SORCEROUS SIGNALS
Written by Rebecca Nazar / Artwork by Holly Eddy
Fig























“Nope, no such thing. Nope, nope, nope,” Sam said, with lots of emphasis on the P’s in the nopes. He
was, by nature, a cynic. Plus, he was in shock. “No such thing.”

“Well, cousin, I beg to differ since you’re standing on top of a dragon as we speak,” Ben replied, more
bemused than shocked. He was, by nature, a dreamer.

“Well, you do suffer from an overactive imagination, always have.” Sam jumped up and down on the
dragon’s spongy stomach. “Dragons are fictitious creatures, right?”

In awe, Ben took three tentative steps toward the sleeping creature to study its features before he
meekly lied, “Right, fictitious,” knowing this particular one was a real true-blue specimen.

Indeed it was a dragon, an exceptional one, having exceptional parts such as a brow entrusted with large
sapphires, blue reptilian skin covered with gleaming silver body armor and wings so luminous they rivaled
the sheen of the purest pearl. It pounced on them moments ago, lithe muscles twitching, tail thrashing,
incinerating Sam and Ben’s campsite with flame blasts shot from its maw; yet, curiously, it fainted when
Ben silently wished it would take a very sound nap.

“Oh stop mooning over it, will ya, you softie? We’re dreaming. Don’t dupe yourself into thinking it’s real.
You’ll only wake up disappointed,” Sam said.

Ben stuck his pinky fingers into each of his ears in a vain attempt to scratch an itch deep within his head
he darn well knew he’d never reach, but what other choice did he have, it itched. Retracting his probing
fingers, he inspected the blood that smeared their tips, then thrust them at his disbelieving cousin. “See,
Sam, gruesome evidence of what really transpired here because of that there real dragon. The tip of its
tail went in one and out the other of my ears. Funny, but I don’t feel too bad, but my brain must now
have a tunnel you could thread a fishing lure through, I bet.”

Sam gasped in horror, but hoped they’d test the theory because it would be fun. “That’s rough, Ben, my
apologies.” He removed his cap, scratched his head and tried to recall if he’d packed a first-aid kit. “I’ll
grab us some beer.”

“A beer would be good right about now,” Ben said. “Hey, does this dragon seem familiar to you at all?”

“Nope, you know I don’t go in for flights of fancy, nope,” Sam answered, again with popping Ps. Then it
dawned on him they were experiencing reality, for he was neither naked nor flying. Grumbling, he
gingerly made his way across the smoldering ground to an upended cooler. Picking through charred
remains of what had promised to be a heavenly junk-food feast after a long day of fishing, he found a
dented but still serviceable beer. “Things are looking up. In coming, cousin.” He tossed the can nice and
easy, so not to agitate the skunky-tasting contents further.  

Even though his arms where outstretched to make the catch, the beer bonked Ben in the head. It
tumbled, coming to rest under the dragon’s front-left claw.

Oh no, his physical reflexes ain’t working so good, Sam thought.

“What’s that you thinking, cousin? My reflexes are fine for someone whose brain got lanced.”

Sam gapped and thought, He read my mind?

“And light reading it is too,” Ben quipped. “Now I know you’ve screwed the wives of all your friends.
You’ve embezzled thousands from your employer and the main reason you came on this fishing trip with
me was to discover my secret spot.”

Sam let out a long, slow sob as he sunk to the ground under the weight of these revelations and his
guilt. This isn’t a nightmare?

“Not for me. I’ve got cool mind-reading powers, obviously.” Ben ambled toward the dragon, retrieving
the can, which he snapped opened with a flourish. Beer showered them both. “All I know is I got a nine
to five code-enforcement job I’m ill suited for. Day in, day out it’s stressful, giving me too many
headaches. So what’s wrong with a bit of fun and being a kid again? Wakey, wakey, you beautiful
creature, let’s play.” The dregs from the can drizzled over the dragon’s snout.

The dragon snorted. Its legs twitched.

“What are you doing? Don’t wake it up.” Sam scrambled behind a charred stump.

“Yes, I recognize her now. Do you know who this is?” Ben yelled, astonished. “My first love.”

Sam whimpered, crouched lower.

Ben draped his body over the dragon’s neck and gave it a big hug. “It’s Fig, a figment of my imagination
from my childhood, remember? Come here and give her a cuddle too.”

“Hell no! I know how painful your childhood was.” Sam’s feeble mind sorted through memories stowed
twenty-five years ago and recalled three things about Fig. First, as a kid he’d not liked her because she
was a stupid girl and he didn’t play with girls ever, especially pretend ones. Two, she didn’t have laser
beam technology. Three, she was a stupid girl. Truth was he thought his overly sensitive and dragon-
besotted cousin was a big loser, preferring to hang with the cool crowd instead. Years later, he still felt
the same way for the most part.

“Well, at least come say hi to her,” Ben said. “Somehow I got what I imagined most as a kid. Maybe
there’s some make-believe lotto that I won and Fig and reading-mind powers are my prizes,” Ben said.

“Her bruising your brain is a prize?” Sam could see a droplet of blood on Ben’s right earlobe. “Let’s leave,
get you to a hospital.”

