The Dragon in Me.

For the "Voices in the Minor" New year Challenge. You can find it us here, if you would like to join:

And even if you don't join the group. Please feel free to add your links in the comments!

The Challenge is simply to write a piece, in any form you wish in honour of the, 'Year of the Dragon" entitled, "The Dragon in Me".

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Hailing from an unremarkable town, Anya was equally unremarkable: quiet, unassuming and diligent. She had been the town librarian since she had graduated college with little fanfare some 20 years ago. Her days were routine, mundane mostly, spent amongst the shelves of her beloved books. In between the bleep of her scanner, freeing words into the world of other minds, she would read.

Occasionally she might be asked for directions or less often a recommendation. And she would oblige quietly, without fuss. Her work colleagues thought she was aloof and barely acknowledged her presence. She wasn’t, but shyness and a deep rooted need for privacy had left her unable and in part unwilling to engage. She had few friends to speak of, and they lived far away. They would speak occasionally in snatched phone calls, fitted in around their lives.

In the evening she would cook something beige. If she were feeling confident, she might add some chilli pepper for flavour. But mostly her food was plain. Boiled to do the job. Enough to keep her alive, nothing more. And she would read, more often she would write - silly half-baked tales.

Over the years, she had worked through the romance section. Losing herself in the love of others. Never hers to have, but she could hold them for a while at least. After that had come historical fiction and then Shakespeare. The classics. She had almost read it all. Except fantasy. She had never ventured there.

With the influx of Kindles and other such contraptions, the library was so quiet that she barely needed to ‘sussh’ anyone anymore. She had more time to focus on her beloved words.

The book was the only one in the 'returns' pile. Its cover was dark blue like the ocean depths and the lettering was calligraphic gold. It reminded her of the fairy tale book she had held dear when she was a child. There was no illustration, just the title, “Dragons and Myths”.

She stroked the gold edges of the pages with her fingertips and inhaled the soothing scent of time. She felt her curiosity awaken once again. Anya began to read; tales of valiant dragons; majestic, powerful, and wise. Enchanted creatures that embodied strength and freedom. That night, as she fell asleep with the book nestled into her arms, her dreams launched her through the skies; arms open wide as she felt the rush of freedom and watched the earth beneath become hers. Fire licked flames of passion and hope filled her mind. When she awoke to the pulse of the offensive alarm clock she felt in her chest, a heart that had changed forever.

She worked though the litany of dragon tales and emboldened knights and her courage grew into an Oak, its branches spreading out into the sky above her. At first her metamorphosis was gradual, an attempt at conversation with Anna, the cleaner. A wider smile at a customer. Then, an offer to recommend a book to a young boy and his mother.

And in the evenings, her creativity, long confined between the spines of meticulous cataloguing and sorting, began to take shape. The pages of her notebook filled with words. Her pen barely able to keep up with her mind as her stories wrote themselves. Her evenings, once lonely were filled with characters and ideas far away from the monotony of her usual existence.

The library, her place of refuge had become a breeding ground for ideas; fascinating fantastical worlds of escape and beauty, she could be wherever she wanted. Whenever she wanted.

Her dormant dragon heart was enlivened, and in a moment of bravery, hope and a couple of glasses of wine for courage, she started her blog. It was private but it was hers. So she wrote late into the morning hours, often seeing the casting of dawn as it spread into the night.

Bleary eyed, but upbeat, she would continue in her duties. Her smile brighter and her step a little lighter. People began to notice. Thinking that she had found a love. And she had. But not the kind that they had in mind.

As time went on the dragon within was relentless, its fire propelling her forward into new realms. Vocal.

And Anya would become Celia.

Her hands shook as she entered her first story on the site, but wine had numbed her fear.

In that singular moment, she had become her own dragon. She may not breathe fire or have very much wisdom. But she has heart and a reawakened passion; her ferocious fire pushing her to do what she never believed or thought she could. Not even on the most fantastical of days.

And the best thing of all. Her dragon heart is filled with other dragons; stronger than she, but willing nonetheless to embrace her into the fold.

Offering a community far beyond what her imagination could have created.

There is a dragon within us all. And in this New Year, the year of the Dragon, may you find your dragon within. In whatever form you need.