A short story intertwining fantasy with reality, about parenthood and loss.
Content warning: despite the alluring name, this is not a romantasy piece. If that is what brought you here, turn away now. My apologies for getting your blood pressure up unnecessarily.
The following is a short story submitted during my time as a creative writing student in 2024 at University of Melbourne. All semester, I struggled with putting together my short story. Then the final weekend before submission, it came to me and I had the finished product within hours.
We don’t talk enough about grief and the weird and whacky ways it can look and feel. It’s something I’ve been feeling strongly recently in different ways. Enjoy.
Daddies and Dragons
My gaze hits the ceiling seconds before the vibrations and noise begin. Right on cue, the alarm throbs on the bedside table. After prematurely ending its beckon, I roll over and reach out across the cold void on the other side of the bed. Pristine. Undisturbed. Empty.
There’s a moment — those eleven or twelve seconds when I first wake — that everything feels warm and full of hope.
“Daddy? Are you ready to go?”
I sit up and rub my eyes. The door’s open. Joyce is standing in the void, her five-year-old cheeks glowing with life.
“Not yet, darling girl. I’ve got to have a shower and get ready for work.”
“But it’s time for another adventure!”
“I know. I’m just not ready yet. Be patient with me.”
As the warm water of the shower ricochets off of my skin, I can hear her rummaging around, the little conversations she has with her toys, the insufferable songs she adores so much, the fun.
“Alright, let’s go,” I announce, dressed for work and grabbing hold of the front door. “Where are you taking me?”
Joyce appears at my side, a large grin on her face.
“You’ll see.”
Stepping outside, the cars and buildings melt away. Instead, I’m faced with a choking array of charcoaled trees. Joyce takes off, a crossbow tucked in her arms and armour plates on her shoulders, elbows and knee pads.
An image flashes in my mind of the mini skateboard and pads that are gathering dust on the top shelf of the cupboard.
A rusty sword in hand, I rush after her, covering my mouth to guard from the smoke, squinting as I try to follow her steps through what remains of the forest.
“Wait for me!” I call out. “Joyce, please! You’ve got to stop leaving me behind!”
After what feels like a lifetime of looking for my precious daughter, I push through the last line of blackened stumps and find myself in a field of lavender. Joyce is sitting on a tall rock, staring off ahead at a castle on the hill.
“I can’t, darling. Not today.”
“But it’s time. The queen needs you. She’s been waiting in that castle for so long.”
“The queen doesn’t need me. She’s safe and happy in that wonderful castle. In fact, if anything, the queen is safe because Daddy isn’t there. He’s the worst.”
“You don’t make things worse!” she laughs. “Daddy, you’re the best!”
She looks right at me, tears on her cheeks, yet she smiles with warmth.
“Why are you crying?” I soothe, placing my sword down so that I can take her hand and wipe away her tears.
“I just really miss the queen. I want to see her.”
I take a deep breath, grounding my feet into the soil below. Each time she says those words, it cuts a little deeper.
“I’ve got to get to work.”
“But we haven’t faced the dragon yet!”
Before I can argue, a screech rips through the skies above. The dark silhouette of a mighty dragon spreads across the clouds. With each beat of its long muscular wings, it descends upon us.
Thud.
The four claws sink into the ground ahead of us as the dragon tilts its horned head in our direction. Deep, red monstrous eyes lock onto its prey.
“You can’t go to work. I need you. It’s going to kill me!”
The dragon is done with waiting. Its long claws start to tear the ground apart as it steps towards Joyce and the rock. Snarls and clicks tremor from its jaw as the shark-like teeth grind on one another.
My heart is punching the inside of my chest. I try to focus on the lavender, focus on my breathing.
“Daddy! Please! Help me!”
Joyce drops her crossbow, watching it crash down next to my sword. I try to retrieve my blade but my hands are too shaky.
I look up. The dragon is just on the other side of the rock, watching, laughing. Joyce is sobbing, waiting for me to save her. The dragon opens its mouth wide. The ground vibrates beneath my feet.
“Daddy!”
As Joyce reaches for me, the elevator doors open, wiping her from view. The last moment I see is the dragon lurching forward.
“Woah, Samuel. Are you okay?”
I open my eyes. I’m on my knees. Everything is spinning. Cerise kneels down and places her hand on my shoulder, the other hand outstretched to stop the elevator door from shutting.
