Pocketed
By Lorraine Schein
Max needs a light. He holds the cigarette in his mouth, pokes it out at an angle, and then carefully tips his head down to me.
I grasp the edge of his pocket with my claws, and pull myself up to reach the tip. Then, being careful to keep my wings out of the way, I stream a thin flame through my nostrils to it, and the tip glows red.
I’m Max’s pocket dragon and live in his breast pocket.
How did I wind up here, you ask? One of a proud fierce species reduced to mini size, dependent on a human, a mere pet?
I used to live in a cave on a hillside that overlooked the countryside hamlet of Rosedale. Sometimes when I ran out of food I would descend and scare the villagers into giving me food or gold.
I never killed them, because I was raised vegan and anyhow, I have to watch my cholesterol. Though sometimes I would scavenge when I was really hungry and eat leftovers discarded by other dragons or dumpster-dive for discarded McDonald’s hamburgers and other scraps.
Eventually the villagers grew tired of giving in to my demands, so one day they hired a mercenary to scare me off. That was Max.
I didn’t know then that he was also a skilled warlock, Grade 5, with a masters in magic and a minor in environmental science.
When Max approached my cave and waved his sword at me, I was taken aback. No one had tried to fight me in a very long time. But I was confident in my power and sharp claws.
I rushed forward with a roar, spewing out a burst of flame to scorch him. He staggered back but did not run away like most. Surprised, I paused my attack.
That was the advantage he needed. He put down his sword and took out a shiny device that looked like a black crystal box. Then he waved it in the air and pointed it at me as he muttered a spell.
I heard a hissing noise, then a sputtering as if air was being let out from a balloon. I felt dizzy, and suddenly couldn’t tell where I was.
Two giant legs loomed up above me, underneath a torso I had to crane my neck up to see.
Terrified, I began to crawl away among some nearby ants.
But Max scooped me up with a laugh, saying: “Now fearsome dragon, you can be my pet!” Then he gently put me in his pocket.
I admit, it was hard to adjust. At first, I felt angry, dismayed to be just an accessory for a mere human. I tried to escape, but the pocket was so deep, it was hard to jump out of. I could not go far with my tiny legs and wings, so Max would always just catch me by the tail and repocket me.
But now I know there are benefits to my size. I like not having to harass people for gold or hunt for my food. Max feeds me delicious food from cans labeled with pictures of cats.
I’m more popular in the village, where people take pictures of me and bring me treats. And I’ve made new friends—small ones, like birds or lizards.
The only creature I scare now is Max’s goldfish.
Sometimes we watch TV together, a thing my cave lacked, but human houses have.
When he dresses to go out for formal occasions, I grasp his tie like a tie clip. Other times, I dangle from his cellphone.
I’ve accepted the fact that the new world has grown too crowded for my old size. No more laying waste to forests and hoarding gold!
Max tells me I’m now part of a sustainable species, and I’m proud of that.
Lorraine Schein is a New York writer and poet. Her work has appeared in VICE Terraform, Strange Horizons, Scientific American, NewMyths and Michigan Quarterly, and in the anthologies Wild Women and Tragedy Queens: Stories Inspired by Lana del Rey & Sylvia Plath. Her new book, The Lady Anarchist Cafe, is out now from Autonomedia, available for purchase at https://autonomedia.org/product/the-lady-anarchist-cafe/.
Charlie Boatner has written comic books for DC and Vertigo, Marvel, and other publishers. He currently draws the webstrip Bureau of Beasties, which can be viewed at www.BureauofBeasties.com.