I want to fight a dragon, but that is apparently very dangerous. First, the beast will swoop down from above in an attempt to capture me for dinner. I imagine its scales would shine a comforting purple in the light from the sun as it descends upon my helpless form. Second, the creature will land if it fails to grasp me in its blood-stained talons. Third, the dragon would reach out and eviscerate me with just one single claw. I think I would look down and see the contents hidden under my belly skin falling to the ground, helpless and dying.

At least, that is why my mom says I cannot fight a dragon. I think she is wrong though. First, I am very strong. I would be able to hang on to the beast's neck and not slip off of its shimmering scales. Second, I would be able to climb up its neck and gouge its giant, turquoise eyes out of the sockets. I believe that the blood spraying out of the dragon's eyes would be blue because dragons are different than humans. Third, I am agile enough to evade its terrifying talons and find my way to its liver, the organ that keeps it alive. I would use my knife to slice it up, spilling that cool, blue blood all over the green grass. Maybe the blue would absorb the green and make the grass yellow again.

But my mom won't let me try. She doesn't understand that I could save the world from the dragon. She doesn't want me to be like Wiglaf. I guess I can understand though. I bet Wiglaf went on to be absorbed by his glory and power, just like Beowulf before him. I bet both of them ignored the amazing women who went through a painful labor to have them. But I am different than Wiglaf and Beowulf. I don't want the glory. I just want to save the world from the dragon.

It is morning time now; my mom enters my room and turns on the light. I sit up. She is carrying a brown tray that holds a glass of orange juice, a piece of toast with egg on top, and a blue pill. My mom sits the tray on my nightstand and smiles at me. I immediately reach for the toast. When the crunchy first bite enters my mouth, I hum with excitement. I love the flavor that is created by the mixture of bread and egg. It is a soothing taste that reminds me of when I was young.

"How was your night?" my mom asks me as she places the wooden cross that I had cuddled with back on the wall. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept well. I had a dream about..." I start, "about giving you a big warm hug in the morning."

My mom sighs a wind of disappointment at my lie, "You don't have to lie to me. You can't control your dreams. Was it the purple dragon again?"

I nod as I swallow a bite of egg toast. I take a gulp of orange juice, leaving just a little left over in the glass. "Thank you for breakfast! I'm excited to get to work today. I finally feel well enough," I tell her.

"Good! Now don't forget to take your pill. You need it to stay well," she says.

I groan. She doesn't understand that the pills are bad for me. She thinks that they help me, but they don't. I really think that the pills are mixed with a poison because people think people like me aren't good. Many people think of me as dangerous, so they try to kill me while telling those who love me that their "treatments" will help me get "better." It makes me sad that people don't even try to understand that all I want to do is save the world.

"You've been taking your medicine well for a few weeks now. Let's keep up the habit. You'll be fired if you go back to how you were a month ago, and I can't stop that," my mom says, a smile forming on her small, frail lips.

I smile at her and reach for the pill. I put it in my mouth and show her my hands so that she knows it's really in there. When I bring the cup of orange juice to my mouth, I carefully bring the pill to my lip and drop it into the hand supporting the cup. I pour the rest of the orange juice into my mouth, audibly swallow, and show my mom that there is nothing left in my mouth.

"Thank you. I'll let you get ready now," she says as she walks out of my room.

As soon as the door shuts, I bend down and lift the floorboard near my bed. Underneath are sixty-three other pills, and I add the sixty-fourth. I wish my mom knew that this was just poison. I wish she knew that they just want to take me away from her. I wish they would just let me save the world in peace.

#

As I shower, I remember being younger: Dad walks into the house and hugs me. Then he hugs mom. Mom tells him that dinner will be ready in an hour, so dad tells me to come to the garage with him. We'll probably work on our bird house for mommy. Mommy says that she really wants a violet-backed starling to land on it. Those are her favorite birds I think.

When we get to the garage, dad and I get to work. It is slow going work, and it is not my favorite. But I know that dad likes spending time with me, and mommy will be very happy with the bird house. I love to see mommy happy.

