The Solution

The goat stared blankly ahead—or at least as best as it could with its eyes on the sides of its head—and occupied itself by chewing on some grass near the post it was tied to. Gregor carefully untied the rope from the post and led the goat to the nearby altar.

Once at the altar, Gregor put the goat in a headlock and, leaning in hard with his substantial bodyweight, swung the goat to the ground. Startled, the goat started bleating and kicking in protest, though Gregor was experienced enough to avoid the worst of the animal's flails. Kneeling on the goat to keep it from escaping, Gregor wrangled with its legs—first the back, then the front—and tied them together with thick twine. With its limbs immobilized, Gregor lifted the animal and gently placed it in the center of the altar.

While the animal wrestling was the most physically demanding part of the process, it was straightforward. The next step was always a bit trickier, at least Gregor thought so. He lit the candles that were placed at strategic points on the outer edge of the round altar. The light of the flames danced warmly, invitingly, against the dark wood of the altar. He walked back to the nearby fence, pulled on the waiting black robe, and raised the hood, which almost completely covered his face.

Back at the altar, Gregor bent down to reach the shelf underneath, rising again a moment later holding a ceremonial dagger. The golden hilt was encrusted with gemstones and the blade, which was nearly as long as his forearm, gleamed in the candlelight.

Gregor moved into position near the goat’s head—it was still trying to wiggle out of its bonds, though it wasn't finding any success. Clutching the dagger in both hands, Gregor closed his eyes and spoke quietly, his voice just above a whisper.

"Domine, occidere est creatura. Confirma me: et quo reo hominem et impleta est vita!"

As the final words left his lips, Gregor held the goat's head still with his left hand and sliced its throat with the blade in his right. Blood gushed out from the animal's neck, flowing to the edges of the altar and spilling onto the ground below. The goat tried bleating again, but its larynx had been severed, so the only sound it made was an unsettling gurgling as the life drained out of it. In less than a minute, the creature was dead.

With the sacrifice complete, Gregor carefully pulled the robe over his head, turning it inside out as he removed it—keeping any blood that splattered on the robe—before walking back to the fence. Once at the fence, he placed the robe across the top rung before walking around the edge of the altar, blowing out each candle as he reached it. With the goat lying in its gore and the candles extinguished, Gregor lifted the latch that held the gate closed and stepped through.

Outside of the fenced area, Gregor walked out the door of the shed and closed it behind him. Back in the sunshine, Gregor did a quick inspection of his clothes for any stray blood. Finding none, he made his way up the hill. As he walked, he grumbled softly to himself, complaining about the heat of the day. At the hill's summit, he pulled his name badge out of his shirt pocket and swiped it across the RFID reader. After a beep and an audible click, Gregor pulled open the door and walked into the office building.

Back in his office, Gregor found that the laptop he had been working on and turned it on—it still wasn't connecting to WIFI. He grumbled annoyedly and picked up his desk phone. He pulled a Post-it Note off of the laptop and dialed the four-digit extension number written on it.

"Hello," the voice on the other end said, "this is Michael."

"Hey, Michael," Gregor replied. "This is Greg from IT. I'm sorry, but I wasn't able to fix your laptop. I'll have to order you a new one."

"Aw, really?" Michael asked disappointedly. "There isn't anything else you can try?"

"Believe me," Gregor said, sighing slightly. "I've tried absolutely every possible solution."

First Date

It’s awfully early for a dinner date, Burt thought. He had to leave the office early to make it to the restaurant by five, not that he needed much of an excuse to duck out early on a Friday. He checked his watch: 5:03 pm. His date was running late, though by a reasonable amount. Scott had really talked this girl up, so being made to wait didn’t seem so bad.

“Hi, are you Burt?” a gentle voice behind him asked.

“Yes,” Burt replied, standing up and turning to face her. “And you must be Gwendolyn.” Burt saw her and recognized her from the picture his coworker, Scott, had shown him. She was pretty, but didn’t seem to like she was trying to show it off. That was something that Burt liked: she was dressed like a real person and not like she was trying to achieve some sort of ideal of beauty. Burt had been on plenty of dates with women who clearly wanted to impress him with their looks but had the personality of a block of wood.

