The blue dragon.

Ah, primary school. The thing that leaves such a big influence on the rest of your life. I remember a primary school story that shaped the way I saw things a lot, it all started when me and my friends thought we saw a snake in a hedge off school bounds, our school was rather small so the story of the encounter spread rapidly. Except it didn’t stop at just a snake, over time an entire culture evolved from this story, I never fully understood why it went so far, I suppose it’s due to the fact that the school was very controlling and didn’t support creativity so we were all desperate for something exciting, and what’s more exciting than our own imaginary word?

Now, like I said, it didn’t stop at a snake, in fact, it became a dragon! A blue one that would supposedly appear one day and set us free from the controlling society that I lived in. But it never came and soon the story faded away, but then, a few days after the Easter holidays, there was a storm. It blew down a thick hedge behind a wire fence that signified the end of school bounds, revealing an old crumbling house. And this is where ‘the curse’ came from.

Now we knew why the dragon never came, because a witch had put him under a curse that prevented him from leaving her garden. We set out plans to poison the witch and save the dragon, it was decided that ‘the twin trees’ two trees that grew side by side, produced a protection force-field that protected the willow garden in the school from the witches curse.

We created our own world, and it was great, until the teachers found out, dinner-lady patrols were doubled, the willow garden was banned and an assembly was arranged to stop anymore discussion of the blue dragon, the witch, or the house. A grey cloud appeared over the school that day, and it never left, I used to go and sit under ‘the twin trees’ to read my book, it was the only sunny place left. Then one day, the entrance to ‘the twin trees’ was blocked off. At the time I didn’t know what it meant so I made mental promise to see the trees on Monday.

But then Monday came around, and when I went to where the trees had been, the trees were dead. They were all rotted and all the leaves had fallen off, the teachers pulled me away from the trees, telling me they might fall on me so I wasn’t aloud near them. I was little and I didn’t understand any of it, but now I look back and I realise how much I miss that place, I used to write stories in my notebooks there, because when I was near those trees, and I still don’t know why, I could always write better stories. I was much happier there than in the playground with the other students. I find it really sad that the ‘normal’ people destroyed our world, because sometimes I think that the trees would have lived if our imaginations hadn’t died…

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