Mythfits

24-Ella

I hoped that my luck would hold. I had, after all, just found an actual basilisk in the woods, and are therefore that much closer to collecting all the ingredients. Was it foolish to hope that my (minor) foot injury would prove to be no problem, that I would get a full night's sleep and having a basilisk in my house would create no issues whatsoever? In all honesty, yes, as proven when not an hour after returning home, a certain classmate of mine turned up at my window. The string of disastrous occurrences follows me into the morning when I awake to find my foot rather (very) swollen and my room looking even more like a tornado swept through it than it usually does.

The night before, completely exhausted and therefore not entirely thinking straight, I had told Rose to make herself a bed out of a few of my extra blankets. This proved to be a mistake: she had completely torn apart my room. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I stare hopelessly at the explosion of clothes, blankets, and books on the floor (and everywhere else). Hobbling on my one good foot, I sweep a path through the floor over to where the sleeping basilisk lay, almost completely covered by my dirty laundry. Frowning, I reach up and pick one of my socks off of the lampshade, how it got there- I have no clue.

"Rose." I call softly, trying not to wake Dad up, "Rose!" Gingerly, I poke her with my stockinged foot, "Wake up."

The twitching of her reptilian legs in response reminds me, once again, of a large, scaly dog. You know, with six legs and eyes that can turn you to stone- just your everyday dog. "Wha-?" Is her sleepy response, her sunglasses askew. Just to be safe, I avert my eyes, staring at the ceiling,

"Rose, fix your glasses please." A scuffling sound and an okay from Rose later, I explain to her quickly that we need to hide her before my dad wakes up. Thankfully, he's a heavy sleeper, but I really don't want to have to explain a basilisk to him.

I rack my brain, trying to come up with a good place to keep her, "Could you stay in the attic?" I muse out loud, thinking of the musty space, hopefully large enough to keep her situated.

"Attic?" Her question, accompanied by a confused tilt of the head, reminds me that while Rose can talk, she's still a baby mythical creature with little experience on our world. (Yeah, trying not to think about it.)

I sigh, "Here, I'll show you." After discovering that Rose is completely unable to do anything quietly, including walking on tile, I scoop her up in my arms and walk as silently as I can with a 35 pound lizard in my arms. This lasted for the length of the house, until we arrived at the base of the stairs, far enough away where Dad shouldn't hear us, and directly below the trapdoor leading to the attic.

It then took Rose a good 20 minutes to figure out how to climb the stairs.

"Okay." I exhale in a big whoosh, running my fingers through my short hair, "So there's some old quilts in that box there, and the attic shouldn't get too cold because Dad hates being too cold so he never turns the heat down."

Rose lays down in the nest she's made, "Thanks Ella." She gives me a small, reptilian smile and rests her head on her forefeet, "It's perfect."

I smile happily, despite the fact that I have no idea how I can keep a large baby magical basilisk-dragon fed and cared for and keep it hidden from my father. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, I promise myself, for now just focusing on one problem at a time.

Glancing at my watch, I am reminded that even though I have mythical problems exploding in my face at the moment, the rest of the world still expects me to perform normal, mundane, everyday acts- like showing up to school and eating and sleeping and overrated things like that. Unfortunately people don't believe it to be acceptable to subsist on hot chocolate, pop tarts and 4 hours of sleep plus a few power naps.

So I cross my fingers that nothing else will go wrong, like the house exploding, dad getting into a car crash, Rose turning the neighbor kids into statues, Steve randomly showing up, the zombie apocalypse occurring or my english teacher assigning anymore essays.