to keep her from talking to Keith.
We bowed in; obeisance to the masters. Class progressed. We lined up to spar and I, with a sigh and pacing, emerged as the odd number to sit out and rest.
The new girl, Elise, fought very well but differently, probably having progressed farther than a beginner in another martial art style.
Another cycle, hot and alive and shiveringly tiring and wonderful. When I took a rest again Keith and Elise pared up. They started ferocious, fast, he with a kick and she stepped aside, he threw a perfect side-blade to her angling and she blocked it, moved in, he caught and twisted, she broke his hold--
Then I began to see the dragons. Almost transparent, but obscuring their human bodies, almost just outlines, drawn scales of iridescence; they stared at each other as Keith and Elise fought, touched. No one else saw them, I could tell, because the other matched continues and appendages of the long half-dragons swept through them, forging sunbursts of soft light under both skins.
He had given me this vision as a gift, and with it the ability to not be frightened, and to know that he symbolized the old and she the new, just settling who would now watch over us.
The dragons only looked at each other while Keith and Elise fought, only looked at each other. Never had I seen such a creature like these “big lizards”; an almost perfect mix of Asian and European dragon-type of legend. Like dinosaurs each stood on bent legs (in seisan?) Directly under their long lean canted bodies with slightly shorter front legs tucked up just before the long, sinuous necks. The tails also looked boneless, weaving, tufted with thin feathers, and feathers girded the forearms, ankles, spines and heads. Where the feet had three curved talons the hands could only be described as such, hands, with rough -scaled palms and five dextrous short-clawed fingers. The wings were small compared to the bodies, angelic, feathered until the tips of their long bones and canvas-scales. Beauty of the battle incarnate.
Sensei Rob Swidor, teen blackbelt, called the fight to end. The draconic forms faded away, leaving my friend and the new girl to split apart politely. I blinked a few times only before we were reordered for slow katas as a cool-down. I managed to catch a glimpse of the...dragons’ glazed or unfocused human eyes.
We did katas from the most basic up, so that muscle memory took over quickly and I danced, snapped the combat moves. The translucent dragons emerged from the air and waded to their shoulders in the mostly coordinated sea of people the class had become. The soft light of human contact ended up just diffusing, suffusing the dragons, casting Keith the black-green gloss of a rooster’s feathers and Elise gleaming orange-red-white. Their heads darted out, biting but weaving so that no teeth from the thin snouts met ghostly flesh. Identical black almond-eyes stared peacefully in front of head-crowns bedecked with feathers, a pair of bone horns curved like samurai blades, and fleshy whiskers.
They stepped up to each other and fought with hands locking, pushing, swiping, lock again–to my extreme surprise focusing on their movements did not disrupt mine but refined them as if we danced to the same music.
Soundless dragons heads darted and wrenched feathers from the other’s crest. Now they angled, circled, flared the wings’ shoulders, struck and blocked with hands or head in recognizable karate technique. Keith-dragon’s back turned to me, so I could see the brownish-green egg curled lightly in the grip of his tail. Egg or pearl?
He stepped in close, slammed a hand across her neck and the other against her shoulder, surged to throw. She worked with it, disengaged with claws through his wrists, and quick and neat as thought flicked out and bit lightly just under his jaw.
They reset and again stared at each other, now in front of the crowd, We were still moving, I knew where to go, though I could not recall hearing any commands. Still we moved in synch, punch break step strike braw stamp kick. The dragons bowed, long graceful bodies stretched out toward the floor. Keith’s dragon took the egg and handed it to Elise’s with the greatest of dignity, also solemnity that made me wish he wore the human body which I could more effectively comfort.
With something of a snapping effect the dragons and their eerie aura disappeared. I wobbled, just imaginaing that Elise’s sunk into the woodwork of the roof and her eyes plus the egg glowed into its color. In almost my usual state of mind we bowed out. After gathering my gear bag I met Keith by the benches again and looked up at him, just inviting him to speak.
He met my eyes from that distance that is farthest when he’s close enough to smell. “Every place has its dragon. Once we were connected to caves or fields or the greatest temples. Now–these little bastions of karate schools. I don’t want to let go, but I must. Be nice to the girl. I suggest you don’t tell her that you saw.”
We walked toward the stairway and door with some other people. I asked, “Where will you go no, Keith, don’t disappear on me–“
A pause which nevertheless interrupted my horror. Then, “I have to do a lot to get ready for college. I’ll miss all of this..see you next summer maybe, friend.”
He slipped out the door to the sidewalk. I waited inside for my parents and got into a conversation with Rob, who said he’d never heard me speak outside of class. Longing for human contact was overwhelming me at the thought of Keith just walking away alone with his dragon’s memories.
I began a close friendship with Keith about a month before the dojo moved to the second-floor dance studio in Easton, one year from when I began the study of karate.
The dance studio was larger than our storefront, all wood-paneled and dusty. Classes came and went through its door for a while with only the long tan Asian dragon stenciled on the stairwell door to show we existed behind those walls.
Keith was a blackbelt and I a green, then, and when I walked in to the old dojo for the first time he was around the second corner of the office working the bo staff. In his hands the staff swept, rowed, roll, slide, strike –I just watched his martial movement in awe of that coordinated, balanced beauty. As I learned, it morphed into love or awe or that naive combination of the two, hero-worship, toward him personally. His height, black hair and short beard to my compactness, fluffy red-blonde hair and silence; we would never have made a couple.