“Please, call me Gwen,” she said, extending her hand. Burt shook it, though thought it was a bit strange to shake hands on a date. After the introduction, he pulled Gwen’s chair out and helped her sit down. She wore a floral-print dress and her brown hair parted on the side, making Burt feel a bit overdressed in his suit and tie.

“So,” Burt said as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table, “Scott tells me you two went to high school together.”

“Did he also tell you that we dated in high school?” Gwen asked coyly.

“In fact, he left that part out,” Burt said, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

“It wasn’t anything serious,” Gwen said reassuringly. “He took me to get pizza once. We made out a little in his mom’s minivan, but that was it.”

“Okay,” Burt chuckled, relieved. “He also left out that he used his mom’s minivan to pick up girls.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gwen said with a wry smile, “girls love a guy in a family vehicle. It really gets us going.”

“You’re funny,” Burt said, impressed. “I like that.”

“I’m just getting started,” Gwen said, opening her menu.

~~~

Their conversation continued going well through dinner and Gwen continued to impress Burt. His dates in the past always ordered salads, which always felt fake to him (no one can fill up on a salad), but Gwen ordered a rare steak. That, along her dry sense of humor, gave Burt the impression that Gwen was a women who was…well, just being herself. It was very refreshing.

“You strike me as a very genuine person,” Burt said while he was waiting for the server to return with his credit card.

“Really?” Gwen asked, using a toothpick. “In what way?”

“The women I date tend to present themselves as the kind of woman that they think I want, rather than just being themselves. I dated a girl once who thought I wouldn’t like her if I knew she was half Colombian, so she wore blue contacts and wouldn’t tell me her last name the whole evening. Little did she know, I’m a quarter Brazilian, on my mother’s side.”

“Women like that are stupid,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes. “What’s these girls’ endgame? ‘If I get him to fall in love with me, I only need to pretend to be a completely different person for about fifty years.’”

“Exactly!” Burt exclaimed, happy to hear his own thoughts mirrored back at him from his date for once.

“I like that one quote from Marilyn Monroe: ‘If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.’”

“Does that mean I get a glimpse at your naughty side?” Burt asked, smirking.

“Maybe,” Gwen said, coyly. “But not tonight.”

“Not even if I take you home in a minivan?” Burt asked, which made Gwen laugh.

“Tell you what,” Gwen offered, a smile on her face, “you can come by my place, but don’t expect to stay over. We’ll just have coffee or something.”

“I can work with that,” Burt said happily as the server walked up with his credit card.

“Just warning you,” Gwen said as she led Burt into her apartment, “my roommate, Luna, is a bit wild. I don’t know if we’ll see her tonight, but she has some … interesting decorations.”

As Burt stepped inside, he saw what she meant. On the wall of the living room was what looked like a medieval torture rack, complete with manacles and chains.

“I think ‘wild’ might be putting it lightly,” Burt said, one eyebrow cocked.

“Hey, remember who your date is,” Gwen said, leading Burt by his tie to the dining room. She pulled out a chair for him to sit at the table. “How do you like your coffee?”

“Oh,” Burt said, surprised. “We’re actually having coffee.”

“I’m genuine, remember?” Gwen said, a big smile on her face. “Besides, if I’m not worth having unless you have to work to get me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Burt asked, intrigued. “And you’re worth the hunt?”

“I guess you’ll have to chase me to find out.”

~~~

“Well,” Gwen said, stretching her arms, “you’ve been a great date, Burt, but it’s time for you to go home.”

“Are you sure?” Burt asked, disappointed. “It only just got dark outside.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Gwen said sweetly, “but I’d love to see you again sometime.”

“Alright,” Burt acquiesced. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“I’m busy after seven, but we could meet for lunch.”

“Sounds good to me. Mind if I pick you up?”

“Not at all!” Gwen said enthusiastically. “How does eleven thirty sound?”

“It’s a date!”

