Sometimes They Do
A short story
By
Tyler J. Vitt
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Published by
Tyler J. Vitt on Smashwords
“Sometimes They Do”
Copyright 2012 by Tyler J. Vitt
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“Okay. Once upon a time—”
“That’s cliché.”
“That’s what?”
“Clee-shay. Like, it’s used too much.”
“Yes, I know. But where did you hear that? I was three times your age before I figured that word out!”
“Adam told me.”
“Your mom’s boyfriend?” It was good that she was finally moving on, but he couldn’t help but feel that pang of sadness that ‘moving on’ implied.
“Yeah. He says it all the time.”
“Huh.”
“Keep going, grandpa.”
“Right. Well, once upon a time there was a dragon. A big one, lots of teeth and fangs and spikes. Wings as large as cars.”
The boy looked up at him with a tedious look that epitomized that one word: cliché.
He smiled. “Bear with me.
“Now, there was that dragon. He stood twenty feet tall and was a hundred feet long. Eyes as bright and orange as the fire he breathed. He had many teeth, tons of teeth, huge long ones.” He lifted a hand, and held thumb and forefinger as far apart as possible. “That long, and those were the smallest. He was also scaly, red scales as big as plates and red, the colour of—of jam, raspberry. He could gobble you up in a single bite, and take down an entire house with one whap of his tail.
“This dragon was a real ba—” He hesitated, barely catching himself. He squeezed the boy’s leg. “Bad apple. A bully, a mean old bully. He tore down castles, burnt down villages, wrecked farms.”
“Why?”
The old man shrugged. “Just because. Because he could. He was the biggest and the baddest, and there was no one to stand up to him. No one brave enough, anyways. Lots of angry people who wanted to get the dragon, but everyone was too scared to actually go do it. So they lived in constant fear, afraid that big lizard would swoop down and get them.” He clutched suddenly at the boy’s sides. “A few people got just enough courage to chase that dragon down, but each time they chickened out as soon as they saw the fire in his eyes—and the fire in his throat!—and the size of his teeth and claws. They would try to run away, but mostly those people never returned from the dragon’s lair.”
“What happened to them?”
“Dragon ate them,” said the old man gravely, matter-of-factly. He dramatized with exaggerated movements of his jaw. “Gobbled them up whole. Cooked them in his tummy, with all that fire in there.”
The boy’s face scrunched in disgust.
“The dragon also stole,” the old man went on. “Took treasures and diamonds and jewels from all of the rich folk, and hoarded them away in a cave. The cave was—” He almost said on top of a mountain, but that would be rather cliché. So instead, he went with: “Under a lake. The only way to get into it was to swim. Which the dragon could do, because he had gills like a fish.”
The faintest flicker of a frown crossed over the boy’s face. A good sign.
“So the dragon stole, and he wrecked people’s homes and their farms. Ate anyone who came after him, and breathed fire and burnt any of the king’s soldiers who dared to defend the kingdom. This went on for years. Hundreds of years, and nobody could do a thing about it.”
“Because they were too scared.”
“Yes. All of them. Except for one.” He held up a single finger and waggled it. “A knight. He came from a far away land, had heard of the bad dragon and all the destruction it’d caused, and wanted to do something about it.”
How to change things up a little? “Now, this knight wasn’t the best. He was strong, but not the strongest. He was a good fighter, but didn’t win every fight. He could swing a sword nicely, ride a horse like a pro, and shoot a bow and arrow well, but there were others who were better than him. But what he lacked in skill he made up for in...” What was the word? “Determination! Yes, you see, he wasn’t the best warrior, but he was brave as—heck. And when he got focused on a goal, it was impossible to make him change his mind. He had courage, tons of it, and it was the best kind of courage, particularly for fighting fearsome dragons—reckless.”
“What was his name?”
“Jeffrey,” he said without hesitation.
A smile. “Grandpa...”
“Okay.” He smiled back. “It was...”
His eyes wandered about the room, seeking inspiration, and of course they fell on that photo in the corner; they always did, drawn to it like bugs to light. The photo of himself but younger, and not quite of him; the resemblance was just uncanny. And sitting in his lap, waiting for an answer, was yet a younger version: the third generation of the same face.
