Many years ago I would tell stories to my niece when she was little (She is now 25), I would call her from work to tell her stories on my breaks. She always asked for stories with princess’ that had her name, with magic and dragons. Here is one I wrote just for her.

Once upon a time, in a place far, far away, there lived a large family of dragons.  They lived in a beautiful cave high up in the mountains.  They had a wonderful view of the sky and of the forest below.  They were very happy with their life, all except the newest member of the family, Seymour.  He was only a baby.  He couldn’t breathe fire yet and his wings were much too small for him to fly.  He was very sad about this because he wanted to go play with the other dragons among the clouds.  Instead he had to always stay home in the cave.  And nothing fun EVER happened in the cave.

           One day when all the other dragons had flown away to play on the great white clouds, Seymour sat down and cried.  He felt very sorry for himself.  Poor Seymour, he thought, I never get to have fun.  It wasn’t fair.  He was all alone with no one else to play with.  He was angry and decided to pout for a while.  But that wasn’t any fun because there wasn’t any one there to see him.  Finally in a huff, he decided he was going to go play in the forest, even though his mommy had always told him not to go down there by himself. It wasn’t safe for a little dragon because he could be caught by a hunter and never seen from again.  But he didn’t care, he was tired of always being alone.  He didn’t care if his mommy gave him a spanking when he came back.

           He ran from the cave, excited because he was finally going to have fun.  But when he reached the forest it was dark and scary.  He remembered every scary story he had heard about the forest and he began to be afraid.  Suddenly Seymour wished that he hadn’t left the cave.  The trees were huge, with long gnarled limbs and the forest was all quiet and lonely.  He couldn’t even hear a bird singing.

           “ I should go home.”  Seymour said aloud. 

           He was feeling very scared, but when he turned around to go home he couldn’t seen his cave.  Seymour looked everywhere and ran up and down every path he came to but he still couldn’t see his home.  He ran and ran until he was too tired to run.  He finally stopped and sat down on a large mossy rock.  He started to cry.  The tears were bright as they dripped off his nose and into the grass.  He covered his face with his paws and cried. “ I’ll never find my way home!”

           Somewhere else in the forest, a pretty little princess, who was only six, with long brown hair and pretty blue eyes, was picking flowers to take home to her mommy.  She had quite an armload and was just about ready to go home when she heard Seymour crying.

           “ Oh that poor little kid.”  She thought, thinking he was a little kid lost in the woods.

           She ran toward the sound of his crying and found Seymour sitting on a rock.  She was surprised that he was a dragon.

           “ Why are you crying, Little Dragon?”  The princess asked.

           Seymour was startled when he saw her.  He was scared that she might be a hunter.

           “ Are you a Hunter?”  He asked, watching her with worried eyes.

           “ No, I am a princess.  My name is Laurren, what’s yours?”  The princess asked sitting down beside Seymour on the rock.

           “ I’m Seymour.”  He said shyly.

           “ Why were you crying Seymour?”  Laurren asked.

           “  Because I can’t find my way home.”  Seymour whispered.

           “ I’ll help you find your way home.”  Laurren offered with a cheerful smile.

           “ Oh, thank you very much.”  Seymour liked Laurren because she was so nice to him.

           “ Where do you live?”  Laurren asked.

           “ In a cave.”  Seymour replied.

           “ Well, caves are in mountains.  So I will just climb a tree and see where the mountains are.”  Laurren said and she ran to a tree and started climbing.

           She looked left and right, she could see the trees and the clouds way up high. 

           “ I found it.  I see your cave way up high in the clouds.  I can see all the dragons flying around up there.”  Laurren yelled down to Seymour. 

           She climbed back down and taking Seymour’s hand they walked back through the forest, up the mountain and to Seymour’s home.

           Seymour’s mommy was so happy to see him she picked him up and gave him a big kiss.

           “ Oh Seymour, you scared me so bad.  Never ever go off like that again.  Something really bad could have happened.”  She said.

           “ I won’t mommy, not until I am a big dragon with great big wings.”  Seymour promised.

           Seymour did keep his promise and he stayed in his cave.  But he wasn’t ever bored again, because Laurren came to visit every day and they had tea parties and played hide and go seek while the other dragons flew high in the clouds.

The End

This is what happens when I start talking to myself in the middle of the night:

           “ Take it.”

           “ No.”

           “ What do you mean, no?”

           “ I mean no, what else can that mean?”

           “Take it!”

           “ No!”

           “ You can’t argue with me.”

           “ Why not?”

           “ Because I made you.”

           “ So?”

           “ So, just take the @&^& eight ball!  I’m the $%^@ writer and you have to do what I say!”

           “ Why?”

           “ Because I made you!”

           “ But I don’t want the eight ball.”

           “ And why not?”

           “ Because whoever has it dies.  That’s it’s curse.”

           “  I know that’s it’s curse.  It’s my story, remember?  That is the only reason I wrote you.  To take the eight ball and die.  That is your purpose in this story.”

           “ No!  That’s not fair.  I don’t want to die.  I’m so young, so beautiful!  I have so much to live for.”

           “ No you don’t.  You’re just a minor, expendable character.  Your whole purpose for being is to die at this point.”

           “ That’s so unfair.”

           “ I don’t care if you think so or not.  I’m the writer, you must do as I say.  Take the eight ball.”

           “ No, please, I don’t want to die.”

           “ When did you get so much personality?”

           “ I don’t know, I was born that way.”

           “ Are you going to do what I say?”

           “ No.”

           “ Then who am I going to kill?”

           “ Why not you?”

           “ Me?  I’m the writer!”

           “ So? You want some one to kill right?”

           “ I made you for that reason.”

           “ But I don’t want to die!”

           “ Fine, I’ll kill myself.  Are you happy now?”

           “ Yes, very.”

           “ Fine, here goes.”

           The writer sighed and picked up the eight ball and looked at the black number against the round white circle drawn on it’s side.  It was hard to believe that this was cursed.  That was when the bee flew into the room and stung him on the hand.  He used to be very allergic to bees.  I say used to be because he was now dead.