Dragons Don’t Cry
Ossmo, a smaller dragon, carefully carried his instrument along the backstage walkways of the performance amphitheater. Narrow boardwalks connected with rope just wide enough for him to walk through creaked and swayed as he made his way closer to the front of the stage. The vibrations of the current musical performance vibrated through the walls and curtains. A cheering crowd created a beating vibration fueling the current performer. Ossmo would soon go on stage to perform his musical number, and he wanted to make sure he was completely prepared. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt nervous. But he didn’t want his nerves to affect his performance.
“Deep breath, calm the body.” He thought to himself.
From his location, he could feel the vocal energy and excitement of the crowd as they sang along with the musical act on stage. It felt like a wind of energy flowing up onto the stage, pouring out through the exits and walkways backstage. Leaning to the side of one curtain, Ossmo looked over the massive crowd. He knew there would be sizeable crowds at the festival, but he had never seen a crowd of this size from the perspective of the stage. It looked much larger than he ever imagined it would. A sea of arms and wings, humans and dragons all chanting, shouting out random calls, creating a singular vocal aura.
The lively crowd looked like a massive undulating beast ready to consume the offerings on stage if the creative sacrifice was not sufficient to feed the beast. If pleased, the beast would grant wishes to the performer, fueling the dreams of any hopeful musician. If dissatisfied by the offering, it would devour the sacrifice on stage, exploiting the insecurities of the performer to nourish its wild appetite. Like any wild beast, the crowd could be tamed, although not without risk of a career-ending performance.
Ossmo considered his fate. What would the crowd decide for him? He loves his music; it moves him, inspires, energizes, and excites him whenever he plays. Would the crowd feel the same way? Music is where he finds peace. It’s his life. And he is about to present his life in front of a crowd for their judgment, their acceptance or rejection. “Whatever they decide,” Ossmo told himself, “I must remain true to the choices I made in the past.” Even if the crowd rejects him, he refused to let it consume him. The music in his soul would surface and slay the beast one day, whether it be today or another. No matter what, Ossmo told himself, he would not give up like he nearly did in his younger years.
Ossmo chuckled as the phrase entered his mind, “Dragons don’t cry”. A very clear and frustrating memory that held permanent residence in his mind. Ever since he was a young dragon, he struggled with conformity. He never knew how to explain this constant urge of expression he felt inside. A movement, a force, an energy that needed to escape. He thought everyone felt that way, so he never understood why his actions incited such negative attention from others. In his mind, he could see the sounds objects made. His mind conjuring colors, shapes, and movements for the sounds of life. His curiosity led him to see what everything sounded like. Tapping with his tail, drumming porcelain pots, clanging metals and whacking on wicker. He wanted to see and feel what life sounded like. His fidgeting existence annoyed the others. The other dragons in his nursery group always teased him about his actions, trying to stop him, or at least hurt him enough that he would be too afraid to chase the noises he craved so much. But those rhythms and patterns became a solace from the teasing, the only time he felt at peace, at rest from the constant movement inside his soul.
Ossmo thought about one night in particular when he felt completely rejected by his peers, and he finally broke down into tears. Rather than finding empathy and comfort from the adults raising him, they got scolded him. “Dragons don’t cry,” they told him. They lectured him on the honor of dragon culture and the responsibility of each dragon to uphold such dignity and honor. Each dragon is a pillar hoisting the greater good of all dragonkind. Ossmo’s humorous reflection shifted to a serious tone. As a wiser dragon, he could see the humor in pain, but he also recognized the dangers of such a cultural belief, and how it still affects his life today.
His mind paused a moment, then reminded himself why he’s performing. “I make music for me, not anyone else. Not for others, and not for dragon-kind”. A thought he never shared with others to avoid the accusation of selfishness. He learned early on, if he truly wanted to create great music, he had to do it because he loved it, because it energized his Ife. His experience taught him if he created music for others, especially his own kind, rejection would be immanent. He never felt the peace trying to please others. He learned he could not define himself through the validation of others.
Ossmo looked out at the crowd again. It wasn’t his time yet, but it would be soon. He looked over his instrument, checking the tuning and settings for a fourth time, just to make sure he was ready to play. He smiled, reflecting on the first instrument he ever owned. Where it all started.
Despite many nursery caregivers, he remembers one nursery mother that encouraged him. The first one to do so. Most adults tried to stop his constant drive for finding rhythm in everyday objects. She embraced it. She introduced him to musical instruments. Although designed for humans, his nursery mother modified the instrument so his claws wouldn’t destroy it. However, he played it enough that the wear and tear eventually took its toll. Though it never sounded as elegant as the humans’ musical instruments, he found ways to make music out of it.
