Originally Written 01/2025

tags:

Prompt: "Every dragon has a treasure hoard, yes. But not all dragons hoard something as banal as gold and gems. Some of us have more ... refined ... tastes."

submitted to r/WritingPrompts by u/Time-Weekend-8611

I lost my parents when I was very young, too young to really remember them much. Even if I can't remember them, I can't forget the burn marks left over from the fire.

the orphanage the kids would make fun of me, saying it's like a dragon burned my back. I did not like dragons.

When I was finally adopted, I was taken in by "Gramps" as I came to call him, he never seemed as old as he really was, always had this glint in his eye. Like he never really grew up.

He would tell me Fantastical bedtime stories, world's full of Heroes and monsters.

When he first brought up a dragon I freaked out, probably a little too much. What if one got into our house. what if it happened again.

He got that glint in his eye, told me there already was one, up in the attic, but it's fine, because he will protect me... I stayed away from the attic.

One day I heard him fretting over the bills in the kitchen, lamenting that it would be difficult to pay them.

i knew what I had to do. I needed to fight it for it's hoard of gold.

he woke up to me banging on the fold out attic door with a broomstick handle. And the mop bucket on my head.

He told me that night, that while the dragon is up there it does not hoard gold, but something just as valuable. Something that cannot be bought or sold. But it's all locked away with a hidden key.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Eventually i grew up, life got busy, I went through school, graduated and went to attend college. Then I got the call.

It was the hospital back in my hometown, Gramps had collapsed. I dropped everything and rushed back.

The doctor said it did not look good, I was luckly i made it in time. His body was giving up, but was still awake.

When I came in, I could tell it wouldn't be long. his breaths were irregular, but he still had that glint in his eye.

"You'll finally come back huh, are you ready to finally steal the dragon's hoard?"

What? I said in bewilderment

"Nightstand, that's where the key is."

When I asked him what he meant he practically went into a frenzy, cackling and wheezing, an alarm for the machine hooked up to him went off.

Doctors ushered me out of the room before I could get any more words out.

It was only 30 minutes of waiting. When they finally came back out they told me he was gone. I couldn't believe it, it was only 30 minutes. He was just there, perfectly fine still with that glint in his eye.

It all happened so fast, I did not know what to do, I did not know what to think. I just. walked away.

I just couldn't think, I did not know what was happening. The only thing I did know is I had to go see and that dragon In the Attic.

I made it to his house, he kept a spare key taped to the bottom of the mailbox.

Going inside it was the same as I remembered, the old man did always like the way he had the rooms laid out. His favorite recliner, the tea kettle he kept on the stove.

I stumbled up the stairs, his room, his bed I would crawl into when I would have nightmares. and in the drawer of his nightstand, a key.

opening the Attic door, I pulled down the little ladder. And slowly climb up into the dusty room.

I fumble around trying to find the light until I feel a cord and pull it. A solitary light bulb lighting up the room.

Among the cardboard boxes, in one corner sits an ornate wooden chest. Carved along its top is the intricate pattern of a dragon.

I insert the key and turn, within the chest is a collection of things, drawings I made of me and Gramps as a kid, the little origami paper crafts he taught me how to make, pictures of me and Gramps on that fishing trip we went on together.

In the hood of the chest, a piece of paper has been taped, titled "hoard of memories"

I closed the chest and remove the key. turning around and rest my back against it. I hug my knees to my chest, griping the key so hard it leaves marks in my hand. And I Cry.