“You don’t have to be in today. I told you, we can do today without you.”
“I’m fine.”
I push off of the floor and move past her, heading for the next security door.
“Samuel…”
“I said I’m fine!”
*
Knock, knock.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Eleni asks, checking her notes and phone one last time. “I heard what happened.”
“Just tired. Child Protection takes its toll.”
“Tell me about it. You won’t have to do much for this. I’ll ask the questions, you just take a look around and keep it casual. This is our last option for a kinship placement, otherwise she’s going to have to try her luck with foster carers or residential care.”
Footsteps.
The door opens. We’re greeted by fake smiles. Whilst Eleni sits in the kitchen with the potential mother, I wander around the corridor, pretending to send an email on my phone. The potential father is quick to follow me.
“How long have you known Taylor’s mum?” I hear Eleni ask.
“Since high school. We were good friends.”
“Have you stayed in touch?”
“Not really. I’ll be honest, when she messaged me about what Taylor’s dad has been doing and asking if I could take Taylor, I was shocked to hear from her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but she’s her mother. Why isn’t she putting her hand up?”
“Well, we can’t give too much information but it was previously decided that she’s not a good fit to have a child in her care, and the safety of children is —”
I move into the living room. No toys. The news is playing on the TV. Yet their son, maybe seven years old, is scrubbing the windows clean. His face is pale and he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. Sweat rushes down his cheeks.
“Can I get you a coffee?” the father smiles, appearing at my side.
“No, thank you. How come your son isn’t at school?”
“He says he’s sick. He clearly just wants to skip maths, though. Kids, right?”
“So why have you got him cleaning windows?”
“Because he can’t just sit around all day.”
“He’s sick.”
“He’s not.”
“And if he drops dead?”
The child staggers as he bends down to squeeze out the sponge, holding his hand out in front of him to catch his fall.
Joyce appears at my side. She slips my sword between my fingers. As I turn back, I find myself face to face with an ogre. Faceless children are locked in cages around us. In the distance, the dragon is ripping the burnt forest apart, hunting for Joyce.
In a flash, the fighting begins. The ogre towers over us, his green skin scarred from dozens of unnecessary battles. His one eye twitches as he swings his axe at our heads. Ducking out of the way, I grab a handful of dirt and throw it in his face. Joyce circles around and empties her crossbow into his back, but each bolt bounces off, flopping into the floor, limp, lifeless.
I try to charge at the ogre with the rusty sword but he clears his vision in time to strike me to the side of the face. I lie in the dirt, watching blood trickle from my mouth.
“Daddy?”
As I look up, the ogre has opened one of the cages. A young boy emerges from it and nurses the ogre, cleaning up his wounds with a sponge. The more he cleans, the smaller the ogre becomes. Before long, the boy is holding the ogre in his arms, smiling as the ogre returns to his human form.
“I’m sorry,” the man whispers, nuzzling the top of the boy's head with his nose. “I should have listened.”
Joyce slips her hand into mine.
“I hate being sick,” she whispers. A knot appears in the centre of my body.
“I hate you being sick too.”
The dust turns to carpet, the dragon disappearing beyond the perfectly clean windows. Eleni and the mother are behind me, scowling, as the father sits the boy down on the sofa and checks his temperature. My breath is still quick and sharp from the heated words that left my mouth after watching the boy stagger. My spit still decorates the father’s forehead from my rage.
*
“Wait, are you benching me?”
“You’re not being benched. This is just as important. However, you’re lucky I’m not sending you home after what Eleni told me.”
Cerise doesn’t look up from her screen. Her fingers thunder across the keyboard, summoning every legal word imaginable in a last minute rush to get documents over the line.
“Besides,” she continues. “You’re good with kids. She’ll be scared. You’re the right person for the task.”
Forty minutes later, I head down to the bottom floor. As I open the door, ready to make it look less like a meeting room and more like an appropriate space for a six year old girl to spend her evening, I find a child staring back at me.
“Good, you’re here,” a forgettable colleague groans. I don’t get to respond. Instead, they rush past and close the door behind them.
I turn back to the young girl. She’s sitting on the floor with her school bag. I can see fresh bruises peeking out from underneath her collar, and faded ones around her throat. She catches me staring and shrinks into her clothes, hiding herself away. Tears linger on her eyelids, ready to flood the room.