Gwen walked Burt to the door and kissed him gently on his cheek as he left. She could tell that it had been a long time since he had been so happy to get just a peck on his cheek at the end of a date, but she could have that effect on guys.

Her train of thought was broken by the sound of her phone making a dinging sound. It was her alarm, letting her know that Luna would be there soon. Gwen went into the bedroom and stripped off her clothes. She then went to the bathroom, filled a cup with tap water, and took a couple of sleeping pills. She knew that the pills would kick in soon, though perhaps not before her roommate arrived.

Gwen walked over to the rack in the living room. She attached the manacles to her ankles and wrists, the chains being loose enough for her to reach her feet. Once she was locked in, she touched a button to activate a winch, tightening the chains until her hands and feet were pulled against the back of the rack (the release was near her left hand, but inside a hold that only small fingers like hers could fit into). Once everything was place, she relaxed and leaned against the wood behind her.

“Alright,” Gwen said, the sleeping pills kicking in, “ready when you are, Luna.”

Just then, it started. Her muscles flexed against her restraints as she let out a beastly howl. Her ears lengthened, as did her feet. Every hair on her body grew, covering her body in a thick fur. Her muscles grew as she struggled against the chains, but she couldn’t move enough to get the leverage needed to break free. Her mouth and nose stretched, combining into a snout. Behind her, a newly formed tailed smacked against the wood. When her transformation was complete, she was somewhere between a wolf and a human.

The beast blinked, becoming aware of her surroundings. “This again, Gwen?” she said drowsily to herself, her voice deeper than Gwen's. “One of these days you’ll forget what day it is and won’t strap yourself down by the time I arrive. I can wait. After all, I only come around about once a month anyway…” As she spoke, Luna the she-wolf, fell to sleep strapped to rack and started lightly snoring.

The Hunt

Argus sat on the tree branch, waiting. The waiting was the hardest part of the hunt. Sharpening your weapons, reinforcing your cords, that was one thing: at least you were doing something. With waiting, all you did was, well, wait.

This hunt had lasted a few weeks, with little sign that his prey was close. In his youth, he had stalked his prey, but he now realized that wasn’t terribly practical – with each prey that came near, he’d have to change so much about his behavior to get close, and that was exhausting. So instead, he now puts out bait and sits, waiting.

Very subtly, Argus felt the air shift. The other creatures of the forest became very still and the silence that stayed behind was palpable. Now, the true test began. Argus gripped his lariat in his right hand, using only his forefinger to keep the loop in place, the excess cord held loosely in his left hand. All of his attention was focused on watching the tree line for his prey and being ready to pounce.

With little warning, four creatures exploded into the sky from the forest canopy. They flew without wings, propelled by some unknown force. Argus had only the briefest of moments to decide which prey to pursue. He could have chosen the fastest or the biggest one, but Argus had studied these creatures and knew that the best one to go after was simply the closest one. He adjusted his stance to a crouch and watched the flying creatures’ flight pattern. As soon as a creature was in range, Argus let his lariat fly. The cord found a home around the end of the long, rat-like tail and Argus let the coiled excess spill out. He watched the cord fly out after the lead and jumped from the tree just as the cord pulled his chest harness it was attached to.

This is where the hunt really got exciting, Argus thought as he climbed the cord up towards the creature. This close to his prey, he could see the details up close. The scales that covered its body were large and shimmering in the early morning light. The two limbs it had in place of arms were short numbs with a long, single claw attached to the ends. From his current position below and behind, he couldn’t see the head, but they all look about the same with their rodent-like teeth obscured by large, full lips and their soulless, black eyes, staring into nothingness. Truly, they are fearsome creatures to behold and many hunters have been intimidated on their first encounter, but Argus had grown accustomed to the chase.

He quickly scaled the cord and was soon climbing on to the creature itself. He had to move carefully to not cut himself on the sides of the large, hand-sized scales. His heavy boots and gloves provided some protection, but even some hunters that wore full armor had lost a limb simply to the scales. Every preparation in the world would mean nothing if one was careless in the moment. To help lend some stability, Argus pulled his pickaxe from its holster at the back of his belt. It was made from a previous kill’s claw, which was incredibly strong. With each swing of the axe down into the side of his prey, slowly moving Argus forward, the creature cried out with high-pitched, whistle-like screams, steam pouring out of the single nostril on the top of its head.