The first name that came to mind would be too easy, too obvious, too painful. With one last glance at the photo, the old man blurted the only thing he could think of: “Jay. Sir Jay.”
“Jay?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “There was a Sir Kay, and there was also a Sir Jay. Not related—in any way, if you’ve read your King Arthur.”
The boy looked up at him silently; patiently.
“Anyways,” the old man went on, “Sir Jay travelled to the kingdom just so he could confront the dragon, bringing with him loads of courage. He went to the king, and in front of all the king’s men told them his plan: he would challenge the dragon and kill it in direct combat, simple as that. They all laughed at him. Laughed and laughed, and told him he was a fool. Because nobody had ever gone to fight the dragon and survived.
“So they laughed, but Sir Jay didn’t care. He asked them where the dragon lived. The king, still laughing, told him about the lake where the lizard lived, and added, ‘If you kill that dragon, this entire kingdom will be yours.’ You see, the king meant it as a taunt—a way of making fun of Sir Jay—but the knight just ignored it. He didn’t even want the kingdom—he just wanted to fight and kill the dragon.
“Jay left immediately and rode his horse towards the lake. He went alone: he didn’t want or need any help fighting the lizard. But before he even got to the lake he came across his foe—the dragon was attacking a castle!”
“The king’s castle?”
“No, just a castle. There were many castles. This one was owned by a... duke. Anyways, the castle was half torn apart when Jay arrived. Its walls were all falling apart and there was fire everywhere.
“Jay wasted no time. He jumped off his horse and ran up to the collapsing castle, taking with him only his sword and shield. It was dangerous—as I said, the castle was falling down around him and the walls and floors and ceilings were all burning—but Jay was quick and careful, and he reached the top of the castle. At the top of a tower the dragon was stealing from, uh, the duke’s treasures, and Jay approached him. ‘Dragon!’ he yelled loudly, and the big lizard turned slowly to face him. ‘I have come to slay you!’
“The dragon’s eyes glowed fiercely, and in response to Jay’s challenge he spit out a ball of fire. The knight lifted his shield just in time and blocked the flames, but they made the shield—it was metal—too hot to hold, so he had to drop it. Seeing the knight armed with only a sword, the dragon laughed.”
“Dragons can talk?”
“Some can. This one couldn’t, but he could laugh. So he laughed at the little man in front of him, and thought Jay would make a tasty snack. The dragon stepped forward and lunged with his mouth full of teeth, but Jay jumped to the side at the last second and the dragon missed. He was a little surprised at the knight’s quickness, and Jay used that moment to attack. He hacked and stabbed, a quick one-two with his sword—” The old man mimed flamboyant attacks with an invisible sword. “—and gouged out that dragon’s eye!”
“Yuck.”
“This only made the dragon madder. Howling in pain and fury, he swept his wing at Jay and sent the knight flying into the wall. This caused Jay to drop his sword, and with his tail the dragon knocked the weapon across the room. Now Jay had no shield and no sword, and the dragon was angrier and more dangerous than ever.”
“What did he do?”
“Jay? He did the only thing he could do: he lifted his fists—” The old man lifted his own, mimicking a boxer. “—and ran at the lizard.”
“Grandpa—”
“Naw, I’m serious! They were the only weapons he had. So he used them, and began bludgeoning the dragon’s big, scaly nose. The dragon was so surprised that he didn’t even know what to do. The little human was punching him, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or attack. He stepped back and back, trying to get away from the flying fists of the unarmed knight, until he was cornered against the wall.”
“Did Jay kill him?” The boy giggled. “With his punches?”
The old man almost said Yes, exactly, but hesitated. He had been doing well so far, he thought, in getting away from the boy’s expectations—in escaping from coming up with something too cliché. Jay killing the dragon with his fists would be getting away from the norm a little, but it would still be a typical knight-killing-dragon scenario. The old man thought quickly and fiercely, trying to come up with a good twist, and—as always—his wandering eyes came upon that photo...
