he was in trouble, a lot of trouble, because little boys who start fires turn into crazy grown-ups.
When he asked for his mother, they told him she was in the hospital, because of the burns he had caused by playing with matches.
Little Johnny was a bad, bad boy.
10
A particularly loud squeal from the pool brought Johnny back to the present.
Somehow the sky didn’t look as blue as before.
Well, fuck that. Here he was, a star, good looking, wealthy, and the world was at his feet. He was in a safe place and this could be his one chance to get rid of his animal.
All the kids had talked about it. If there were a price to be paid at your 300th Moon, surely the price was to give in to the animal, or to lose it completely, right?
As an adult, Johnny knew that few things were rarely so pat and simple.
But it felt right.
The dragon hadn’t pushed at the seams of his consciousness like this since childhood. And presumably since he wasn’t allowing it to come out, the creature was trying to call the shots from inside.
Not cool.
If his brothers and sisters had been right about this 300th moon, then if he kept his head down until the new moon, all his troubles would be over.
He pushed his flannel up over his forearm to study the marks.
Beneath the faded tattoo, the fiery red shapes swirled as if they were coming to the surface. Johnny gazed at them, fascinated and repulsed at the same time.
The last time they had been barely visible.
At least the dragon hadn’t locked down on his mind since that last performance.
But he could feel it. It was pushing to the surface, nosing the sea air and promising him adventure.
That magic had given him control, control he’d needed desperately.
But it was time to pay the price.
If he could resist the call, deny the change for just one more month, as he had done in all the years before, could it all be over? Would it finally lift from him, and leave him free to live the closest approximation of a normal life that Johnny Lazarus could live?
If there was a chance, then he was banking on it.
He didn’t even know how to picture it - living without the shimmering shadow of his other self.
Maybe he would finally stop filling his Johnny Walker Blue bottles with iced tea and pretending to get wasted, just to keep up the appearance of a rock star. Maybe he’d actually be able to relax once in a while and enjoy himself without worrying about what might happen if he let his guard down.
And still part of him wondered…
What would happen when it was gone?
Would he still be himself?
Would he be Johnny Lazarus?
The dragon was what made him so cool, so irresistible - he felt its charisma exuding from his pores.
Would anyone still care about him when he was just Johnny?
What happened when a man tried to amputate his soul?
Oh wow, that was good stuff.
He scrawled a few lines in the notebook.
Whatever else was going on, he’d been writing like crazy the past few days.
He looked over the song he was working on today.
It was uniquely his.
Frankly, it was probably some of the best stuff he’d ever written.
But it was… a bit of a departure.
Usually his songs were really self-affirming. “Upbeat, ass-kicking, instant rock anthems” Rolling Stone had called Somnambulance’s music style.
Of course Rolling Stone had also put the band on their list of the Top 10 “Gym Dandies”. And Johnny figured they were right, his previous creations were probably on half the workout mixes in the country. He definitely knew how to get people fired up.
But this new stuff was different, more introspective.
The lyrics were less straightforward, but the themes were clear: love, loss, regret.
As always, he faithfully wrote what was in his heart, but this time he wasn’t sure if the band would get behind it.
He could always do a solo album. But his fans would probably hate it.
Well, fuck ‘em.
It wasn’t his job to make them like it. It was his job to pull the music and lyrics out of his
When he asked for his mother, they told him she was in the hospital, because of the burns he had caused by playing with matches.
Little Johnny was a bad, bad boy.
10
A particularly loud squeal from the pool brought Johnny back to the present.
Somehow the sky didn’t look as blue as before.
Well, fuck that. Here he was, a star, good looking, wealthy, and the world was at his feet. He was in a safe place and this could be his one chance to get rid of his animal.
All the kids had talked about it. If there were a price to be paid at your 300th Moon, surely the price was to give in to the animal, or to lose it completely, right?
As an adult, Johnny knew that few things were rarely so pat and simple.
But it felt right.
The dragon hadn’t pushed at the seams of his consciousness like this since childhood. And presumably since he wasn’t allowing it to come out, the creature was trying to call the shots from inside.
Not cool.
If his brothers and sisters had been right about this 300th moon, then if he kept his head down until the new moon, all his troubles would be over.
He pushed his flannel up over his forearm to study the marks.
Beneath the faded tattoo, the fiery red shapes swirled as if they were coming to the surface. Johnny gazed at them, fascinated and repulsed at the same time.
The last time they had been barely visible.
At least the dragon hadn’t locked down on his mind since that last performance.
But he could feel it. It was pushing to the surface, nosing the sea air and promising him adventure.
That magic had given him control, control he’d needed desperately.
But it was time to pay the price.
If he could resist the call, deny the change for just one more month, as he had done in all the years before, could it all be over? Would it finally lift from him, and leave him free to live the closest approximation of a normal life that Johnny Lazarus could live?
If there was a chance, then he was banking on it.
He didn’t even know how to picture it - living without the shimmering shadow of his other self.
Maybe he would finally stop filling his Johnny Walker Blue bottles with iced tea and pretending to get wasted, just to keep up the appearance of a rock star. Maybe he’d actually be able to relax once in a while and enjoy himself without worrying about what might happen if he let his guard down.
And still part of him wondered…
What would happen when it was gone?
Would he still be himself?
Would he be Johnny Lazarus?
The dragon was what made him so cool, so irresistible - he felt its charisma exuding from his pores.
Would anyone still care about him when he was just Johnny?
What happened when a man tried to amputate his soul?
Oh wow, that was good stuff.
He scrawled a few lines in the notebook.
Whatever else was going on, he’d been writing like crazy the past few days.
He looked over the song he was working on today.
It was uniquely his.
Frankly, it was probably some of the best stuff he’d ever written.
But it was… a bit of a departure.
Usually his songs were really self-affirming. “Upbeat, ass-kicking, instant rock anthems” Rolling Stone had called Somnambulance’s music style.
Of course Rolling Stone had also put the band on their list of the Top 10 “Gym Dandies”. And Johnny figured they were right, his previous creations were probably on half the workout mixes in the country. He definitely knew how to get people fired up.
But this new stuff was different, more introspective.
The lyrics were less straightforward, but the themes were clear: love, loss, regret.
As always, he faithfully wrote what was in his heart, but this time he wasn’t sure if the band would get behind it.
He could always do a solo album. But his fans would probably hate it.
Well, fuck ‘em.
It wasn’t his job to make them like it. It was his job to pull the music and lyrics out of his