DRAGON SONG

It was the early hours of the morning and there wasn't much traffic, in fact none, and the bike seemed content to look after itself, the exhaust giving out a pleasant throb. The surreal effect of the orange lighting cast over the motorway combined with the constantly moving vista had cradled his brain like a soft hazy pillow. His mind began to drift back--.

Jean had thrown him out screaming, "If yer so fond of yer fuckin mates and that bike you can try screwing THEM!" She also intimated that moving into a pig sty would probably be a step up the social ladder. Unfortunately his rather limited brain capacity couldn't comprehend the non subtle innuendo, but he was fed up with the place anyway. So stuffing a few things into a haversack he cranked up his chopper and left, without much idea of where to go except for some vague idea of heading in the general direction of Amsterdam and getting stoned out of his face for a week or two. He didn't care much at the moment he was just glad to be leaving everything behind, the demands for rent which he always managed to piss up the wall after frequent drunken binges, the police and 'women'. He just could not comprehend why they seemed to get attached after one good fuck, which was precisely the point where he lost interest. No! there wasn't much he would miss.

Money had to be recovered from various acquaintances and safe places, it would keep him in booze and blow for a while until he could think of something, or somewhere, to hang out, but at this moment all he could think of was, Where the Fuck! was that pub Taz had been on about?

Turning up unannounced on Taz's doorstep, who was now semi settled down with his lady, had not gone down too well. Gill took a dim view of the smelly oily apparition that stood at the entrance to her domain. Having managed to get her man into some resemblance of a humanbeing over these past couple of years, she didn't like the idea of 'Satan Incarnate' entering her cave and influencing the hard won status quo. It was only after the threatened withdrawal of pussy rights, and pointing out in a very persuasive manner, that she would modify the four into one exhaust system, residing in the hall, into the shape of his head, if he didn't see sense, that the traveler was allowed one meal and his clothes washed and dried. The direction to the pub, 'a good drinking hole', was given as a parting gift.

He was beginning to get thirsty as at last the goal hoved into view, or rather earshot. Over the various rattles and exhaust noise he heard music. Someone was doing an excellent spirited rendition of 'Whole lota Rosie', which could be heard a whole block away. Adopting the cool laid back slob image honed over the years, he glided, or bounced may have been a better description, into the car park. In a moment of uncoolness he pondered the wisdom of solid rear ends on choppers as the effects of the back wheels contact with the kerb threatened to make his spine shorter than it should be. The machine was propped on its side stand amongst the other bikes and the carb's gave a cross between a sigh and a gasp as the ignition was cut. As the first drop of oil hit the ground he remembered a forgotten chore, Must fix that loose chain link, he thought to himself.

The thought was instantly forgotten as the smell of hops reached his nose and led him to the entrance. Stepping into the dim light his boots sank into a soft carpet of sawdust which had been spread liberally across the floor. At the bar which blazed out like a beacon in the dim light, he ordering a pint of Scrumpy cider, the cloudy variety that is guaranteed to send people permanently blind and stupid if taken to excess, from a Goth with a live Python snake wrapped around her neck. At first he thought it was a scarf, until it moved. Promptly taking a step backwards he stood on someone's foot and had to grunt an apology, or face the combined might of several meaty looking individuals standing behind him

Drink in hand, he wandered out into the backyard to lean against a whitewashed wall while the band thrashed out another couple of raucous lively numbers to the obvious delight of the crowd. The gathered throng was composed of leather jacketed long haired men, Punks and Crusties in a variety of weird colour uncoordinated styles, women in short skirts or witchy looking, Goths and Gothettes, and slightly bewildered and uncomfortable looking Townies that had wandered in by mistake. The drink had got the better of one young man, he was trying to kiss a woman seated by a table, rather strangely, from behind! In a failed attempt to keep his balance he only succeeded in dragging the poor wench with him as he did a slow toppled sideways onto the ground. She seemed in no hurry to get up as she was trapped beneath his limp body and actually seemed to be enjoying the experience. Meanwhile the rest of the patrons stepped over them as if it was the most normal thing in the world to step over couples lying on the ground.