Despite the danger of traversing the creature as it swung its body about violently, Argus was soon at the head. He quickly holstered his pickaxe and unsheathed the sword on his back. The sword was built out of a bone from a previously killed creature with the edge made up of razor-sharp scales. He positioned the point of the sword directly over the nostril on the creature’s head – the only vulnerable part on the whole of the creature – and thrust downward. Rather than the whistle-like scream from before, the creature let out a deep bellow. As Argus’ body vibrated with the sound emanating from his prey, he pressed the sword deep into the creature’s brain, dark green blood pouring out of its head. Now the creature’s path was curving downward, unable to stay aloft through its mysterious means. Argus held tight to his sword, as much for stability as to ensure the death of his prey. Trees crashed around them as they plowed a path through the forest. With a thunderous crash, the creature met the ground, though it continued sliding for nearly a half-mile.

When the creature finally came to a stop, Argus – who was quite exhausted at this point – pulled out the mouth pipe from its loop on the left side of his belt. He took a deep breath and let out four distinct calls, a pattern that was unique to successful hunters. Soon, the village would arrive and help him harvest everything useful from his kill. He slowly began his climb down from the top of the animal. On the ground again, he took inventory of his extremities. Everything was accounted for, though he did have a few minor cuts and scrapes. Argus had known hunters that had lost fingers without realizing it, the thrill of the hunt had been so strong. If he had any wounds that needed attention, now was the time for it. However, without the need for first-aid, Argus sat down and leaned back against a still upright tree as he waited for the others.

He did not have to wait long. Just as he was truly getting comfortable, he heard the village’s chief call to him.

“Argus!” the older man called. “Quite the impressive jaub you have here.”

“Aye,” Argus called back, turning in the direction of his elder tribesman. “It will sustain our people for some time, Orion.”

“I think a jaub like this will offer much in food and textiles.” Orion was now in front of Argus and he extended his hand to help the other man to his feet. “I hope that the benefits of this one will also be bounteous, but we will not know for certain until we have sliced it open.”

“Please let me know the quality of the jaub when the assessment has been completed. Now excuse me, I must go and look for Eos.” Orion nodded and went to observe the deconstruction and appraisal of the newly landed jaub while Argus wearily began looking for his wife amongst the crowd that had formed. While he was searching, a hand lightly touched his shoulder, causing him to turn and look for the hand’s owner. He was met by the face of his wife, Eos, with her violet-grey eyes and reddish-blonde hair (though a few streaks of white had started to come in). She was carrying their young child, a boy named Aether.

“Quite the jaub you have landed, Argus,” she said to him, proudly. She turned to face Aether, “Your father is the best at finding and landing jaubs, young one.”

Argus looked at his little family, happy that he could provide a good life for them through his efforts. After all, everything comes from the jaubs that he lands: food, clothing, tools, medicine, even materials for their houses. In the past, hunters would go after other animals as prey, but no other creature provided as much to men as jaubs did, so now that was the only prey worth going after. Once the jaub was landed, other men and women of the village would deconstruct it down to the various components to be used. The various insides, called benefits, were especially valuable since they were essential components in medicines. However, no part of the jaub could be utilized without the jaub itself first being landed. In many ways, Argus thought, the hunter was the most important role in the village.

With his wife and child beside him, Argus slowly walked back to the village for a well-deserved rest. The hunt would begin again soon, but for now, he would enjoy his time off.

Davey and the Dragon

“Davey, wake up!” his mother called from down the hall.  As he slowly sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes he thought about how much he was looking forward to the day.  A smile came across his face as he thought about the picnic at the park.  Even though he was eagerly anticipating the events of the day, waking up was never fun.  Nevertheless, it wasn’t long before he was up and dressed (he decided on shorts and a t-shirt with a dragon picture on it).

