~The Dragons Song~

~Chapter 1: It Starts With A Death~

AN: Ok so this is the first of my story ideas to make it to the internet, so I'm very nervous of how people will react to it. Please don't be hateful, but be truthful about what you think. I'm ok with being corrected on spelling/grammar so go ahead if you feel the need to. Please ask questions if you have any, ill do my best to answer them without spoiling the story for you and/or everyone else. 
Notes: If there are x's under a paragraph its like signaling a back to the point/back to what's happening. If anything is in italic's it usually means that a character is thinking or it's a character's dream. 
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        No one really knows how he died, just that he did. Everyone expected me to be heart broken. Sure I was a little sad, but I hardly knew the guy. My brother on the other hand balled his eyes out until he had no tears left. I don't think it was the grief of a lost loved one that made him that way, I think it was the grief of a lost hope of having a father figure.

        My father was a good man. At least that's what they say, I never really met him. A bill in the mail to my aunt was all that he did to contribute to my brother and I. He was a business man, I've been told, but whether that was true or not, I have no earthly idea.  I was told he loved me very much...but if he loved me so much why didn't he visit me even once? But I just accepted it and stopped asking questions.

        But now I was in a church with my 10 year old brother surrounded by people feeling sorry for him and I. I believe things happen for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. So I sit, comforting my brother who silently cries into his hands. People pass by us, there eyes puffy from crying, and nod to us saying "comforting" things like "he was a good man", or "he's in a better place now". My aunt nods at them, because all I could do was simply stare. There was no words. I was at a funeral for someone I didn't know. For someone who called himself my father but didn't visit me even once. It made me angry how everyone here felt sorry for me for the wrong reasons. 

        The car ride home was long and dreadful. No one spoke, No one made a noise. As if uttering the slightest peep would shatter an invisible force field keeping us safe from the reality of the situation. My aunt looked back at me through the mirror giving me a look that said "I know what your thinking and your right." It made me happy to know someone knew, not the happy that makes you smile, but the happy that comforts your lonely heart.