"How was church yesterday, kiddo?" dad asks. He had to work, so mommy and I went alone.

"It was good," I said. "Mr. Johns got baptized. He said the water was cold, but that his soul felt much lighter. I don't get it."

"You'll get it someday son," dad said. A few minutes pass. Dad hammers some nails in place and then asks me to help him hold a few. I get pretty good at it after a few tries, except for the time where dad's hammer almost smashed into my finger and crushed my nail into my skin.

"Son, he really is amazing," he said. I look at him with confusion. "Jesus. How the man who is also God was willing to suffer and be humiliated on a cross for us. Really, we are worthless in our constant state of sin. It is just a love I don't understand. I have a hard time loving the homeless men on the street. They are drains on society... more so than you and me. But God's unconditional love is available to everyone if they choose it. It amazes me."

I think for a minute. Sometimes dad doesn't like it when I reply because I am just a second grader. He doesn't think I understand enough. I say, "Well, yeah. It's cool that he would want to save the world. But I don't get how he can send people to the fires if he loves them. I also don't get why he had to suffer if he was God and had the ability to do salvations however he wanted. I just don't get it yet I guess."

Dad's hammer slams down on his workbench close to the bird house. I jump back and gasp air into my lungs. Dad looks hurt, but he isn't crying so he must be okay. I pat his back to reassure him.

"Don't listen to your mom when she says those things. She just does not appreciate all that the Lord has done for us. Just remember that God loves you even though you are fully capable of devious sin. He will work through your wrong to create something beyond worthwhile. You just have to trust him," dad said.

#

When my mom pulls up to my work, I lean over, hug her, and peck her cheek. She wishes me a good day and tells me she will see me later. I step out of the car and look up at the restaurant. It is shaped like a castle. There is one tall tower on the right side, and the rest of the roof slopes to a point. The tiles on the roof are blue, and the walls are gray. It is my job to keep the castle safe and tidy.

The doors slide apart as I enter the building, so I thank the people who opened them. Methodically, the doors slide shut. I walk to the guard room at the back of the dining hall. There are two rows of lockers, one for boys and one for girls. I open the locker labeled with my name and change into my guard outfit. The pants are black. The shirt is sky blue. The hat is shaped like a miniature version of the castle. They still have not given me a sword yet, so I can't truly protect the castle. Still, I vow to do my best.

"Good morning," the head guard says. "I'd like you to wipe down the tables and clean up after the guests today please."

"Yes sir!" I say. I don't know why he tells me to do that every single day. It is the only thing that I do here. Clean tables. Pick up garbage. Repeat.

The head guard chuckles as she walks toward the kitchen area. She must be ordering the chef to do something. I contemplate helping her because it may impress the king and queen, but the last time I did that I got in trouble. I walk to the supply room and grab a wet rag and bucket. I realize that the mop bucket is gone, which probably means that the chef made a mess before I got to work. Water sloshes about as I walk to the tables. They look sort of dirty already, so I begin to clean them.

A lady walks in the door followed by two children as I scrub the tables. Her husband must not be with her right now. The trio walks to the desk and ask for some food. I try to remember that the lady asked for a soda and a cheeseburger, the child one asked for a milk and chicken nuggets, and the child two asked for an apple juice and a chicken sandwich. They may need my help if the chef messes up the order, which tends to happen a lot.

I continue cleaning the tables, avoiding the ones with people eating peacefully. Around five minutes pass, and another lady walks in alone. She walks over to the lady with the children and surprises me. The ladies hug each other tightly and kiss on their mouths. I gasp loudly because this is forbidden by the God. They turn to look at me, and they must see the disgust because they immediately call for Head Guard.

Head Guard comes out, sees the ladies who kissed, and sees my face that is burning as hot as the fires in the kitchen. I grab my bucket and run to the supply room with tears in the corners of my eyes. I did not mean to hurt them. I just want to make sure that God's plan is carried out as he sees fit. When I get there, I realize that the water had completely fallen out. I begin to panic, but then I remember that the God also forbids panicking. I begin to ask Him for a solution.