Davey moved into the living room where his mom was tying Janie’s shoes.  “Good to see you up, Davey,” she said looking up at him.  “Why don’t you go into the kitchen to see if your dad needs any help with the food.”  She then turned and looked at his little brother, who was in the act of sneaking up on the sleeping cat.  “Barry, what have you been told about bothering Sprinkles?”  Davey left without hearing his brother’s response.  In the kitchen, his dad was packing the cooler with food for the trip to the park.

“Hey there, kiddo,” his dad said with a smile.  “Ready for a fun Labor Day barbeque?”

“Oh, yeah,” Davey said with a broad grin.  “I’m going to eat more hotdogs than anyone else!”

“Really?  Even more than Janie?”

Davey scoffed at the very idea.  “Dad, she’s three.  She’ll have one.”

“Okay.  So, do you think you’ll have more than Barry?”

Davey was seeing where his dad was going with this conversation and decided to jump to the conclusion.  “Yup, I’ll even eat more than you.”  As he said this, he looked wryly his father, waiting for him to be shocked at his challenge.

“Oh, my!  Well, I’ll need to pack extra pickles to go with all the hotdogs you’ll be eating.”  Davey’s face twisted into a mask of disgust.  “Alright, more pickles for me then.  Can you grab the hotdog buns over on the table?”

As Davey obeyed the request, he heard his mom call from the living room.  “Walt, are you finished in there?”

“Just about,” was the response from Davey’s dad as he finished packing the cooler by placing the blue plastic ice pack in it and shutting the lid.  Having finished with the cooler, he packed the non-food items like plates and napkins, as well as a bag of potato chips and the buns that Davey had brought over, into a red plastic basket.  With both containers packed, Davey’s dad pick up the cooler and asked Davey to grab the basket and follow him out to the car.

As they walked out of the kitchen and into the garage, Davey thought about how much he liked helping his dad.  It made him feel like the big kid that he knew he was, but it also seemed like his dad enjoyed his help as well.  By the time the cooler and basket were in the trunk next to a bag of charcoal and Davey’s dad had closed the trunk with a THUNK, Davey spoke up.

“Dad, I was thinking about today and how you are going to cook the hotdogs.”

“Yeah,” his dad said with enthusiasm, “I know that you said you were going to eat more than anyone else.”

“Uh-huh.  Well, I was thinking about it, and I think that I should help you cook them.”

“Whoa,” Davey’s dad said.  He crouched down to better look Davey in the eye.  “I know that you want to help, but the grill can be very dangerous.  I don’t want you to have an accident and hurt yourself.  I think the best way that you can help me is by playing with your brother and sister and keeping them away from the grill.”

“No, Dad,” Davey said with conviction.  “I’m a big kid.  I can handle it.  You should let me help.”

“Yes, you are a big kid, but you still aren’t a grown-up.  Only grown-ups can work the grill.”

Davey could feel himself changing.  This had happened before when things wouldn’t go the way he expected them to.  He felt … hot inside.  And he would make his hands into fists without thinking about it.  His mouth felt tight and he would clench his teeth.  He knew that the feeling was called anger, but it was different for him than other people.  When Davey got angry, it was like he was a different person.

With his dad still looking at him, Davey started to argue.

“Bobby Templeton’s dad let him cook on their grill and he’s only six-and-a-half,” Davey said defiantly.

“Bobby Templeton’s dad is not your dad.  You mother and I don’t want to take the risk of you hurting yourself.  It’s better to be cautious than sorry.  We’re only looking out for you.”

“Dad, you’re being so mean!” Davey was raising his voice now.  “I’m seven-and-three-quarters and I’m old enough to help you!”

Davey’s dad stood up and looked at him sternly.  “You do not raise your voice in the house; you know better than that.  Now, I’ve explained to you why it won’t work and you need to accept it.  Come inside and wait while we finish getting ready.”  Davey, getting angrier by the moment stomped his feet loudly as he went inside.  His dad called after him, “Stop stomping, Davey.”  Davey didn’t care what his dad said.  He was old enough to help!  His dad was just being mean for no reason.