Ben scratched his head. “Point taken, cousin, but I ain’t leaving. I’d rather die close to my favorite fishing
hole with her by my side.” He approached Sam, peered over the charred stump. “You won’t hug my
once-imaginary-now-all-too-real-childhood dragon before I die of a brain hemorrhage? You’re not that
big of a jerk.”

“Fair enough,” Sam said, struggling to get up. He’d known for years karma would eventually bite him in
the ass—like many of his friends’ wives had—for his devious ways, but this seemed a tad extreme: death
by dragon. Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, he shuffled toward Fig. He had to admit
she was magnificent. Never had he fantasized anything so intricate. Imagination-wise, he was a dolt at
worst, a clod at best. Even his pornographic thoughts were clichéd. Yet Ben’s imagination was so strong
it manifested her in the flesh. Maybe his cousin was a most worthy make-believe lotto winner. Did it
matter how Fig got here? She was here.

Fig’s eyes rolled opened. Her azure irises, which encircled glossy obsidian pupils, flashed back and forth,
studying Ben and Sam. She thumped her tail like a gleeful dog upon seeing Ben. Growls she reserved for
Sam.

“Offer her a make-believe brewski, Sam.”

“Sure thing, nice and cold. She prefers them cold, right?” Sam cursed himself for not taking the mime
lessons offered at an enrichment class at the local high school. When he pantomimed opening a cold
one, it looked more like he was scrambling eggs. Feebly, he offered up a mess of something, which he
placed at Fig’s nose.

“See, Fig, this is a friend,” Ben said. A pained look crossed his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Ben stuck his fists in Fig’s ears, lowered his voice. “I’m set to D-I-E here any minute, I’m thinking. What
pains me is why she jabbed my brain? Our kinship meant so much to me as a kid, her protecting me
always, taking time to play. She got me through some real tough times when I felt so lonely.”

Purring, Fig nuzzled Ben’s right leg.

“She purrs, too, imagine that. You thought of everything.” Pangs of envy and sorrow struck Sam’s
heart. Real or imagined, he’d never experienced a bond with anyone or thing. This was an opportunity to
be and say something nice, to play make-believe and be sincere about it. He coughed and wiped his
stinging eyes before a stray tear could give him away. “Well, I’m thinking she’s like a big ol’ clumsy
Labrador Retriever so excited to see you after all these years her tail just got to whipping around. I’m
sure she didn’t mean nothing by it.” He choked up, but continued. “Me, on the other hand, I should’ve
been nicer to you when we were kids and teased you less now that we’re older.”

Fig huffed and rolled her eyes in response, but Ben patted Sam’s back. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,
cousin, only thing that ailed me throughout my whole life was being cursed as the too-nice-a-guy guy
and a dreamer in too serious a world.”

“From now on, I’m going to be a better person,” Sam wailed as he embraced them both.

“I’m reading your thoughts. You don’t intend giving up screwing your friends’ wives.”

“Baby steps, cousin, baby steps.”

Both held each other for a time, neither wanting to break the spell of tender sentiment wrought by such
fantastic circumstances. But testosterone can withstand only so much.

Sam took a few steps back, nearly tripping over Fig’s swishing tail. “Whoa, sorry, girl.”

“Hey, what’s that?” Ben dropped to his knees to inspect the tip of her tail, which was marred by a small
black lump. “That’s nothing I dreamed up for her.”

After scrounging for a burnt stick, Sam knelt beside his cousin. “Give it a poke with this.”

Ben did just that. “Cousin, I’m no doctor, but I suspect that bit of blackness is a tumor of some sort,
possibly cancerous.” He gasped. “Fig preformed surgery on me.”

“Absolutely, she did. Whatever that is, it was up to no good in your noggin, I’m betting. Maybe it caused
all those headaches.”

“I feel pretty good now.” Ben dabbed his ears. “The bleeding has stopped.” He stroked Fig’s head. “You
are something else, my lady.”

In response, with a sharp whip of her tail, Fig sent the tumor soaring into the stratosphere.

Sam stemmed his tears. “Well, that’s a happy ending. How about we clean up, see if there’s any tackle
worth salvaging and if so, let’s get to fishing,” he said, followed by an enthusiastic whoop.

“Sure thing. But I’m thinking about a happier ending.” Ben closed his eyes and silently mouthed a few
words.

Fig shrugged, sloughing her wings, their gossamer fibers unraveling, evaporating into the ether as her
form dissolved ever so slowly.

“What you up to?” Sam said. “Don’t spoil her now. You giving her laser beams?”

Ben shushed him.

Figment’s armor softened and dribbled like mercury down her back. The wind kicked up. Her reptilian
scales flaked off and wafted like thistle down around Ben. When her form was reduced to a puddle,
refracting every shade of blue imaginable, he spun at its center until column of light shot skyward. On his
last rotation, the light clicked off and he cradled a beautiful woman in his arms.

Fig smirked at Sam as if to say a stupid girl, I don’t think so.

Ben beamed. “As a dragon, she’d scare off the fish.”
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Too shy to become a circus clown or stand-up comedian, Rebecca writes
sweet, comical tales instead . . . oh, and dark ones too on occasion.

Please visit her at www.rebeccanazar.com