Back at the bar, glass now empty and leaning absentmindedly against the bar, he watched two mongrels that were chasing each through the sawdust, one was short and stocky with a studded collar and a sort of permanent grin, the other lean with an erect tail and a look of quiet disdain. Both stopped and eyed him up as if trying to decide whether to piss on his boots or not. After a moments thought both animals decided that a lamp post might be a safer option and chased each other out of the door, skillfully nudging enough backs of legs just hard enough to cause drinks to be spilled and curses to be uttered.

He idly turned his gaze to the other end of the bar where his eyes came to rest on a shapely backside wrapped in a short tight skirt. Her head was crowned by long black hair which framed her face, and dark eye make-up that enhanced the paleness of her skin. She was black; not black skinned but dressed in black; knee high lace up boots, tights, or were they stockings? His groin twitched. She also stood alone cradling a drink in both hands, a fact that seemed strange in a place that was so crowded.

A petite blonde stood next to him. Her man, large, wide and bearded, had castrated any thoughts he may have had in that direction with one withering glance, but now he seemed to be heading for the gents. Seizing the opportunity he turned to her and asked if she knew the woman in black. The eyes looked up through the blonde fringe with a slightly amused look. The look became a slightly introspective one as she seemed to gather her thoughts.
  "No one seems to know much about her, we've spoken a few times, I quite like her." She leaned closer.
  "Some people say she's a witch or something. Apparently two 'Jack The Lad' bikers tried to steal her leather jacket once, she caught them just before they could get away with it. She didn't loose her temper though, she just asked for it back and stood looking at them until they left. Three days later they were both killed in a horrendous crash on the M6 in a stolen car. The story goes that the body's were so mutilated that it was difficult to identify them, and there were some terrible injuries that didn't seem to relate to the accident, but the inquest never reached any conclusions. I think it's all exaggerated rumors, or jealousy, we seem to get on OK."
What a load of crap!! he was about to say, when her man loomed into view, so he quickly diverted his attention to the other end of the bar and the object of his interest.

Driven by the urging in his loins he sidled closed until he could catch her eye.
  "I'd love a piece of your ass." For some strange reason this line always seemed to work, or at least in his mind it did, which also conveniently forgot all the failures? She looked at him and smiled.
  "Isn't the rest of me any good then?" His brain registered a score and he immediately ordered another pint of addle brain, never thinking of asking her if she wanted a drink. She just stood and looked at him with a faint smile on her lips.
  "God! I could fuck you.
  "What's stopping you?" His jaw dropped to half mast and his boot slipped off the foot rail.
  "You look like you could do with somewhere to sleep for the night?", She took the grunt as a yes looking strait into his eyes with an uncomfortably piercing gaze.
  "There's only one thing I ask of you; don't ever leave me without saying goodbye."

He couldn't remember much of the conversation after that, as he drifted through a few pints of Scrumpy and a nice bit of Skunk he had lit up. They seemed to talk for a long time but he couldn't quite recall any of it, it all seemed to blend into the general haze. At one point he noticed what looked like a small spider hanging from a thread on her hair which seemed to disappear as soon as he noticed it. Somewhere in the dim recesses of is brain something was trying to make connections between spiders and flies but failing miserably. She was saying something about owning a bike just as he went all hazy again. He put it down to the drink.

Before they were finally ejected into the night she leaned across the bar and whispered something to the landlord, a short wiry guy, bearded with long hair and tattoos, who's eyes seem to have a strange flash of red as he turned to glance in his direction. The eyes flashed again as he raised his head and addressed the remaining stragglers.
  "Will you all drink up and FUCK OFF! Some of us wanna go to bed!"

As they stepped out into the cool night the dog with the collar had just finished emptying the contents of its bladder over the back wheel of his bike. Realising the impending danger it scooted of to join its friend at a safe distance. A full bright moon was lighting up the sky and both the dogs seemed to sit in a pool of it. It was beginning to annoy him that they seemed to have it in for him, the way they were looking at him seemed full of malice. If they had been human he would resorted to violence but they could certainly outrun him and they knew it.

A helmet had somehow magically appeared from behind the bar before they left, she pulled it over her head as he fired up the engine; it never had let him down, and this time was no exception. Climbing onto the rear mudguard to perched on the lump of rubber that passed as a pillion seat, she exposed a great amount of thigh and crotch to the obvious delight of a gaggle of half sodden punters loitering in the car park. They set off to the roar of exhaust noise, cat calls and hoots, even the dogs barked. With her arms around him leaning lightly on his back giving directions and the prospect of releasing a load of pent up lust, life felt good, very good.

