Kopec sat at the old school desk, one of the only pieces of furniture he possessed, the other being his chair.  Kopec and his furniture took up a measly portion of a nine foot by twelve foot room, one of eight others in the rooming house, which cowered amongst a dour street full of cramped rooming houses.  He dreamed of escaping to the country perhaps to take residence in an old farm house, or perhaps a gardener’s cottage on one of the outlying estates that dotted the county.  With chin resting on hands, elbows growing sorer by the moment, he gazed out of the soot smudged window.  It is not important that you, the reader, understand from what contorted past Kopec had sprung, nor is it important that a great deal of description be imparted regarding his appearance, dull in both instances will suffice. Kopec was not a man much given to gregarious pastimes, he derived what little pleasure he could from the inner torment that his thoughts provided. Each thought was a novella or poetic narrative wrapped in endless spiritual speculations each standing upon the shoulders of the other as if aspiring to eternal greatness.  Upon this scene, dust motes settled, standing one upon the other like the thoughts in the mind of Kopec.

Eventually Kopec tired of peering through the smudged glass and scraping his chair backward over the cracked linoleum stood up from the table. Leaning forward he unlatched the frame and pushed out.  With a whimpering sound the window opened reluctantly to the outside air. “Oh God, it really is gray” remarked Kopec. He had not been sure until this point whether or not it was merely the glass that imparted the depressingly dull caste to the sky.  He resumed his position at the table, again scraping the chair across the floor and sitting down. Reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, he withdrew a tattered piece of paper and a well chewed pencil which he proceeded to arrange in front of himself.  After some deliberation, he inscribed a cryptic rune, pressing overly hard into the paper as if to secure benefit from occult intent. The inscription lay upon the table before him and fluttered a little in the slight breeze coming in from the window.  Over the rooftops, a slight glimmer of light oozed through the gloom and out of the corner of his eye he discerned a slight movement in the clouds, almost as if a crack was opening and something was squirming to gain entry into this world.

In one movement Kopec stood, knocked over the chair in which he had been sitting and grabbed the paper he had been occupied with.  The pencil spun several times on the table and eventually toppled over the edge. That which had commanded his attention was no longer the subject of peripheral vision, but was in fact becoming more and more discernable as an actual object, growing ever larger as it approached over the rooftops.  It looked at first like a bird, but as it drew closer and more detail could be made out, it looked more like a lizard, a lizard with wings and a very long tale.  It had initially appeared black, and indeed it was quite dark, but the underlying hue was reddish overall with some jet black features.  Kopek was unable to determine whether it was flying toward him, or merely performing some act of reconnaissance.  He was struck not with horror, but with a fascination bordering upon childish glee as the creature came closer to his street. He set to pushing the desk out of the way and leaning into the small space provided by the open window, waved and beckoned to the beast.