One evening he came in late, and we sat together watching the junior class’s matches. Keith looked so distracted, glancing into the woodwork, greeting no one. I touched his shoulder so lightly. “You alright?”
“It’s a little uncomfortable in a new place, not knowing the...people around. And I have to do a lot of thinking about college.”
“Okay.” Pause, for a while, with the delicious sounds of stomping, moving, shouting fighting and sweat-smell.
“Rob’s leading your class in kumite tonight. We’ll try to forget.”
I nodded. “Always.”
A new girl was talking to sensei Ostroff. Tall girl, thin, long unbound white-blonde. I had this immediate desire to keep her from talking to Keith.
We bowed in; obeisance to the masters. Class progressed. We lined up to spar and I, with a sigh and pacing, emerged as the odd number to sit out and rest.
The new girl, Elise, fought very well but differently, probably having progressed farther than a beginner in another martial art style.
Another cycle, hot and alive and shiveringly tiring and wonderful. When I took a rest again Keith and Elise pared up. They started ferocious, fast, he with a kick and she stepped aside, he threw a perfect side-blade to her angling and she blocked it, moved in, he caught and twisted, she broke his hold--
Then I began to see the dragons. Almost transparent, but obscuring their human bodies, almost just outlines, drawn scales of iridescence; they stared at each other as Keith and Elise fought, touched. No one else saw them, I could tell, because the other matched continues and appendages of the long half-dragons swept through them, forging sunbursts of soft light under both skins.
He had given me this vision as a gift, and with it the ability to not be frightened, and to know that he symbolized the old and she the new, just settling who would now watch over us.
The dragons only looked at each other while Keith and Elise fought, only looked at each other. Never had I seen such a creature like these “big lizards”; an almost perfect mix of Asian and European dragon-type of legend. Like dinosaurs each stood on bent legs (in seisan?) Directly under their long lean canted bodies with slightly shorter front legs tucked up just before the long, sinuous necks. The tails also looked boneless, weaving, tufted with thin feathers, and feathers girded the forearms, ankles, spines and heads. Where the feet had three curved talons the hands could only be described as such, hands, with rough -scaled palms and five dextrous short-clawed fingers. The wings were small compared to the bodies, angelic, feathered until the tips of their long bones and canvas-scales. Beauty of the battle incarnate.
Sensei Rob Swidor, teen blackbelt, called the fight to end. The draconic forms faded away, leaving my friend and the new girl to split apart politely. I blinked a few times only before we were reordered for slow katas as a cool-down. I managed to catch a glimpse of the...dragons’ glazed or unfocused human eyes.
We did katas from the most basic up, so that muscle memory took over quickly and I danced, snapped the combat moves. The translucent dragons emerged from the air and waded to their shoulders in the mostly coordinated sea of people the class had become. The soft light of human contact ended up just diffusing, suffusing the dragons, casting Keith the black-green gloss of a rooster’s feathers and Elise gleaming orange-red-white. Their heads darted out, biting but weaving so that no teeth from the thin snouts met ghostly flesh. Identical black almond-eyes stared peacefully in front of head-crowns bedecked with feathers, a pair of bone horns curved like samurai blades, and fleshy whiskers.
They stepped up to each other and fought with hands locking, pushing, swiping, lock again–to my extreme surprise focusing on their movements did not disrupt mine but refined them as if we danced to the same music.
Soundless dragons heads darted and wrenched feathers from the other’s crest. Now they angled, circled, flared the wings’ shoulders, struck and blocked with hands or head in recognizable karate technique. Keith-dragon’s back turned to me, so I could see the brownish-green egg curled lightly in the grip of his tail. Egg or pearl?
He stepped in close, slammed a hand across her neck and the other against her shoulder, surged to throw. She worked with it, disengaged with claws through his wrists, and quick and neat as thought flicked out and bit lightly just under his jaw.
They reset and again stared at each other, now in front of the crowd, We were still moving, I knew where to go, though I could not recall hearing any commands. Still we moved in synch, punch break step strike braw stamp kick. The dragons bowed, long graceful bodies stretched out toward the floor. Keith’s dragon took the egg and handed it to Elise’s with the greatest of dignity, also solemnity that made me wish he wore the human body which I could more effectively comfort.
With something of a snapping effect the dragons and their eerie aura disappeared. I wobbled, just imaginaing that Elise’s sunk into the woodwork of the roof and her eyes plus the egg glowed into its color. In almost my usual state of mind we bowed out. After gathering my gear bag I met Keith by the benches again and looked up at him, just inviting him to speak.
He met my eyes from that distance that is farthest when he’s close enough to smell. “Every place has its dragon. Once we were connected to caves or fields or the greatest temples. Now–these little bastions of karate schools. I don’t want to let go, but I must. Be nice to the girl. I suggest you don’t tell her that you saw.”
We walked toward the stairway and door with some other people. I asked, “Where will you go no, Keith, don’t disappear on me–“
A pause which nevertheless interrupted my horror. Then, “I have to do a lot to get ready for college. I’ll miss all of this..see you next summer maybe, friend.”
He slipped out the door to the sidewalk. I waited inside for my parents and got into a conversation with Rob, who said he’d never heard me speak outside of class. Longing for human contact was overwhelming me at the thought of Keith just walking away alone with his dragon’s memories.