When Davey got inside, Barry was crawling on the floor of the living room, pushing a toy car and making engine noises with his mouth.  Davey was so mad at his dad that when he saw Barry having fun, it just made him angrier.  Before he could even think about what he was doing, Davey stepped on Barry’s hand that was controlling the toy and then twisted his foot.  Barry screamed and started crying.  The boys’ mother rushed in and started shouting.

“Davey!  What are you doing?!”  She quickly picked up Barry and looked at his injured hand.  “Why would you do that, Davey?”  Before Davey could answer, she immediately sent him to his room.

Davey’s change was complete.  He stomped off to his room, angry at everything.  He was angry at his dad for not letting him help cook, he was angry at Barry for having fun (for some reason), and he was also angry at himself for losing control again.  When he got to his room, he slammed the door closed and sat on his bed breathing heavily.

He could hear Barry still crying and his mom and dad talking about how Davey was out of control again and what would they do about him.  He wanted to take it back or at least say he was sorry, but he knew that he couldn’t do that.  He didn’t know why he couldn’t, but he knew that apologizing wasn’t an option.  He just didn’t want to be there anymore.  Davey got up from his bed and opened his closet door, went inside, and closed the door behind him.  He wished that he could be somewhere else because he had caused so much trouble and he didn’t even know why.

After a few minutes, Davey noticed that he couldn’t hear his mom and dad talking or Barry crying anymore.  That probably meant that his punishment was going to start now.  Probably no TV for a week and he would have to do all of Barry's chores, too.  But his dad (who always laid out the punishments) never came in.  Davey started to worry that maybe they left for the park without him.  His anger now panic, Davey threw open the door to his closet and was about to run in to the living room when he saw that his room was different.  His bed and desk and other furniture were gone, as were the walls and the ceiling and even the floor.  It looked like he was in some sort of cave that was filled with gold.  The only light came from some torches on the walls of the cave that was bigger than his whole house.  Not knowing what else to do, he walked toward the gold, which was made up of coins and armor and scepters and dishes and was all heaped in a big pile, and called out: “Hello?”

Suddenly, the pile started shifting and Davey could hear a muffled voice speaking from beneath it.  “Whffs drre?” the muffled voice said as the pile continued to move.  Suddenly, the gold erupted with the head of large, red dragon.  The dragon had a long, serpentine neck and was covered in scales with two large, bony horns coming out of the top of its head before curling around the sides (the horns reminded Davey of a bighorn ram’s).  Its mouth was filled with long white teeth that poked out of the sides of its mouth even when it was closed.  As the dragon’s head finished emerging, it blinked its heavy eyelids and yawned with its massive jaws (which sent out a small fireball towards the ceiling).  While seeing all of this, Davey wasn’t afraid; he was awestruck.

“Cool!” Davey exclaimed.

The dragon looked over at Davey with its large yellow eyes and spoke with a deep voice.  “Who are you and what are you doing in my cave?  You haven’t come for my gold, have you?”

“My name is David Walter Greene with an E at the end, but I go by Davey.  I don’t know how I got here and I don’t want your gold.  Are you really a dragon?”  Davey could barely contain his excitement.

“Of course I’m a dragon,” said the dragon, a little annoyed.  “My name is Granpaugh and I was enjoying a nap buried under my gold until you came in.”

“Your name is Grandpa?” Davey asked.  “That’s weird.”

“Really?” Granpaugh asked with one big eyebrow raised.  “How many other dragons have you met?”

“Um, none others,” Davey said lamely.  “I mean, you’re the first one I’ve met.”

“So, if you’ve never met any other dragons, how do you know that Granpaugh is a ‘weird’ name?”

“Uh, I guess I don’t.”

“As a matter of fact,” the dragon said smugly, “Granpaugh is a perfectly good dragon name.”

“Sorry, sir,” Davey said, wanting to make friends with the very first dragon he had ever met.

“Anyway,” Granpaugh said, changing the subject, “if you’re not here to steal my gold then what are you doing here?”

“Actually,” Davey said, “I don’t know how I got here.  I was in my closet and when I came out, I was here.”