With a light mist forming that seemed to make all the roads look the same, the journey seemed to take an eternity. At one point he could swear they were riding round in circles and just moving closer to their destination by one street before going round in another circle, but eventually she signaled him to stop. She produced a set of keys from the recesses of her leather jacket and opened the door to her flat revealing a flight of stairs. They climbed up and she switched on the landing light. For the first time, away from the dim light and distractions of the pub he noticed the dragons. The silver rings on her fingers, in fact all her jewelry, had dragons as a feature, everywhere he looked there were ornaments, designs, pictures, all in some way connected with dragon imagery. As she took off her jacket there was even a tattoo on her left shoulder, a creature in a defensive pose looking quite malicious. It had been the large wall painting on the stairway had first caught his attention as the light came on, a representation of a dragon sitting on its haunches, wings out stretched. It also had that illusional property that gave the impression that eyes were following the viewer, as if watching.

She beckoned him to follow into the bedroom which had a faint musky, not unpleasant smell. She lit two candles standing on a dressing table, one red in colour and the other green, both burned with an almost unnatural steady flame that never seemed to flicker. Reaching out, he grasped her by the waist and pulled her towards him. There was no resistance as he started to pull at her clothing at the same time struggle with his own, until they both fell onto the bed in a passionate embrace. The faint musky odore seemed to come from every pore of her body and it was driving him wild. He didn't seem to be in control of his body anymore, every nerve was screaming and his mind seemed to be full of blazing light. He had never had an experience like it, nothing was refused. As the passion increased, her moans were becoming louder and more animal like until he stifled her cries with his hand, worried that someone might think a murder was being committed. The last thing he wanted was some nosey fart calling the police out, especially as he hadn't paid the road tax on his bike for a couple of years and it was sitting outside in full view.

Eventually laying spent and exhausted, the faint smell of bodily fluids lingering in his beard and a faint smile on his lips, he reach over to his jacket to recover his tin and lighter and proceeded to roll a joint.

She lay face down, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed breathing lightly, eyes closed with her face towards him. The candles had burned out and now the room was filled with moonlight. His sexual appetite now satiated, he looked at her properly for the first time. She seemed to be in her thirties physically, but there was something about her that suggested great age. For a moment it made him feel uneasy; he took a draw on the rollup.
  "What's with the dragons?" It was a question that wouldn't leave his mind, it kept coming back no matter how he tried to ignore it. She stirred slightly and answered without opening her eyes.
  "It was long, long ago. They came to me in a time of need. It was a time when I was very much alone and no one else would help me."
  "Come off it woman! Your telling me you believe in dragons." She carried on as if she hadn't heard him.
  "They keep me company and I journey with them. They sometimes make me laugh and when the time is right, they sing, when they sing nothing else matters; it means they accept me."
Fuck! I can't be bothered with this bollocks, he thought, then promptly rolled over and fell asleep.

It was still dark when he woke, yet it felt like he had been asleep for hours. She was asleep, breathing lightly beside him. He lay in the dark for a while, slowly becoming more and more restless. I'll fuck off, he thought. If I stick around she'll only come on with all that shit about, "Will I see you again?" and then want to cook me breakfast. I don't want any more of that Bollocks! He rolled himself off the bed, and relieved himself as quietly as he could in the bathroom while suppressed a fart, the likes of which he was notoriously proud of and could have woken the dead. Pulling on his clothes he stole out of the flat pushing his bike to the end of the street where he urged it into life. He felt good, life was going his way and he was enjoying it.

*      *       *

His mind drifted back from the recollections of the last twentyfour hours. It seemed to be hours since he left and he was breezing along a deserted motorway. It was also still dark with the phosphorescent glow of the instruments standing out against the dark moving tarmac and the white line stretching out into eternity.
  "Must be losing my sense of time?" he said to himself and the night. Still, it was unusual to have an empty road to enjoy all to himself. He pulled back hard on the twist grip. The engine growled, exhilaration flooded through his body as the wind increased the pressure on his arms.

Suddenly, it was dawn...

