Paper Dragon
 

Once upon a time,
on a wall in a little house in a country far away,
there hung a beautiful paper dragon.

It was painted in the colours of the rainbow, and its pattern had many wonderful fairy tales to tell; tales about distant places and magic words, tales about deep forests and mystical songs, about travels on the sea and wanderings among the stars, tales about good and evil, about life and death.

Many years passed, and the people who lived in the house felt at ease with the dragon. It hung there as a beautiful picture with its tail attractively fastened to the cornice, creating a symbol of security, providing a homely atmosphere.

The colours of the dragon blended well with its surroundings. People who came to visit the house stopped to admire the gaily-coloured dragon, but no one ever asked about its pattern.

A couple of times, someone took it down from the wall, only to fix it on another wall in the little house, and arranged the tail slightly differently. Doing this, they experienced a kind of renewal, a sort of betterment of their lives.

Once, it came about that a stranger on his journeys passed by the house and happened to see the beautiful dragon hanging on the wall. But not even he noticed the pattern that promised so many beautiful fairy treasures. Without requesting permission, he carefully lifted down the dragon from its place. He loosened the needles that kept the tail firm, hung it over his arm and went out.

With skilled fingers he fastened the cord that was coiled around the dragon's cross-frame, and quickly went to an open place.

He carefully sensed the breeze, and cautiously played out the cord, whilst running into the wind.

Immediately, the dragon lifted into the air, and its exuberance snatched more and more of the the cord from the stranger's hands.

The people who lived in the house, had come outside and had gathered around the man with the dragon. They were astonished to see their beautiful picture flying above them, gaily coloured and with its long tail streaming behind it. They began to think that, perhaps, there was something about this dragon that they had previously not noticed.

As the wind freshened, it playfully caressed the exquisite wings of the dragon as it happily danced in its true environment. Without warning, the cord snapped, and the dragon soared higher and higher, further and further away from them. The wind and the dragon became as one. With the sun on its back, the dragon began to sing its songs of the wind and told the unique fairy-tales that were accumulated in its enigmatic pattern. All the while, the wind listened attentively, soon answering with his own songs. The dragon rose even higher and, after some time, the wind became so full of songs that they could be heard far and wide.

The dragon had become almost forgotten when, one day, it came about that even the people in the little house were reached by the songs of the wind. They found that there was something familiar about the song. Was it the colours?

Or maybe the pattern?

No one could tell, but it was an extremely beautiful song.

- Maria Kimdahl
Umea, Sweden.
http://www.kommunicera.umea.se/hemma/manahsiksa