Ossmo smiled. He doesn’t remember the concept of notes, musical measures, or the science of music at that age. He only remembers how it felt, how he envisioned what the music looked like in his mind. Ossmo reflected a moment on the wonder that he could even create music without training.
He thought a moment of his nursery mother, curious if she was still out there somewhere, and if she would remember him. She was one of the few that encouraged his abilities, finding them unique and hopeful. Most others thought Ossmo did not fit the role of a proper dragon. Some even referred to him as an embarrassment to their kind. Yet Ossmo knew he was a dragon, and he knew he loved music. An internal conflict that brewed a contentious childhood.
Ossmo’s nursery mother tried her best to connect him with other dragon families that fostered the arts. Even amongst other artists, his music consistently elicited ill favor. At first, the other dragons acted accepting of his desire to create music. Although, inevitably, they all tried to convince him of other careers or trades. Dragons don’t play music. Dragons sing. They have a rich history providing fascinating vocals to music. Most dragon music comprised a combination of percussions and vocals, but never the intricate mixture of musical instruments. Life as a musician never fit dragon culture, as they had larger paw-like fingers and a general lack of dexterity. The path to success as a musician was wrought with numerous obstacles that most dragons could not overcome. Writing and performing music was a human’s world. It looked bad on dragon kind to be mediocre, especially if compared to a human’s ability.
Ossmo listens a moment to the band performing on stage, and the reaction of the crowd. He drew his finger along one of the wire strings of his instrument. In his younger years, he knew he could have tried better to fit in with the other dragons, but he never understood why he should even try. He wanted to play music. He felt a sense of peace when he played music and felt he shouldn’t have to change to fit the definitions of a dragon that others expected of him. Ossmo believed that once the other dragons finally see his talent, and what he is capable of, they would accept him and praise him.
Then Ossmo thought to himself. “Nobody sees a world they refuse to look at”. A concept he learned too late in life.
Ossmo switched dragon families often, trying to find the perfect fit for his abilities. A mentor that could help him become the best dragon he could be. But the frustration and anxiety of feeling like an outcast created a vacillating pattern of behavior. Effort to fit in, feeling rejected, then lashing out, only pushing him further from acceptance. He knew his lashing out came from the hope of being moved to a family with a chance of finding someone who truly cared about his talents and abilities. It never happened.
Ossmo thought for a moment about the darker periods of his early life. During those times, he thought he should give up on music because dragon kind would never accept him. He reflected on the times that his emotional lashing out got him in trouble. First within the school system, then his rebellious antics eventually bled over into issues with civil authorities.
Ossmo gently strummed a string on his instrument, letting out a low, dull vibration that he felt. He thought about those tumultuous younger years. The only peace he felt came from his music. When he had nobody else, he turned to his music. Music he kept to himself, music he never shared with others.
He eventually found a group of friends that would listen to his music, at least the music he played for them. They believed in him. They loved his music. His life became an oscillating journey, flying high from the rush of performing his music to the few who loved listening to it, with the lows of rejection from his own culture, then lashing out in anger. Ossmo could feel the anger accumulating over the years, but did not know how to handle it, so he kept burying it deep inside.
Despite the challenges, Ossmo never gave up. He couldn’t calm the movement in his mind, driven to find any way of releasing it. Dragon culture would never entertain the notion of a musical dragon, nor support such a risk of failure. An unspoken disgrace to their race. Despite his talent and abilities, he never could win a competition in the arts or receive a scholarship. His mind recalled his first official performance in front of a crowd that did not include his group of friends.
Ossmo chuckled at the memories of playing music in front of a cluster of dragons in an assisted care home. He remembers thinking how close to death they looked, but at least they were an audience. He could never tell if they understood what was going on, never providing the validation from his own kind. Although it also meant they weren’t judgmental. Ossmo felt he could play and perform his music as he wanted. Maybe one would clap after his performance. Ossmo never knew if they clapped for him, or their reaction stemmed from a reflex condition in their minds. Whether or not they understood his performances, he felt accepted. It became one of the few consistent times in his life he felt he could express himself in his music without judgement. These were only moments of peace in an otherwise raging cauldron of emotions in his mind.
When not playing music, his anger took control. Ossmo reflected on the times he lashed out, not knowing how to manage the rejection he constantly felt. His self-destructive path continued to spiral, causing problems wherever he went. So starved for acceptance and validation, he felt that negative attention at least provided some form of attention.
Ossmo smiled. He thought about the prank that went way too far, causing enormous amounts of damage to the school he attended. His happiness didn’t come from the effects of the prank. He still feels bad for what he did, but he thought of the one man, the human that changed the course of his entire life.
