Ember and the Sleepy Dragon
A warm dragon bedtime story about helping a tired creature settle without making bedtime too exciting.
Ember found the dragon in the laundry basket.
It was curled between two towels, no bigger than a puppy, with green wings and a nose that twitched.
“Ah…” said the dragon.
Ember stepped back.
“Ah…”
The dragon sneezed.
Puff!
One tiny spark popped out and landed on a sock. The sock glowed for one second, then went back to being a sock.
“Bless you,” Ember whispered.
The dragon opened one golden eye. “I cannot sleep. Every time I almost do, I sneeze.”
Ember knew what it felt like when the body would not settle.
“Maybe your nest is too tickly,” she said.
The dragon looked at the towels. “Towels are tickly.”
Ember made a new nest from her softest blanket. The dragon climbed in.
“Ah…”
Puff!
This spark landed on Ember’s pajama sleeve and made a tiny warm star.
“Still sneezing,” said the dragon sadly.
Ember thought. “Maybe you need steam.”
She filled a mug with warm water and set it nearby. The dragon breathed the steam.
“Better,” he said. “But not sleepy.”
Ember fetched her bedtime book. “When I am not sleepy, stories help.”
She read about a hill, a moon, and a sheep who counted clouds. The dragon listened. His wings drooped. His tail stopped twitching.
Halfway through the page, the dragon sat up again.
“What if I sneeze in my sleep?” he asked. “What if a spark jumps out and wakes everyone?”
Ember thought this was a fair worry for a dragon. She looked around the room and found her metal pencil tin. She emptied the crayons onto the rug and set the tin beside the blanket nest.
“If one spark comes out,” she said, “it can land in here. The tin can be the spark tray.”
The dragon tapped it with one claw. Clink.
“Good tray,” he said.
Ember also moved the sock basket farther away and placed the mug where the steam could drift, but not spill. Each small fix made the room feel a little more ready.
“Ah…” he murmured.
Ember paused.
The dragon’s nose wiggled.
Then instead of a sneeze, he gave a tiny sigh.
No spark came out.
“Again,” he whispered.
Ember read the softest page again. The dragon curled smaller and smaller until he looked like a green comma.
By the time Mom came to check on Ember, the dragon was asleep in the blanket nest.
“New friend?” Mom whispered.
“Sleepy one,” Ember said.
They left the mug, the book, and the blanket just where they were.
That night, Ember slept with one tiny warm star still glowing on her sleeve.
In the laundry basket, the socks rested safely.
And in the blanket nest, the little dragon dreamed of clouds that did not tickle.
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