A Language of Dragons

by S.F. Williamson

“Here be dragons,” I read out loud. “They say some cartographers were too afraid to chart certain territories.” Atlas comes up behind me. “Whenever they came across an unexplored area, they simply marked a warning on the maps they were drawing. It means they don’t know what’s there, but there are most definitely dragons.”

“I have no interest in political debates—” “Only because you are privileged enough not to be concerned by them.”

“Do you hear yourself? Stop trying to blame someone else and for once just listen.”

But the truth is you’re like me. You do what’s best for you.”

“I’m tired of making decisions, Atlas,” I whisper. “Tired of making the wrong ones.”

But if I can offer myself a second chance then maybe I can do things differently. I can choose to live a life where what’s important isn’t what I can achieve—grades, social class, career—but the type of person I can be.

“Remissio dolor redemptus est,” Chumana says. “Forgiveness is suffering redeemed.”

You don’t have to forgive yourself. . . . But you can offer yourself a second chance.