Humans don’t train dragons, at least not in the world of dragon-kind. Dragons train dragons. That’s just how his society works. Ossmo would have never considered a human mentor. Already an outsider to what most dragons consider normal, having a human mentor would surely complete the classification of an outcast amongst his own kind. This time, his prank caused not only considerable damage to the school property, but excessive damage to the music department in the school he attended. As much as he hated himself for damaging several instruments that meant so much to him, he figured he committed his last act, the final ‘mess up’ that will forever exclude him from a life in music. They would ban him and he would never touch an instrument again. Ossmo thought about how much he hated himself for his actions. He tried convincing himself that he could finally find acceptance in knowing he’ll never be a musician. He might as well know for a certainty that he could never be involved with music, rather than hold on to a weak flickering flame of hope that would never ignite. At least his mind knew what to expect in a world of darkness. He could finally stop trying to be something he felt the world didn’t want him to be.
The musical professor took part in the disciplinary council, determining his punishment. Ossmo thought about the thick pride of his younger dragon mind. He prepared to gladly and boastfully accept whatever punishment they handed down. They couldn’t hurt him. His emotional walls were so thick and so high, he couldn’t wait to make fun of their punishment. He wasn’t about to let a human professor push him around.
Then that man, that human, handed down the one punishment Ossmo never expected. Among other things, a requirement to perform in the school’s musical performance. As a solo artist.
Ossmo remembered the rage that took over his mind and how angry he felt at the gall of the human to hand down a punishment that made no sense. Looking back at the moment, Ossmo knew what the professor hoped to accomplish with the punishment, yet at the time Ossmo’s anger drove his reaction.
Ossmo reflected on when he approached the human professor in a profanity laced speech about how unfair his punishment was and how they can’t force him to perform anything. No other dragon would take him seriously if he performed in a primarily human musical show. At one point he called the professor “a manipulative white worm of a human”. He remembers those words specifically, because they became the words he regretted the most. As a young, headstrong dragon fueled by anger, he wanted the professor to kick him out of the program.
But the professor didn’t.
The professor calmly listened to Ossmo, and when Ossmo had nothing left to say, the professor replied, “Don’t tell me. Tell them. Tell it to the world. Get up there on that stage and tell the world how angry you are, how unfair it is, how you feel about your life. That’s what it’s for.”
Ossmo never forgot those words. They hit his emotions like a punch to the gut. The headstrong, smart-ass personality of Ossmo stood silent. Fuming in his own anger. He stared at the professor, feigning anger to cover the slowly creeping emotion in his mind just long enough to escape his professor’s presence. Those words pierced his mind that night. The night he has never talked about, nor told anyone about. He broke down and cried for the second time in his life. “Dragons don’t cry.” But he couldn’t stop himself. He spent his whole life keeping all his emotions bottled up inside, when a few simple words from a patient teacher broke the emotional dam, letting the emotion flow freely. At first, the mental effect on his physical body sent him crashing into his sleeping furs and pillows. His mind re-hashing all the things he hated, all the times that fueled the anger, all the times he felt hurt. Those same words eventually turned to motivation and a longing for inner peace. He began to write music.
The cheering noise of the crowds snapped him out of his reflection and back to the present moment. He looked over the crowd again. Ossmo plucked several strings of his instrument. His mind returned to his thoughts on that fateful music professor. He could never explain what motivated that teacher to have such mercy on him. He figured the professor could see what nobody else could. That teacher could see the music Ossmo had locked up in his dragon mind. He helped Ossmo find an instrument that suited him best. He suggested ways to make the instrument more suitable for a dragon musician.
Ossmo reflected on his punishment concert performance. It marked the first time he ever tried to express his genuine emotions in his music to the public. A once bold and brash, troublesome dragon now stood, afraid to face the crowd. Expressing emotion through music presented a heavy risk for Ossmo. It left him vulnerable, open to more hurt and pain that he couldn’t control. His professor also taught him to close his eyes, breathe slowly and deeply to focus the mind, and calm the body and “feel” the music.
Ossmo closed his eyes and plucked a string. His mind conjured the shape and color of the note as he thought about the teachings of his music professor. Performing in front of the school scared him beyond anything he ever experienced before. A primarily youthful crowd versus the easy to please old dragons at the assisted care home. But that one performance, that challenge, or legal obligation, to perform in that concert became the spark that changed Ossmo’s life forever.
Glancing again over the massive crowd of the music festival, Ossmo looked for his old schoolteacher. Ossmo knew his teacher was there. Despite the slim probability, Ossmo hoped seeing him there would reassure him. The sea of faces, the dancing and bobbing up and down of heads and arms, made it nearly impossible to identify anyone specific.
