The anticipation made my heart race as I walked down the dark hallway. My flashlight, wrapped in its pink unicorn cover, cast a soft, narrow beam, creating dancing shadows on the walls. Feeling like a ninja, I moved silently towards my target. My tiny feet barely made a sound on the cool wooden floor. The mission was crucial, and every step had to be perfect. The Dragon, a creature I had grown to respect, love, and fear, was in a deep slumber somewhere upstairs, and my job was to ensure she stayed that way.
The stairs loomed ahead—my first challenge. They creaked with every step; I was prepared, I hoped. I had spent countless nights perfecting my technique. My feet hovered about each step, placing them with the utmost care. Each groan from the old wood was like a thunderclap in the silence. I was almost halfway up when I heard the Dragon stir slightly. My heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the fear of waking her, but I kept moving: each step a calculated risk, each creak a potential disaster.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I paused and peeked around the corner. The hallway was bathed in an eerie light from the moon sneaking in through the windows, and every noise seemed amplified. I hurried past the photos and trinkets that lined the walls, aware that each item could potentially be a landmine of noise. The key to the kitchen closet was hidden in an old-fashioned chest in the dragon’s nest, and I needed it to unlock the next part of my mission.
The door to the nest was just ahead. Getting to the chest would be tricky. I approached the door and eased it open; it was heavy, like a big wooden gate protecting its castle, it creaked. I stopped and held my breath, listening. The Dragon shifted slightly but did not wake. I was in.
The Dragon’s Nest is the world’s scariest (and messiest) room. Before me was a labyrinth of potential dangers—obstacles that not even the dragon herself dared to meet. The room was littered with relics from her past conquests, each posing a possible threat. I stood there with my heart pounding, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
The floor was cluttered with a mountain of clothes. Some were clean, while others were rumpled from their journey through the day. Shirts and pants were strewn about, creating a fabric maze that threatened to trip me. I carefully made my way through the pile of clothes. My flashlight beam swept over the mess, illuminating socks tangled with skirts and blouses. I had to tread carefully, keeping an eye out for any potential pitfalls.
An old dresser stood against the far wall. The chest’s surface was cluttered with the dragons’ small treasures – rings, headphones, glasses, and a phone. I could see the drawer handle peeking out from behind the pile of clutter. My hands were shaky as I opened the drawer, trying not to disturb anything else. Standing on tiptoe, I could barely see the key inside the drawer, lying on top of some old books. I grasped the key; its brass was cool and heavy in my hand. Success was within reach, but I had to be quick.
Just as I was about to close the drawer, I heard a faint noise from the hallway. My pulse quickened. Oh no, is the baby dragon awake? Had the dragon heard something? I looked around the room, my eyes darting to the cluttered floor. A hairbrush lay precariously close to my path, and I could see the disaster in my mind: tripping over it, causing a cascade of noise. With the key clutched tightly, I avoided the pile of clothes and the dangerous hairbrush. As I reached the door, my foot got caught on the end of a T-shirt, sending it sliding across the floor with a loud rustle. My heart sank as the dragon’s snoring abruptly stopped, replaced by a low, restless murmur. I knew I had to move fast. I sprinted down the hallway, clutching the key tightly. Upon entering the kitchen, I moved cautiously. The closet loomed in the corner; my hands trembled as I fumbled with the key, trying to unlock the door. The lock clicked open with a satisfying sound. As I pushed the door open, two big yellow eyes appeared immediately in the dark. The creature’s eyes gleamed with menacing light, watching me from the shadows. I had to remain still and not make sudden moves that might alarm it.
The creature emitted a low, rumbling meow, a warning of its displeasure. It was hungry. I held my breath and slowly inched toward the closet’s interior. Amidst forgotten kitchen gadgets, cat food, and old plates, I spotted the hidden treasure: the bag of candy. My hands shook as I reached for the candy; the creature’s yellow eyes still tracked my every movement, their gaze intense. I grabbed the bag, my heart racing with excitement. Success! With the candy safely in hand, I knew I had to leave quickly. Just as I was about to exit the kitchen, disaster struck. I accidentally knocked over a glass jar from the kitchen counter. The glass jar tumbled and shattered loudly on the floor. The creature jumped and ran away, the noise echoing through the house. My heart sank as I stood frozen, tightly clutching the candy bag against my chest. The kitchen door swung open, and there she stood – the dragon, my mother.
