Boom Boom Boom
The insistent rhythm of the bass drum pulses through my body, and my heart pounds with an intrinsic beauty - so pure and true I require no external eyes to observe and approve.
Humans have some issues with dancing. Sure, they can fling their arms and legs around like monkeys, but their spines… Their spines are a prison. The lumbar spine in the lower back is flexible and free, but the thoracic spine in the middle back is rigid and tight. The ribcage steals 90% of motion. As a dragon, you don’t have that problem because you’re all spine from head to tail!
My whole body can swirl, writhe, and coil into any direction, any shape!
And my scales? Beautiful chromatic rainbows that capture every twinkle of starlight, shimmering like a living disco ball, with the light undulating in time with my own rhythm.
The trance synthesizers build, and I uncoil to my full twelve-foot length and soar, like a winged snake, rippling through the vastness of the cosmos. For one brilliant second, I float freely, weightless within infinite space.
Alice Deejay’s diva-like voice slices through the music, a call to action! “Do you think you’re better off alone?”
And as I flap my wings hard, climbing up and up, I can only answer that I am better off alone. Here, in the depths of space, with nothing but music and a supremely flexible body? Alone is all I need.
The break hits, the drums dissolve, and the melody line plays in repetition as other softer synthesizers build in rising counterpoint.
I’m no Sleeping Beauty dragon, not one of those hulking beasts you’d find in Western fairy tales, all fat torso and tiny arms. I’m a Chinese dragon - a majestic snake with four clawed legs, a lion’s face, and large feathery wings. Horns rise from the space between my bright eyes, but they’re not scary like a demon’s horns - they’re majestic, a representation of my power!
The kick drums come charging back in, and I’m off like a locomotive pushing through the airy trance atmosphere. Boom! Boom! Boom! Cruising towards the nearest planet - I flap my wings, in rhythm to the beat. That incessant call in the core of me cries to fly higher! Dance harder! Live stronger!
The bass drum recedes, leaving just hi-hats and melody, and I’m inside the planet’s atmosphere. Gravity’s created its own rhythmic pull. For one tense moment, I’ve lost the beat! Similar to being pulled away by a river’s current, this new world’s gravity is an overwhelming force. I struggle against the undeniable pull and pressure. My body is buffeted by arrhythmic gusts of wind.
I tune out the howls of the gale, listen again to the music, and wiggle in time with its pulse. Like a surfer finding a wave, I catch the current of gravity, and I’m dancing again. The breeze now refreshing rather than threatening, the pressure is a massage.
Weaving through the cotton candy clouds, flying over the lilac-colored sea, with intermittent green islands speckling the water’s vastness, I’m free again!
It’s all just drums now, and I dance a magnificent figure-eight, an evolving infinity sign. To be in constant rolling spinal motion like this? The infinite isn’t just a concept, it courses through me!
With one final little whoosh, the music ends, and I land with a flourish on a little islet.
I briefly consider starting another song, but the air turns oily, with that rusty flavor of greed, and the unmistakable stench of a tainted Kapaala; that energetic sheath of desire that shrouds every one of us. Of course, desire is what makes us fun, but too much gets dark. Suddenly, the scent goes sour, and the mood gets tense.
That telltale scent means someone nearby is engaging in their worst impulses.
***
It doesn’t take long before I spot it — some sort of luxury space yacht anchored in the middle of an otherwise unoccupied expanse of open sea. Well, unoccupied except for a litter of small vessels nestled up next to it, like piglets around their mama. That’s where the bad Kapaala smell’s coming from.
The opulent deck is littered with fallen bodies. A group of masked men, armed with lasers, knives, and swords surround a beautiful young woman. Everyone’s got deep purple skin and is tall and lean. The invaders are steeped in dark energy, so I don’t hesitate to fly full speed into the battle.
“What the hell is that?!” One guy screams as he sees me.
From here, it’s another type of dance - I blink twice and open my astral iPod and scroll through my playlists; it’s time for some battle music! “Stay” by Alphazone. My body tenses, not with fear over their weapons, but with that ‘hell yeah’ feeling that comes when the DJ hits you with a peak burst of after-hours hard beats. The sort of music that’ll keep you dancing after 3 am.
You’ve been all radiant angel of light and dance for hours, but with the introduction of jackhammer drums, skittering snares, aggressive bass, and howling synths, you’re transformed into flailing limbs, fist punches, and the repetitive slam dance bob of the head.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
For a space dragon, that’s all combat is - a different type of dance.
The bass drum, an aggressive pulse, urges my adrenaline on, and I dive headfirst into one of the raiders. He falls to the ground - his gun clatters to the deck.
Briefly, I lock eyes with the woman, and for a split second, the music pauses, time freezes, and I lose myself to the depths that lie within.
I see her, not just the beautiful shell; tall, smooth body, long neck, firm jaw, and gleaming red eyes. No, I see in her that same intrinsic beauty I’d felt in myself just moments prior.
And I see, too, a recognition in her for me.
The moment passes, play is pressed, but the depth of connection between the two of us leaves me wanting to show off a little to the pretty girl.
“Stay,” the song’s singer whispers in a sensuous voice, as the song’s energy builds and builds towards a crescendo. I slither in circles on the deck, through the legs of the shocked invaders, and then rise to full height, towering over them. I smile and say in a loud and sinister whisper, “Don’t run away, please stay,” mirroring the singer’s own words.
Several of the ones with the weaker Kapaala retreat - jumping off the yacht to their own skiff. They’re the lucky ones.
