He sat in the old rocking chair he had crafted many years ago, a cherished reminder of a gift he had given his wife on their sixty-fifth anniversary. The grandkids were coming for a visit today, and he wanted to be prepared for them. He gathered some old newspapers from the wood box next to the fireplace, used as starter paper, but today, they would become a magical flying dragon. He had learned this ancient art from an elderly Chinese man he had befriended while stationed in China a lifetime ago.
The man had taught him how to lay out the pieces of paper and fold them in ways that connected each piece, creating a labor of love. Every new piece of paper acted as the skin of the mighty dragon. There were at least ten strings attached to the soon-to-be flying creature, each one allowing for controlled movement, making it appear as though the beast was flying, dive-bombing, turning left or right, and even swooping down as if to try and eat the one holding the strings.
The final task was to paint the dragon in vibrant colors, with each dragon maker selecting colors and designs that would be consistent across all their creations.
With all the supplies ready, he waited to hear the car horn and the laughter of his grandkids as they arrived to make their very own flying dragons. After hugs and kisses all around, they went to work. He instructed them on how to fold each piece exactly as he had shown them, emphasizing that there could be no mistakes or they would have to start over until it was perfect. Time flew by, and the dragons began to take shape, much to the delight of the young ones, who felt a sense of accomplishment. Tying the strings in the proper order proved challenging, but they persevered. Then came the moment for painting. One grandkid chose bright yellow and orange with red eyes, another opted for purple and white with black eyes, while the youngest decided on all red.
They carefully set up their dragons in the vast open fields as instructed, running like the wind until they caught a current, where the real fun began. They started pulling on various strings as the dragons reacted and came to life. Up and down, side by side, it became a battle in the sky, with each flyer determined to win. Suddenly, he noticed the little red dragon dive-bombing straight into the path of the larger ones in a heated battle. The flyer pulled a string, and the mighty jaws of the red dragon opened, attacking the others, devouring them, and claiming victory!
The older man smiled on the way home, listening to the kids’ excited voices asking when they could come back to make more dragons. He answered, "As soon as I collect more newspapers."
Mike 2025
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