The world is full of strange tales. Ones about love, ones about war. Some about humans, some, Dragons. So let me tell you of a tale, that mixes them all, this is a story of Blaze.
Blaze was like any of you. Kind, innocent, humble, but there was one...
I awoke in my section of cave, or "room" as the humans called it. The entrance had a makeshift door, a flat piece of wood with hinges. I was sleeping on the floor instead of the slab of quartz I called a "bed." Next to me was my "desk" which was a raised slab of sandstone I'd made myself. On it we're large dictionaries I'd stolen from the humans, and used to teach myself English. Before I had time to react my father burst in "Blaze, the only language you need to know is Dragonian, not English, we are not humans, and will want nothing to do with them!" My father shouted, seeing the books on my desk. In an instant he burned them all before I could even protest. I looked toward the smoldering remains of the books, and collapsed on the ground, my left left wing covering my face.
"How many times do I have to tell you Blaze! We aren't like them! They'll kill us as soon as they see us! That's what happened to you mother five years ago..." he paused, turned and turned away. He fell silent for a few minutes, before he padded out. I don't need reminding. I was only ten years old at the time, and was hiding in a bush, watching some men unpacking a large green van. It had patterns that looked like the forest, and they wore matching uniforms. I was curious about humans, and we were traveling across the country, so I decided to spy on the humans while we were resting. My tail poked out without me realizing, and the men saw me. I tied to run but they shot my wing. My mother jumped in, let me escape, but she didn't come back. It was all my fault. My father carried me away, while holding back tears.
That's his Trump card, I hate it when he uses it. I walked over to my mirror, and took a big long look at myself. I was about the size of an adult human with black scale. My body and wings were sleek, with highlights of glowing blue. I also have an annoying scar, put there by my enraged father, just above my left eye. I was unique. I was able to almost break the sound barrier, and I'm the only dragon who's dragon-fire(btw dragon-fire is hotter and burns longer than normal fire) is plasma. People say I look like a killer, but I barely kill unless I need too. I'm probably the most innocent dragon in the world.
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As well as I'm sure I'm the only dragon to be able to speak fluent English, the one factor my father wishes I didn't have. I have zero friends, spend most of my time reading, and hiding my books from my father. If he finds an English book, he will burn it. My mother was sweet and kind, and she knew how to speak a little English, and she encouraged me not to kill. Before she left us, she gave me this; a ruby, the 'treasure horde kickstart' she called it. It remains my only reminder of her, as well as a satchel I carry around full of pencils, books and sketch pads. After she left, I taught myself to draw, which wasn't easy with claws, both to pass time, and mainly to take my mind off the absence of joy in my life.
I tried to be the perfect son, but it's hard when your father hates you for who you are. When I try to do it his way, I find myself drawn back to the humans, back to the books, wondering why such an intelligent race would want to destroy us. I can't even begin to fathom why we can't co-exist, but my father doesn't think so. Sometimes I feel alone, like no one understands me.
I decided to go for a walk in the forest, alone, without my dad... Just thinking about him makes me cry. Why can't he love me for who I am, so yes, sometimes I need to get away.