The woman is crouched down off to the side now, ignored by all but me. The wetness of her hair, the hotness of her eyes, it spurs me on.
A high-pitched howl of noise hits in the mix, just as one of the men shoots a volley of laser blasts straight into me. The blasts are loud and off-rhythm enough to sound like a half-ass live remix by a newbie DJ. My scales are strong enough to withstand the emptiness of space, my aura stronger than a sun’s. But one of the blasts hits at just the right angle to pierce through! A scale is torn from my flank! Pain poisons the pleasure, and a little rage rises within my breast.
It’s an eight-bar loop of building trance energy, and I ride with clenched fangs. I coil around the guy who attacked me, grip his ankle in my tail’s tip, and fly higher and higher into the sky.
His screams blend with the dance track until the drums drop out, and he stops screaming, as if he can hear the music too. But it’s not that, he’s just now realized how far up in the air he is, and how impossible it would be for him to survive a fall from this height.
The drums return, and I drop him, free-falling towards the deck, but I don’t let him die, I grab his foot at the last moment and start to soar circles around the boat. The rest of the pirates stare in astonishment; they’ve never dealt with anyone like me before.
Just as the song climaxes, I rise fifteen feet in the air and then slam the guy down hard against the deck. My eyes glow with dangerous beauty as I look at each of the men in turn, daring them to try something. Then, with more timidity, I shoot a glance to the ‘damsel in distress’ and stifle a sly smile.
“Your call,” I say, in my deeply resonant voice. “I wipe you out, or you drop your weapons and stand over there,” one clawed hand points to an open space on the deck.
Each drops his weapon without a second’s hesitation. Meekly, they come together in the center of the deck and stand in a small circle.
I draw in the air around me and feel the energy build in my heart center. It starts as an idea, then travels to more lungs, like a sensuous smoke, and there it builds heat and purpose, rises through my throat, and then explodes out of my mouth as a blast of prismatic energy that cascades over the defeated men.
As the wave crashes against them, their Kapaala shatters. The men lose their dark side and their consciousness in one fell swoop.
The lingering shards of Kapaala float darkly in the air around their bodies. Now I breathe in instead of out, drinking up their aura. What smelled vile tastes surprisingly delicious. The bitterness is similar to that of the darkest of chocolates.
Inside me, it transforms, from evil to energy to life itself! These men and their petty greed make only a minor meal, though. It’ll stave off hunger, but won’t allow me to grow in size or power.
Finished with my task and sure now that the men are no danger, I slither over to the girl, trying my best to act casual and cool. She’s even more stunning up close than afar! I gasp at the sight of her.
Her tall, lithe, deep purple body is dressed in a one-piece bathing suit, strapless on her left shoulder. Her deep black hair is waist-length, and those eyes, those eyes which speak of more than words.
Maybe I’m not better off alone, after all, I silently muse.
She recoils from me. I can’t blame her; my dragon form paints a frightening picture.
Like closing a Nokia flip phone, I fold the dragon form inside itself, and with a brief flash of light, I stand transformed into my human form. The body feels restrictive, like wearing tight clothes after a day of lounging in PJs.
21 years old, spiky silver hair, a big smile, tight sleeveless shirt, numerous neon glowsticks dangling looped from my wrists, and long legs descending from my highlighter pink booty shorts.
“Hi there, I’m JayMay,” I state as calmly as I can. That rush of euphoria coming down from the dance, my heart pounds, and my head is jacked on the adrenaline. I want to run circles around the deck screaming and yelping!
“JayMay? Y-you’re a dragon?” She asks, her eyes tracing the outline of my face. My pulse quickens at the attention.
“Oh yeah,” I laugh, still riding a high from the combat. “I’m a dragon, I’m a girl, I’m many things!” I break the stare, take a few heavy breaths to help myself calm down, and then look back at her. “Maybe you should call the authorities, or space patrol, or whoever on these losers. Then we can sit down and get to know each other better.” I say in my best work voice, then add, a little timidly, “I mean, I don’t actually have many friends out here in the stars.”
Before she can answer, I feel a tugging below my sternum. It’s happening! I look down and see it; the etheric silver cord, visible only to me, that bridges my twin lives, fades into focus. My alarm must be going off, damn it! I thought I’d have more time.
Have you ever seen someone on the dancefloor, and without exchanging a single word, you know there’s a connection? That’s how I felt with that woman, but the cord started tugging at me, urging me away from her gravitational pull. I clench and unclench my fists a few times, screwing up the courage to say goodbye. A moment later, I’ve swept the hormones out, and I can go on.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I gotta jet! Hope to see you again!” I shout as I return to my radiant dragon form and fly off. The cute girl will have to wait; it’s time to go home.
***
From the sky, my surroundings fade, the silver cord shines brighter and pulls at me. I follow it through a dark tunnel of consciousness, then the door, black and ovoid, grows until it’s everything. I make an occult sign, and cross through…
I rush the closing ritual, and I’m not JayMay the space dragon anymore; I’m Janie Maynard. I look pretty much the same on Earth as I do in astral human form, except for two very important details. My right and left legs - they’re not actually long. In fact, they’re stumps, cut off inches above where my knees had once been.
Yeah, yeah, the irony of it all; girl who lives to dance has lost her legs! So sad! But I don’t see it that way. To me, I’m the girl who’s got it all—who has taken the lead of tragedy and alchemically transformed it into the gold of a radiant life.
Should I create and post a playlist for JayMay's music?