“That explains why there’s a closet here now.”  Davey turned to look and saw that his closet was sitting in the cave, unconnected to the house where it belonged.  The dragon continued: “I think what happened was that some magical energy got near you while you were in the closet.  Did you make any wishes while you were in there?”

Davey thought for a moment.  “Yeah, I wished that I was not at my home.”

Granpaugh nodded.  “Magic tends to be attracted to strong emotions.  Had you recently done anything that made you feel especially happy or sad?”

Davey suddenly remembered his argument with his dad and the following tantrum.  He looked at the floor of the cave, feeling ashamed.  “Yeah, I was just sent to my room for hurting my brother, Barry, and I just wanted to get away.”

“I think that’s it.  You feeling bad about being sent to your room, combined with your wish, brought you here.  Well, Davey, the energy that brought you here needs a few minutes to reset before it can take you back.  Why did you hurt your brother?  Did he steal your gold?”

 “No,” Davey said, feeling bad for what he had done.  “He didn’t do anything to me.”

“So, why did you hurt him?” asked Granpaugh.

“I don’t know.  I was mad at my dad for not letting me help cook the hotdogs for the picnic and when I saw Barry having fun it made me even more mad.  I don’t know why I get angry like that.  I just do.”

Granpaugh looked at Davey thoughtfully.  After a moment he spoke.  “I think I know why.  My sister used to hurt me when she was mad so that I would feel just as bad as her.  I was too small to fight back, so I would hide in our clan’s pile of gold.”  Davey nodded.  He would get angry and would just lash out so that other people would feel bad, too.  Something else that the dragon said made Davey think.

“Is that why you like gold so much, because you used to hide in it?”

“Maybe,” Granpaugh said, looking bashful.  “Girl dragons are bigger than boy dragons, so hiding was easier than facing her.  The world can be scary, but you always know what to expect with gold.”

Davey saw how similar his experience was to Granpaugh’s, though Davey was more like Granpaugh’s sister.  “Maybe,” Davey said, “she feels just as bad about what happened as you do, but she’s afraid to say anything.  Maybe if you talked to her, she’ll say that she’s sorry.”

Grandpaugh looked uncertain.  “I don’t know.  I don’t want her to hurt me again.”

“Well, I feel bad about hurting my brother and I want to say sorry when I see him again.  Maybe your sister feels the same way.”

“Maybe ...” Granpaugh said, his voice sounding more optimistic.

Suddenly, Davey noticed a bright light coming from behind him.  He turned to look and saw that his closet had a bright blue glow surrounding it.

“Quickly,” Granpaugh said sternly, “get back in your closet and wish to go back home.”

Davey ran back towards his closet, but paused before going through the doorway.  “Will I ever see you again, Granpaugh?”

“I don’t know, but if you don’t go right now, you could be trapped here and I’m not sharing my gold.”

Davey smiled at the dragon being so protective about his gold once again.  He took a deep breath and went through the doorway, closing the door behind him.  Once inside, Davey closed his eyes and wished to be back home.  When he opened his eyes, he could hear his dad call his name.  He opened the door to his closet and continued out of his room.

When he got to the living room, his dad was sitting on the couch waiting for him.

“Davey,” his dad said, “why were you sent to your room?”

“Because I hurt Barry,” Davey said calmly.  “I was angry that I couldn’t help you cook and when I saw Barry having fun, I wanted him to unhappy like me.”

Davey’s dad looked a bit surprised.  “Alright,” he said, “it sounds like you’ve thought about this.  You can’t take out your bad feelings on other people.  Now, you need to apologize to Barry.”

“Okay.”

“And try not to take out your anger out on other people.”

“I’ll try,” said Davey.  “I don’t want to hurt people anymore.”

After a heartfelt apology, Davey was told what his punishment would be for hurting his brother: no TV and he had to do extra chores around the house, but only for two days.

Despite the chaos of the morning, the family was still able to enjoy a fun time together at the park.  Davey played with Barry and Janie and helped to keep them away from the hot barbeque, which was a way of helping his dad cook.  But he still didn’t eat any pickles.

THE END