"Save the world," He tells me.

"But how?" I ask. "Please tell me how!"

"The dragon. You must stop the evil purple dragon," the God says.

I stop breathing heavily and listen. I hear a loud roar quickly approaching; I notice the shaking that must have caused me to spill the water. I know what I must do.

I step out of the supply room, and I can feel my body trembling. I blame the dragon and the rumbling ground. The roar is quickly approaching. I rush to the kitchen, and the chefs look at me in surprise. I look for something I can use to stop the dragon, but I see nothing.

"What do you need?" asks one of the chefs.

"Something..." I say. I stop myself from continuing the sentence because the chef would not understand that I need to destroy the dragon. That I need to save the world like Wiglaf and Beowulf before him. I don't need this chef to treat me like a Grendel when I am a better-than Wiglaf.

Then I see it, perched in the corner. The stick leans against the point where the walls come together, stuck in some apparatus that hides the pointy part. I run to the corner, grab the stick, and pull. It resists me at first, but eventually it realizes who I am and pops out at the begging of my desperate palms. I see the sharp end, loaded with hundreds of mini-knives. This will work. I will kill the dragon.

The roar of the dragon is much closer now, and I know that time is becoming critical. I rush out of the castle; the sunlight and the wind smack my face, making me understand the gravity of the situation. If I do not kill the dragon now, it will destroy everything. I run around the building to the ladder at the back. If I am going to kill the dragon, then I need to have a vantage point to see if approach the scene.

I scale the ladder faster than any guard has before me. I approach the tower and begin the second ascent. I am careful to keep every step up on the ledges so that I don't fall. At the top, I can no longer hear the sound of the beast's ferocious voice, nor can I feel the trembling earth beneath its powerful wings. I know that I am in control.

I raise my weapon above my head and shout, "Kind people! Please! Enter the castle quickly so that you may be safe. The dragon approaches, and I must engage in the decisive battle with it!"

Some people use their pocket cameras to take pictures of me, but I shout at them again. They need not die in this fight. And then I see it. Approaching on the horizon is the dragon, its purple scales reflecting a power as strong as the sun. Fear lightninged up my stomach and throat, straight to my brain. I ask the God to calm me because I cannot risk fear at this crucial moment.

"Foul beast!" I shout. "Approach with fear because I shall kill you. I shall save the world!"

A child screams and drops a chicken nugget. I realize it is the child one, and the ladies rush toward him. Even if the women are evil, the child is not, and they may need help. I hear the God implanting an idea in my brain. The dragon is close now, approaching from the ground. The God's idea becomes clear.

"Protect yourself!" I yell at the ladies. One of them looks at me. I raise the weapon above my head and aim just to the left of the three people. "Use this if I can't get there quickly enough!" I launch the weapon at them, safe-end first.

One of the two women screams, and I watch with horror. The weapon lurches through the air, and the wind blows it to the left just a little more than intended. It is flying straight toward child two. I hear a siren in the distance, barely audible over the roar of the dragon. One lady jumps toward the child, but she is too late. The weapon's safe-end slams into the child two's right leg, and there is a snap.

My face must have turned as white as the clothes of the risen Christ. Still, I had to overcome this setback. I had to kill the dragon. I jump off the tower and onto the roof of the castle. I reach the ladder and begin to climb down. In the back of my visual field, I see the dragon coming into the parking lot. It must've heard the snap of the child's tibia. Sirens are approaching quickly too.

Somewhere between the dragon's roar, the sirens' wail, the quaking earth, the child's cries, the ladies' yells, and my racing thoughts, I lose balance on the fifth rung from the top. I begin to tumble down. Before my head hits the hard ground, I think, Will they be able to put me back together again?

