Inez Tran | 15
Some tell their children about the lottery, and still most don’t, as though ignorance were harmless. But children are curious by nature. They will want to know what the lottery means, whether it is a fun game to play. Tucked into their beds at night, they dream of winning.
Someone is approaching, and for once it isn’t Algernon. It’s a girl in a lacy white gown, a circle of rosebuds on her fair head.
My name is Sabra, she says. I am fifteen years old.
She walks right up to me and folds her arms.
Dragon, I am the king’s daughter. I was not supposed to be in the lottery, but my name was called, and so I came. A week ago I didn’t know anything. I only wondered, ever so innocently, why we never had mutton for dinner anymore. I wondered what had happened to one of the scullery maids, the stable master’s boy, and my favorite lady-in-waiting. But most of the time I didn’t think about it at all. All my life, I was shielded from the world beyond my chamber door. Perhaps my name was fated to be drawn regardless and all the knowledge in the world would not have saved me. But knowledge is the only thing I can have now before I die, so let me inquire of you—where did you come from? Why are you here?
The townspeople never thought to ask me anything. They merely cowered, cowered behind Algernon, who was obviously no hero either. It’s been so long since I thought of how I ended up here. There was a long, tormented sleep, and my body was wracked with pain that flooded the darkness until it appeared blood red. I awoke in a daze, a sharp ache in my bones. Vultures were tearing at my flesh along the cracks between my scales. I writhed and shook them off with a cry, and a bright jet of fire cut through the air in front of me. Around me a forest lit up, and it burned with a searing heat. I flew by the light of my breath, a torch that showed how brief life is, how fleeting and how frail, as the landscape turned to smoke. Exhausted, I collapsed here, waking hungry to the bleating of sheep.
I remember even more than that now, though dimly. If I could answer her, I would