Welcome back to the Announcer, everyone! I’m sure you’ve all missed the school paper and, this year, we’re back and better than ever.

As you’ve probably already guessed, this is a newer section the Announcer staff has come up with, a place where readers can come to enjoy a short story based around any interesting thing that comes to my mind. I time myself for thirty minutes, usually writing on an object I find somewhere around my house, and do my best to stay around 500 words (though more often then not I’ll end up going over).

So, without further fanfare, please enjoy the first story in the Creative Column: The Book Dragon!

The Book Dragon

“It’s a book dragon!” my grandmother proclaimed with a gummy grin as I held up my strange gift. “For when you stay up late reading!”

“Uh… gee, grandma, I don’t know what to say.”

I really didn’t.

I turned the present over in my hands, trying to school my expression into something Mom wouldn’t kill me over. Crouched on a piece of wood, the little green and red-scaled “book dragon” glared out at the world with a distinctly testy expression, wings poised in a half-raised position. I rubbed a finger over them and grimaced when it came away dirty- attic dust. Ugh, the thing even smelled like attic, a mixture of rotting newspaper and fraying clothes. It was probably stuck in some corner for ages until my semi-senile grandmother found it.

“Thanks?” I offered. My grandmother bobbed her head pleasantly, and I gave her a weak smile. Setting the small statue gingerly on the table, I gave it a second expression. Nope, no better. It still scowled back at me. For a half-second, its red eyes seemed to flare. I dismissed it as a trick of the light, because it couldn’t be anything else.

Right?

A few hours later, lounging in my bed, I lowered my dog-eared book a fraction of an inch and frowned at the sight of the figure on my shelf. It didn’t belong there, I didn’t like it there, but “it’s a present from your grandmother and I can’t believe you were so rude blah blah blah.” Thanks, Mom. Now I can sleep knowing that ugly thing is watching me all night.

I grunted at it and went back to reading, scrunching my knees up to my chest. I got through about three pages when I heard it- a faint tapping, like nails. I looked up, squinting in the semi-darkness of my room. There was nothing out of the ordinary, as far as I could tell: a few clothes scattered on the floor, some book stacks wobbling on my dresser, shelves empty, save for the rows and rows of soft- and hard-covers standing like sentries. I looked back down, making a mental note to put a mouse trap out or something. Really, though, I was being para-

My shelves weren’t supposed to be empty.

I jolted upright, eyes popping wide. My shelves were not supposed to be empty. The statue my grandma got me was supposed to be giving me the stink eye from across the room. I looked again and saw only an empty block of wood.

No way, I thought shakily. There’s no way…

Something ran into the cover of the book I was still clutching with a sweaty palm. I squealed and almost flailed right off the bed.

“No way,” meet “yes way.”

Snorting in protest at my spastic movements the little… book dragon flicked its tail out and flapped up to my knee, tiny feet scrabbling for purchase on my pajama pants. I gaped like a dying fish, trying (and failing) to form words.

“How… what…” The statue turned dragon gave me a look I could only describe as amused. Then it became serious, making a lunge for my shoulder. It landed, wings stretched out for balance as it turned itself around, its weight warm and real.

Very real.

Growling impatiently, it stabbed a talon at the book I still gripped loosely.

“Oh, uh… you wanna read?” It rolled its eyes, which I took as a “yes.” I opened to where I left off, a little unsteady. It snorted again, squinting at the words. It made a rough scolding sound at the lack of light and sucked in a breath, blowing out a brilliant plume of flame.

And giving me enough light to read by.

“Uh… thanks.” It gave a sage nod, settling more comfortably on my shoulder. I read the same sentence three times before I could move on. A book dragon, I marveled. I have a book dragon.

Maybe Grandma wasn’t so senile after all.