He was doing well above the motorway speed limit when it happened. One minute it was night then with no warning it was day. It just broke, in the blink of an eye it was light and all three lanes in front of him were full. There was no way he could have stopped. Well maybe?, if the weak link hadn't decided to let the rear chain turn into a flail. The necklace of high tensile steel scythed through the air towards his back at the same time as his front wheel hit the rear guard rail of the T.N.T. lorry that was breaking hard in front.

It was night again...

He was lying on his back, he could feel grass pressing against the back of his head, helmet gone, eyes staring up into a starless ink black sky. At some distance away he became aware of a commotion, flashing lights and people milling about. Somewhere a woman's voice cried out.
  "Oh Christ! What a mess! Oh God!"

He heard the sound of an engine approaching from behind him, it sounded like a large motor cycle. Rolling over and sitting up he peered into the gloom. The bike had stopped and the rider was dismounting, still too far away for him to make any attempt at recognition. The figure kicked out the side stand and started to move towards him. Something made a flapping noise, a sound like heavy tent canvas in a strong breeze, but there was no movement of air, all was still. As the rider removed the helmet a mass of long black hair fell over the shoulders. The moon seemed to get brighter and bigger. In a flash of insight he knew who the rider was, and realisation dawned that he did not know her name, he had never asked, and she hadn't asked his. How had she managed to catch up? he had been traveling for hours and she had been asleep when he left. As she moved towards him he began to make out the details of her face, her lips black in the moon light carrying the trace of a smile. Her skin looked whiter than he remembered and the eye sockets looked even darker and more sunken. He found he was able to make out her eyes even in the gloom even at this distance. He wished he hadn't. Something about them was wrong, very wrong, they looked almost snake-like. He wanted to speak but no words would form in his throat. The moon blinked, it was as if the whole sky had moved. Now he felt a cold fear clamp around his heart as part of the blackness detached itself from behind her and moved towards him.

Somehow he knew that it was a claw even before it reached out to touched him and the paralysis of fear froze him in its iron grip. As the talons began to close about him and tighten their crushing icy cold embrace, he began to scream, a long silent scream that would last for eternity.

*      *       *

She sat on the bike for a while watching the flashing lights and seemed to be talking softly to herself. Anyone that would have been lucky, or charmed, enough to be close, would have heard the slow thudding beat of an enormous heart and a warm wind coming and going like the breathing of huge lungs. As she turned she seemed lost in thought.
  "They never learn do they. Once dragons sing for you they never leave." She paused for a moment.
  "Did you my angel." As she spoke the words she smiled sweetly at the darkness that gathered before her.

And the sound of the warm wind could have almost been mistaken for words, words spoke in ancient forgotten tongues that wove layer upon layer of feeling into every subtle breath, words that even mortals, if they cared to listen, would comprehend deep inside themselves......

"We love you."

*      *       *

No one looked up from the carnage and tangled mess as a lone rider passed slowly by glancing at the wreckage, then accelerated away into the grey dawn. A police patrol officer turned away from the pool of blood and mangled flesh he was standing by. Something made him glance up at the sky and for a brief moment he saw a shadow pass across the fading moon. Something made him think that he 'should' recognise what it was but he couldn't get a handle on it. After a few moments he shrugged his shoulders and walked back to his vehicle, his thoughts wandering back to filing his paperwork, then his wife and spending some time with his children.

FIN

AFTERWORD

This story was started in 1992, the late 80's and early 90's being a very 'interesting ' time in my life. A lot of the places and characters are only thinly disguised real people and quite a lot of the the experiences of the nameless woman actually happened to me, although not at the same time or in the same manner. The consequences that follow in the story I have often wished I could inflict on certain individuals.

Anyone that frequented the 'Pump and Tap' in Leicester (in the UK for foreign readers) will have no trouble recognising the place. At that time it had a kind of magical quality as did a lot of the patrons. It is still there if you care to find it but the magic has dissipated.

Sadly, I think places like that only occur once at a certain conjunction of time, space and peoples lives. The lucky ones are those that can recognise it. If you find such a place you will know it. However alien it may look, you will feel at home. I tried to sum up my feelings once in a poem 'The company of lost souls', bad poetry, but I had to get it down somehow. It's on the poetry page if you want to read it.

If this story gives you enjoyment or takes you out of yourself for a brief moment I will be happy. I am also happy to receive comments good or bad (hopefully the former) on any of my work so don't feel shy about e-mailing me.

Zoe 2001