“You must be Taylor.”
She doesn’t respond.
“What did you get up to at school today?”
Still nothing.
My eyes wander to the TV attached to the far wall. I head over and take the remote, hoping to find cartoons. Instead, it waits for input, wanting to broadcast bored faces in pointless meetings. When I turn back, Taylor is cuddling a large, fluffy rabbit. Its ears flop over her arms, almost identical to the one sitting on Joyce’s bed, waiting for her to come home.
The TV kicks into life behind me. I can hear the sounds of Joyce’s favourite cartoons but Taylor doesn’t notice. I turn around. There aren’t any cartoons. Just darkness.
“Are you scared?”
Taylor looks at me but doesn’t answer.
“I’m scared too. I’m always scared. This room is scary too, isn’t it?”
She nods her head.
“If you could be doing anything right now, what would you be doing?”
I watch Taylor’s eyes flicker back and forth, thinking of an answer.
“Is my Daddy going to get into trouble?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Will I get to see him again?”
“Only if you want to. But he won’t be able to hurt you anymore. Daddies are meant to keep their kids safe.”
Taylor stares at her rabbit. It has several bandaids on.
“Are you a daddy?”
She looks at me, waiting for an answer. Joyce appears behind her. She kneels down and strokes the rabbit's ears, fascinated.
“Daddy?” she checks, looking up at me. “Are you coming to see the dragon?”
*
“How do dragons breathe fire?”
Joyce throws a chip in the air and catches it in her mouth. The sun is setting ahead of us over the sea. Behind us, the dragon is curled up, its deep snores vibrating the sand, unaware of his current use as a backrest.
“I don’t know.”
“How does it not make their heads too hot?”
“Because they’re dragons and they’re not real.”
I can still see the castle in the corner of my eye. The lights are on inside. A silhouette moves now and then.
“Why did my head get too hot?”
Her words cut through the serenity, taking my breath away.
“You were sick.”
“Did I not get sick before?”
“You did. I just didn’t realise how sick you were this time.”
“Oh. Sorry, Daddy.”
I turn to her. Her shoulders are sinking, disappointed in herself.
“What for?”
“I should have told you.”
“No. You did. I should have listened. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“So why aren’t you listening to Mummy now? She’s still waiting in that castle.”
“I’m scared.”
“You can’t be scared! You’re a brave knight!”
I run my finger along my rusty sword and lean my head back against the scaly stomach behind me.
“I’m scared that if I go into that castle, I won’t have any more adventures with you.”
Joyce looks out across the sea, watching the sun descend further from view.
“That’s sad. But it would be more sad if you didn’t go to Mummy. She needs you more than me now. Do you want me to hold your hand whilst you go? Just in case there’s another dragon?”
I turn and stare at her. As she holds her hand out, there’s a warmth in her grasp, reassuring but coloured with guilt. I turn my eyes towards the castle. For the first time in a year, a window is open.
When I turn back, Joyce is gone. Instead, Taylor is sitting next to me on the beach, tucking into her fish and chips. She looks up and smiles at me, then frowns as my phone starts to vibrate.
“Where are you?!” Cerise shrieks. “Seriously? Have you kidnapped an abused child on the day her world comes crashing down? Court’s finished. We’re meant to be taking her to —”
“Calm down. I took her to the beach for fish and chips. She said it was her favourite thing to do. I’m bringing her back now.”
“You better be!”
“I am. I’ve got somewhere to be.”
*
Joyce takes my hand as we walk up to the castle door. The longer I stand there, the larger it grows, intimidating me.
“Just knock, Daddy. You can do this.”
“I love you so much. I want you to know that.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
With that, Joyce pushes the door open. It swings with a loud creak. Across the room, Laura is sitting in a large armchair, a box of tissues in her lap. Perched opposite from her is Ariadne, our therapist. Their faces are awash with surprise, confusion, excitement and intrigue, cutting off their conversation mid-sentence.
“Sorry I’m late,” I whisper. “Sorry I’m a year too late.”
“That’s okay,” Laura cries, getting to her feet and bursting into tears. I rush forward and take her in my arms. Nuzzling her hair, I open my eyes. Sitting next to Ariadne, and cuddling her toy rabbit, is Joyce.
“Are you ready to talk about her?” Laura whispers.
“Yeah. I think I am.”
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