Barbara Tector- Sandy

Found Object:

Piece of coral

On beach out from Kanomi cabin

"I'm ancient," I thought, as I sat with my friend, basking in the last rays of the afternoon sun.  We looked out across the bay to Kanomi, floating on the sea.

"Sandy?" I asked.  "What did you say when we first met?"

"Food," he chuckled.

My thoughts slipped back in time.

        . . .

"We're here at last," I announced, as we bounded out of our cabin.

I had promised twelve year old Kim a week-end on a tropical island, isolated from the humdrum of modern life. Kookaburras were chuckling as we walked beneath the She-oak trees, and squelched through damp sand onto the beach.

The waves crashing onto the shore brought treasures from the ocean and sprinkled them along the waterline.  We ambled down the beach, head down, inspecting the millions of shells and pieces of coral.

"Look what I've found," called Kim.  "It looks like a piece of tripe from a butcher's shop."

I bent down to feel the offal.  It was hard and smooth, the colour of cheese.  Embraced by the waves the tripe glistened in the sun, showing intricate designs of hills and dales.

"Nope," I said, "Definitely not from a butcher's shop." I felt a tingling sensation run through my body as I lifted the object from the sand.

"What is it?"  Kim asked.

"I don't know," I replied.  "It resembles coral, feels like coral, smells of the sea, but it isn't what it appears, perhaps something mystical instead." 

I made a quick decision.

"Let's take Sandy back to the cabin," I suggested. 

By now, Sandy was pulsating strongly in my hands.  Strangely I wasn't scared, but comforted and I knew it was definitely male.  We placed him in the Entrance Hall and left to wander around the island.

It was dark when we returned and I caressed the object as I passed on my way to bed.

Around midnight, I awoke with a start.  Kim was shaking me.

"Gran, Gran," she whispered, "come quickly, Sandy is glowing and humming."

I struggled out of my sleeping-bag and pattered after her.  A soft blue light illuminated the cabin.  Sandy was glowing and vibrating.  We heard a soft humming. The light grew brighter, the sound louder, and with a tremendous crack the object split in two. A small dragon emerged, spreading its wings, as a butterfly transforms from a pupa. He was beautiful; covered from head to tail in golden scales, unfurling aqua wings of fine membrane. I stretched out my hand and rubbed the scales over his eyes.

"Food."  A vision of meat.

"He's starving," I said. 

Carrying the little dragon carefully, Kim and I made our way to the Catering Hall.  The scrap meat bucket stood near the sink.  I emptied the contents onto the grass outside the door.  Sandy made a dive for the scraps, eating hungrily until the grass was clear.  We replaced the bucket, and retraced our steps, the dragon waddling after us.  

"Sandy looks like a pot bellied stove with wings," I laughed.

Entering the cabin I announced, "Bed, Kim."  Sandy curled into a ball and snuggled up in the corner alongside my bed.  

"Where did you come from?"  I wondered.  "How did you get here? What am I going to do with you? "

"High in the mountains, far away to the East, an earthquake disturbed my nest and I fell into the sea," I heard.  "We are bonded.   I go where-ever you go."

There had recently been an earthquake in Peru, I remembered. Eyes wide, eyebrows reaching for my hairline, I gasped, "You're telepathic?"

"If you want to call it that," replied Sandy.

"Bonded?"   It suddenly registered.

"You handled my egg."

"Lord, how big are you going to grow?"

"Not much bigger than I am now."

That was a relief. In the morning I brought Kim up-to-date on the night's revelations.  

"What am I going to feed him on?" I groaned to Kim.

"Cane toads," she replied without thinking.

"Cane toads," Sandy's eyes whirled.  He licked his lips.  Problem solved.

  We hid the dragon during the day and let him forage at night.  When it was time to leave, I tenderly placed  him in my backpack and we sailed home to the mainland.

. . .

Nineteen years have passed and Sandy and I have become close friends.  Sandy rests by day and hunts by night, returning at sunrise.  He eats other reptiles, but cane toads are his specialty.

We have had a few mishaps, like the night he belched and burnt a hole in the wire door, or the time I ran out of matches and used his flames to light the gas stove.  That was a costly mistake.  It took months to repair the damage.

"Sandy," I asked, "What will become of you when I die?" 

"I will fly North into the bush and chase cane toads," he declared.

"That's my sensible dragon."