“No,” the old man said eventually, his voice low and slow. He shook his head and spoke a little louder. “No, the dragon ate him. Lunged forward, and in a single gulp swallowed Jay whole. Armour and all. He did it in a panic because, for once, he was scared of a human and didn’t know what else to do. So he just did what he always did, and just ate his attacker.”
“Grandpa,” the boy said, looking up at him sternly, “the heroes aren’t supposed to die.”
The old man smiled, then glanced at his source of inspiration and the expression faltered.
“Sometimes they do. They shouldn’t ever have to, but they do.”
And sometimes it’s not dragons and not knights, but petty thugs and righteous constables.
He looked down at the boy, his eyes sparkling a little more, and smiled again as warmly as he could. “But you know what? Sometimes it’s okay. Sometimes it’s better that the hero dies.
The boy’s face tightened into a frown.
“Because, you see, the people watched Sir Jay go into the tower, and even though they didn’t seem him come out they did see the dragon come out—minus an eye! So even though he’d been eaten, Jay had done what no other man or woman had ever done before: he had hurt the dragon. The people realized the dragon could be hurt.
“Jay’s sacrifice—his death—inspired other people in the kingdom to stand up to the dragon. Since they knew the dragon could be hurt, they followed Jay’s example and mustered all the courage—“
“Mustard?”
“No, ‘mustered.’ ” He chuckled. “Means they gathered, collected. Collected all the courage they could, and an army challenged the dragon. The big lizard was now scared of humans because Jay had revealed his weakness.”
“To punching?”
“No, no. Weakness to courage. Even though he had eaten and therefore beaten Sir Jay, in the end Jay defeated the dragon. Because the honourable way he died—fighting a dragon with his bare fists—gave the other knights and soldiers of the kingdom the extra courage they needed to stand up and fight the dragon. Jay showed them the dragon could be fought and could be injured.
“So they chased the dragon, who tried to flee back to his lair. But he was scared, scared of the little but brave humans chasing him, and his missing eye made it hard to fly, and they quickly caught the dragon and trapped him. It still took a hundred men to slay the creature, but slay it they did.
“And then the kingdom was safe. At least from dragons. The people held a big ceremony and feast in honour of Sir Jay, and he… He was given an honorary rank of prince to the kingdom, even though he was dead, and he was buried with all old kings of the land.
“And,” the old man concluded, smiling triumphantly, “everyone lived happily ever-after. Except for Jay, who was happily dead ever-after. Because even in death, people can be happy, so long as they are given the love and respect that they deserved. Jay knew of all the honours given to him after he died, and was glad. Glad that the people loved him, and glad that the dragon had been defeated.”
A moment of silence, and then, “Grandpa, I liked that story.”
“Me too, son.” He kissed the boy’s head. “Me too.”
Because putting a spin like that on things dulled the pain, made it a little easier to accept. Whether it was Jay and his dragon, or another knight and an altogether different kind of monster, spinning a yarn around the truth made it all the easier to understand.
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About the Author
Tyler J. Vitt is an independent author who has been writing for much of his life. He writes for the sheer pleasure of seeing his thoughts put into words—and for easing the strain on his mind caused by a ceaseless imagination.
Tyler typically sticks to writing horror and science-fiction as well as the occasional bit of fantasy, preferring to include elements of the fantastic and the supernatural, stuff that just cannot be found in the real world. He believes the best stories in some way incorporate a sword (or a situation where one would come in handy), and that every narrative should, at some point, evoke at least a smile.
A recent university graduate, Tyler has just begun sharing his works with the general public. He dreams of getting his First Novel finished and out for everyone to read, but in the meantime there are half-finished manuscripts and plenty of short stories to share.
If you have any questions or comments on his stories, or want to discuss anything at all for that matter, feel free to drop Tyler a line at TylerJVitt@tylerjvitt.com.
Other works by Tyler
“Iron Man”—a short story chronicling one man’s gruesome transformation from a soft body of flesh and bone to one of cold, hard metal. Winner of The Manitoban’s Short Story Contest 2009.
“Him”—a short story of obsession, madness, and a flair of the occult.
“Killbot”—a short story of an apocalyptic world in which the human race has been devastated by titanic robots known as ‘Killbots’ and where difficult choices are a part of daily life.