A Spark in the Snow

My hands turned into an almost purple colour, lifeless, when I gripped the steel handle to my home. Every
second was a loss to the massive winter, heavy snow blanketing Finland, the wind like hordes of ghouls
sucking the life out of me, breath by breath. No amount of clothes wrapped around me would bar the cold
from possessing me, nor the heat creeping away from my body. Must get in. I flung the door open after the
click of the keyhole.

Thump! A package I had not notice because I was too desperate to be near the hearth.

An egg.

The cupboards were scarce of food. Time to whip me a big omelet sandwich. It had been days at the table,
wondering what to do with the giant of an egg in the warm closet, just above the stove. Could it be? An
ostrich? There weren’t any big birds in Finland, not that I had been around the country, not with the cold.
But any food nowadays was treasure to any household. I couldn’t care less for the weirdness of the entire
happening. Flicking the stove on was a sting to my heart, knowing that I was one food lesser each day. I
resisted the thought, but my stomach gave in to the temptation. The heat warmed me for a moment, and I
reached out my hands to–

Crack!

A line. A tiny peck.

Crack!

A claw, reptilian, hawk-like.

Crack! Screeeeeech!

I landed on my back, shocked, gawking at the dragon hatchling emerging from its shell.

Either I would live out my days, or the dragon would consume me. My mind was racing as it sniffed about
with its tiny snout. It kind of liked its surroundings, tasting the air with its forked tongue with hisses, albeit
the lingering coldness. It leaped off the counter – its wings still folded, too weak but struggling – and landed
clumsily on the floorboard. It croaked, annoyed by the slight pain. It shook its head to clear its dizziness.

Its eyes, a glowing blue, met mine, and mine, its. It crept warily.

I reached out my right.

First the snout, then its scaly head, and then it climbed for my embrace. It purred, like a kitten, loving the
touch and craving for more. My hands wrestled for a more comfortable position. Guess I wouldn’t be the
Last Supper.

Week after week, even if I liked the idea of having the reptilian rascal with me – the snow thawed into a
lovely enjoyable spring for the both of us – it wouldn’t be any safer later. People would be asking about my
absence at work, the police would receive reports of charred vegetation or chomped livestock, and I would
have unwanted busybodies turning my residence into a party of nosy reporters, angry residents and invading
authorities.

So I drove the dragon to a nearby lake, woods surrounding and not a single trace of human. It was perfect.

It was the size of a lively bear cub, its wings strong enough to carry it to the winds. It just looked at me
silently, when I shooed it away, again, and again, and again.

Perhaps it understood my worries for it. It lifted its wings. And it flew, away from me for twenty years.