#

My mind floods with memories when the pavement cradles my skull: Dad and I put the finishing touches on the bird house. It has taken us three weeks to finish it, and we are proud! I know that mommy will love it. I painted it grey with some purple on the top. I think the purple will entice the violet-backed starlings. The bird house itself has four walls. The roof slopes, and the right side has a tower. The front has a door that is always open.

Dad leans back and smiles at me. I beam back at him. This is how I know he loves me. We share proud moments like these instead of exchanging the words. It must be normal for everyone to love their dad this way, through odd behavioral declarations of the abstract concept of love. It reminds me a bit of Jesus. A line of light shines through the garage window, highlighting the colors of the bird house.

"Mommy is going to love this dad!" I say, the excited words shooting out of my mouth faster than a cheetah can run.

He places a hand on my shoulder and says, "Yes she is!" We just admire the fruit of our labor for a moment. Finally, we can take off the yoke of burden and lay our heads to rest. Mommy will be happy again.

"You know, you will need someone like mommy someday," dad says. "To keep you happy and to support you in life. You need someone you can support and love despite her flaws."

"Yeah. I think I do want a family," I say. I let a few moments pass before trusting my dad with information, "Dad? Is second grade too young to ask someone to go with you?"

"Buddy, I love your mannerisms, but what do you mean?" he asks.

"Like is it okay to ask someone to hold hands with you and hug you sort of like you hug with mommy?" I say.

"I guess it just depends," dad says. "If you're just friends, then it's probably not bad. You definitely shouldn't be dating though. You are too young to understand the complexities that come with such relationships."

I huff a breath of air out, "Okay. I was just wondering because I really like Jacob. He is very nice to me and doesn't treat me mean. I think he'd be a good person to love like you love mommy. But I get what you mean... I can just wait a while. I was just excited." I smile a little.

Dad's face erupted in a series of changes before my eyes. His eyes become as wide as the sun; his mouth turns circular as the earth's equator. I try to figure out what happened. Maybe a violet-backed starling had already come to check out the bird house! I stood up and started to go get mommy because it wouldn't be right to see her bird without her.

As I start to walk away, dad grabs my arm and yanks me back to him. I look at him and the shock has been replaced by anger. His eyes look sad, but his face is red. I try to think of what I did wrong, but I cannot figure it out. Dad places me over his lap and pulls my jeans down, exposing my bottom to the air.

"You shall not play with Jacob again!" dad yells, and his palm shuttles down onto my bare skin. It stings like the sting of a bee, except millions of them. Then there is a dull ache. "You must never talk like that again!" dad roars, shuttling his palm back onto my bottom. Tears fly out of my eyes and burn a trail of sadness down my cheeks.

"I-I-I," I start to say, but dad hits me again. The pain is so bad that I want to scream. "I just like him! He's a nice friend, and I want to learn to love him. I'm sorry daddy!"

Dad must not understand me because he smacks me again and again and again. Throughout, he yells at me about how despicable I am and how I mustn't talk to Jacob ever again. He tells me that there will never be love between me and Jacob like there is between daddy and mommy. I keep trying to explain to him that it isn't love yet and that I get that he thinks I am too young, but he won't listen. Apparently, dad never had a crush.

"Why won't you understand?" dad shouts at me. He holds me tight to his lap with one hand and picks up the bird house with the other. He holds it as if it is a newborn and says, "Maybe you will understand what it means to have a gift you want to share taken advantage of after this." His voice is shaky, mixed with sadness and anger. I don't know what he is going to do.

But I feel it. The bottom of the bird house makes contact with my skin, and the pain skyrockets. The grey wood bites me, and its bite remains, even after its jaws have unclamped. Dad brings the bird house back down, and the force of the hit causes the wood to break. The tower flies away from us and hides under the car, making it the only safe place within the vicinity of my punishment.

Again, dad brings the bird house down on my burning bottom. I scream in pain, but he tells me to be quiet and accept it. He repeats the action, and I scream. He repeats the action, and I scream. He asks if I am done. I nod. He repeats the action, and I scream again. And then I feel wetness running down the back of my leg. I think I peed myself, but I don't know how my penis could have been aimed at the back