CNL: Stories
reprinted from the Compost NewsLetter
Samhain 1992:
From Rocks to Riches
by Richard Carter
When I walked back into my cell after taking a shower, I heard a rustling sound in my locker. I thought for sure it was a rat. Lord knows there are enough of them in here, both the two- and four-legged varieties. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself, this story really started this morning.
I had been sick for two weeks, and I had only left my cell in order to go to work. We were working six-day weeks, and the past two Sundays when I was off, I had slept all day. This morning, however, I must have felt better because at 7:30 AM I was wide awake and headed for the exercise yard.
When I got to the yard, the first thing I noticed was that during my two weeks' absence some construction had been going on. They had done some excavation and poured a concrete slab in order to enlarge the weight lifting area. The second thing I noticed was the pile of dirt and rocks that had been dug out in order to pour the slab. "All right!", I thought to myself, "Rocks!" I began to casually kick through the dirt and look for rocks.
Now I must explain. You see, I have an affinity for rocks. I have managed to scrounge and hold onto a few of them, and in here, you get your comfort where you can. So I carry seven small stones with me, but I'm always on the lookout to expand my collection, which is hard in here, to say the least, what with all the concrete and steel.
Anyway, I began to look for rocks. I scraped away some dirt, and there it was.
It was the size of a small henês egg, but more octagonal. That's the first thing I noticed, how geometrically perfect it seemed, though it was obviously a natural formation. I bent to pick it up, and it felt very strange in my hand, almost warm somehow. It had a bumpy, irregular surface and a smooth, leathery feel to it. It seemed very heavy for its size.
I was grinning like an idiot when one of the guards came along.
"Hey you, keep moving."
"Yes sir," I said as I palmed my new find.
I went back to the cellblock, and into my cell. I sat on my bunk and held the rock, rubbing it. It seemed somehow alive, almost as if it had a pulse. I thought to myself "Time is finally getting to you man, ease up." So I put the rock in my locker and went to take a shower. When I got back from the shower, I was drying off and I heard it. Rustle, rustle, rustle. I stopped and listened: nothing. I started getting dressed. There it was again: rustle, rustle, rustle. Coming from my locker; a rat no doubt. I grabbed my size 11 steel-toed boot and opened my locker door very slowly.
The first thing I saw was my new rock. It was cracked and split in three pieces. The noise had stopped. I bent down and peered inside my locker, and way back in the dark I saw a pair of eyes shimmering, shining like eyes I had never seen before.
I inhaled sharply and said "Man!"
"Man!" came a tiny little voice from inside the locker.
Then the voice laughed, a small little gleeful, perfect laugh coming from inside my locker!
I thought "Well, this is it, I've finally flipped all the way out."
Then the rustle, rustle, rustle sound. And she came into view.
There she was. The tiniest, most perfect creature I had ever seen. Her eyes were grey where ours are white and the irises were a golden yellow. Her pupils were shaped like fingernail parings, and the brightest red I had ever seen. The rustling sound I had heard were her wings. Tiny, spiny, gossamer wings. Miniature bat wings of the finest silk. She fluttered them at me and laughed again.
I was astounded.
A dragon. A real, live dragon was in my locker.
Now, I have always supported the dragon myth. In fact, I have a dragon tattooed over most of my back. I had often daydreamed of dragons coming and letting me climb on their backs and fly away to some far off mystical land. But here I was, in federal prison, with the cutest little baby girl dragon ever to walk or fly the earth.
She was an iridescent blue and green along her back, and a creamy butter-colored yellow on her belly. She sat on her haunches with her perfect little feet sticking out and her short little arms and hands waving in the air. She pushed a box of raisins to the edge of the locker shelf, then looked at me and kind of shrugged. I opened them and shook some out in my hand and offered them to her. She daintily picked them up one at a time, two bites for each raisin. She ate twelve of them, then she gave a little belch, looked up at me and smiled.
She began to beat her little wings. They were so lightweight and small for her body, I would never have imagined she could fly, but she did. She flew right up and landed on my shoulder. She just sat there playing with my hair. She made happy cooing sounds, like any satisfied baby creature does.
As I lay on my bunk that night, my new little baby dragon curled on my pillow where I could feel little puffs of dragon breath, sweet as daisies, against my face. I can almost swear, just as I drifted off to sleep, I heard her say "Papa" and giggle ever so softly.