Henry’s Dragon

by Anay

A Summer 2025 Monthly Story Challenge Winner 

Henry was walking home from school. He had gotten another 110% on his math test—the extra 10 points came from his exceptional explanations. The principal of Challenger School wanted to inquire about Henry skipping a grade. So, Henry would be home alone for a couple of hours.

He breezed through his math assignment, hardly slowed by the extra problems, and then tackled his grammar work. Then he read his favorite book, Percy Jackson, as he waited for his parents to arrive.

Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door. He opened it and found his parents on the porch with guilty looks in their eyes.

“Son, we need to talk,” his dad said, taking off his coat as they all sat at the table.

“Sorry,” Henry’s mom said, “but the principal said that he would let you skip two grades if you go on a camping trip with friends—with no parents—and find a rare animal. And of course, we said yes.”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” Henry moaned. “Not a camping trip! I hate those! They can be so nerve-racking!”

“I know, but think of the benefits. You can skip two whole years of school, learn an instrument, and we’ll throw in a brand-new Nerf gun. Mmm-hmm!” said Dad.

“Fine,” said Henry, exasperated and outnumbered.

“We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning,” said Mom. “Dad and I will pack your bags. You get some sleep—you have a long day ahead of you.”

“Will I miss any tests?” Henry interrupted.

“No, silly! It’s the Friday of the second-to-last week of school. You finished all the tests. A+ in everything! We also picked up your certificates—hang them up in your room.”

The following day, he had to wake up at 12:00 a.m. He only got six hours of sleep. It was a good thing he had an early bedtime at 6:00 p.m. The drive to the campsite in Oregon would take 10 hours.

The drive there was dreary and dull. At one point, all he could see were trees, and trees, and trees, and trees—and the occasional deer or beaver dam on a stream. It was so uncivilized that he got excited at the sight of a passing hiker, a tent, or any sign of civilization.

At last, they reached the campsite. Derik, one of Henry’s friends, was already there. He looked surprised to see Henry.

“Henry?” Derik said. “Why? Your grades are amazing. Why do you need to improve them?”

“The principal said that if I do this, I can skip two grades instead of one.”

“Here for the same reason,” said Derik. “I thought my parents were the only ones who’d do that. Come on—let’s gather firewood so we don’t freeze to death. It’s cold out here, even in the summer.”

While shuffling around a grove of willow trees looking for dried twigs, Henry heard a noise—woosh woosh shhhhhhhhhhhā. Being naturally curious, he followed the sound.

“Maybe it’s a rare animal,” he said to himself. “Maybe I can go home faster.”

He followed the noise until he reached a stream—and a family of wild boars. It turns out, boars don’t like visitors. So he ran. And ran. And ran. Until he lost the boars… and also lost his way back to the campground.

He felt a mixture of feelings: frustrated that he couldn’t go home, sad he couldn’t see his parents, and—most of all—stuck.

What will he do now? Accept his fate and die to the boars?

Probably not.

Maybe he can continue downstream and find civilization. That sounded like a better idea.

As he followed the river, he stepped on a twig.

“Meowww! Watch your step! You stepped on my tail.”

An old tabby cat crawled out of the bushes.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t humans supposed to live in cities? Are you lost, or are you building a city here too?”

Henry jumped in surprise, but words managed to escape his mouth.

“I’m l-l-l-l-lost!” Henry stammered.

“Well then,” said the cat, “I think I know a way back to wherever you came from. Take this.”

The cat gave Henry a rock attached to a stick.

“This can break anything non-living—except that rock arc. That’s a portal I made to a mountain where, at the tippy top, there’s a dragon tangled in a dancing vine. This dragon is so fast it can travel at the speed of light—and then some. One hour of travel in a car would be one millisecond on his back. To light the portal, rub the rock on the arc and it will suck you in.”

“Wait—that’s impossible. Dragons don’t exist.”

“And neither do talking cats,” said the cat.

The cat was right. So Henry did just that.

“Àáâäǎæãåāah!” Henry screamed as the portal sucked him in. The blinding light inflamed his eyes—then nothing. An eerie silence washed over him.

The looming shadow of the mountain caught his attention. He started to approach. When he reached the foothills, he spotted a thousand dancing vines. He tried to wiggle through, but he got tangled in them. The vines barreled toward him and thrashed him around like a cat with a new chew toy.

“Helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllp!” he screamed, but no one could hear him. He knew it.

Then he remembered his rock.

He smashed it on the vines, but it was no use. The vines thrashed and rolled. Then flipped him upside down. Blood rushed to his big brain.

Then he remembered—“This can break anything non-living,” the cat had said.

He saw a rock on the floor. It was obsidian.

He remembered from a science book that obsidian is five times sharper than steel. When the vines brought him low, he picked up the obsidian and split it in two. He found what he hoped for most: one really sharp edge.

He tied it to his rock tool and tested it on a vine.

It worked. The vine snapped. He had one less vine on his chest.

It easily cut through the rest of them, one by one. As soon as he dropped to the floor, he smashed his rock into the ground. Dirt and vines flew into the air. The vines thrashed, looking for him—but by then, he was already long gone.

He allowed himself a quick celebration.

Then he remembered his report card. His worst subject was logic. Even if he had earned a 90% and a certificate, he didn’t like that. And now—for once—he had done something logical.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise. He looked ahead.

There was a massive cliff with flowing hot lava.

And there—a cannon.

He could use it to launch himself up… but decided to do it the next day.

After a restless night, he ran to the cannon. There he saw a horrifying sight: the cannon was intact… but it didn’t have an ounce of black powder.

He dug into his pockets in disappointment.

Then—he felt something.

He pulled it out: emergency matchsticks.

He got an idea. He crushed the match heads until he had just one. He spilled the red phosphorus into the cannon and lit it using the last match. Then—

Cabooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!

He landed on top of the mountain, standing before the dragon.

The dragon was restrained by one thick vine. But it was no match for Henry’s obsidian blade. And before he knew it—

He was riding home.

With his rare animal, he was free.

Photo: Paras Kapoor at unsplash