I'll be a crow

I'll Be A Crow

My friend said, 'If you could be any animal, what would you be?'

I said, 'A dragon.'

She said, 'You can't be a dragon. They're not real.'

I gave it a moment and then said, 'Alright, I'll be a crow.'

It pacified her, but inside I still wanted to be a dragon.

It's easy enough to accept this world on a mundane level. But boring. So, so boring.

Children see what they want to see. It makes them happy: it comforts them. Sometimes, I suppose, it scares them.

At least they know they're alive.

At school, I sat next to a boy called Nigel Wellsbury. There was a creature that lived in his desk. It was as thin as a twig and had long steel-sharp claws. It was called Blade and at the end of the day, it would climb into his satchel and they'd head off to fight bad guys. I mean, I couldn't see Blade; but then Nigel couldn't see Wing, the small green dragon who lived with me.

Wing and I divided our time between this world and another. When I'd practised my spellings and helped Mum after tea, Wing and I would head off. Usually, we were in the vanguard of a great host sent to find something, or fight somone or save somewhere. Wing was the last of a noble dragon dynasty that had ruled the skies for millenia and then fallen from grace. I was a poor but ever-so-brave wretch from a village where people were obtuse and superstitious. I had had to flee to new lands to find and fulfil my destiny. I was only seven, but I learned the word 'arcane' and used it a lot.

I still find it shocking that we force children to abandon their other-worlds.

I will hold on to mine for as long as I can.

In that place, all the good and the evil and the sacrifice and the death and the desperate honour and the endless love - they are mine. I understand them, they are in my blood.

So, okay, I'll be a crow. If it makes you happy. But when I fly, if you look carefully, you'll see a small, green dragon by my side. His name is Wing and he lives with me.