Ossmo turned back to his instrument, checking it over a fifth time. He thought about the few more years of school with that teacher. Though a lot of dragons acted as expected, putting him on the outside of most dragon culture, he found new friends. He found acceptance, and he learned to find positivity even though his life looked different from what he expected. As long as he could create music. He needed the music in his life to feel a sense of calm and peace, and let the ‘movement’ in his mind and body escape.
He made a lot of human friends. He stopped getting into so much trouble with the school and local authorities. His teacher helped him re-located to a blended family of humans and dragons. A rare occurrence in Hallador, although one that Ossmo needed. It allowed his personality to blossom.
Ossmo tried to calm his nerves by thinking of all the other performances that turned out just fine. It didn’t help. Any performance during his primary schooling years did not compare to the music festivals held in Hallador. It’s one thing to perform in front of a crowd of 100, but a totally different experience performing in front of 10,000.
Then he heard the current performance finish their set. The crowd cheered a riotous cheer, as the band walked off stage. A couple of members of the band nodded to Ossmo as they passed by, most likely because they didn’t understand why he stood there. Possibly a stage hand, or fan of theirs, not realizing that Ossmo was the next act on the stage. Ossmo took several deep breaths. The announcer began talking, introducing Ossmo to the stage. He could only listen for the keywords for him to walk out. The time came. His heart raced. He tried to take deep breaths to focus. His fingers and limbs trembled. Even worse, the crowd grew silent. The festival goers were not accustomed to a performance from a singular dragon musician. There were plenty of singing dragons, and some dragons contributed to music ensembles, yet there had never been an act like Ossmo on stage before. The crowd didn’t know what to expect.
A cheering yell called out Ossmo’s name, breaking the silence. One of his friends attempting to hype up the crowd. Ossmo feigned a smile to look confident, nodding a ‘thank you’. Ossmo took several more deep breaths, calming his muscles to let the instinct take over. He got in position, set up his instrument, checked his settings for a sixth time. Then his body rested into place, emotionally fusing with his instrument.
Deep Breathe.
In, then out.
In.
Then out.
In
Out.
Ossmo closed his eyes, mentally drowning out the ambient noise of the crowd looking only for the shape of his music. He began playing.
It started out slow. A beat. Then a rhythm. He held his instrument with his wings, adjusted the levers as needed, playing with his fingers. Keeping time with his tail. He slowly let the music and melody build more and more. Ossmo could tell the crowd reacted, but his mind pushed those visuals out, only focusing on his music. The music had to tell the story. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by the audience. Ossmo again focused on the shape of his music.
His mind could see the notes as they played, and the beat and rhythm wove a pattern in his mind. Then he introduced a new sound. Slowly weaving it in and around the existing melody. He could feel the energy of his music building. It swirled around in his mind like a theatrical, flowering, colorful, fire-like spectacle. Keep building, keep building, he thought. His music continued to build. His body moved and swayed with the music, dancing with the visuals his mind conjured. He could feel the energy of the piece take over.
The musical energy surged, and his body reacted. Ossmo leapt to his feet, using his musical instrument to burst forth with an even new sound that wove a beautifully intricate tapestry of musical notes. Ossmo couldn’t hear the crowd. He kept his eyes closed, focusing on how the music looked in his mind. That’s all that mattered. It didn't matter if the audience loved it or not. The music was his creation, his emotions, and he only cared about sharing what he held inside.
Ossmo’s body moved with the music. His wing arms holding his instrument as he rocked back and forth with the flow of the music. His tail slithered and swayed as his full body embraced the flow of the musical number, building, increasing in energy until the final crescendo of the musical finale burst through his mind and body, opening his arms and wings wide, his head stretching up to the stars.
Ossmo lowered his head, exhaling a deep breath. He began to open his eyes. As the light slipped through his slowly lifting eyelids, they only captured the silence of a wide-eyed crowd. His mind surged in doubt. Did they hate the performance? Did they not like the music? Did it not resonate with them? His eyelids slowly lifted completely as Ossmo took in the scene of the entire crowd.
It was only a moment, a blink of an eye.
The moment of silence came from the collective gasp of air as the crowd burst into a tsunami of vocal celebration for Ossmo’s performance. The excitement and praise of the crowd crashed into the stage, drawing the attention of all festival goers far outside the amphitheater.
Ossmo beamed with excitement. His music resonated with the crowd. What more could he ask for? He took a bow. Despite his best-efforts to keep calm and collected, his eyes welled up, and a few tears escaped past his defense, streaming down the side of his face.
“Dragons don’t cry.” The words echoed in his mind. Ossmo continued to bow to the cheering crowd. “Maybe so,” he thought. “But Ossmo does. It’s not the first time, nor do I believe it will be the last. But it will be worth it.”