Heating Up by Shirley Golden

Amelia still isn't sure what it was she saw that day exactly, but it had wings and scales and claws.

It was in the greenhouse, chomping on the tomatoes.  It must have flown in through the windows that opened as it heated up inside.

She thought of calling Carl but he'd only try to squash it.  He was precious over his tomatoes.

It glanced up and tomato juice dribbled down its jaws.

She retrieved the jar - the one she used to rescue spiders before Carl sucked them up with the hoover.  But it wasn't big enough.  She dug out Carl's old fishing net and hoped the mesh would hold.

When she swiped at it, it screeched, claws tangling, scales changing colour from black to red.  It puffed a stream of fire and melted the net, searing the remaining tomatoes.

Carl shot out of the house, abandoning the TV and waving his arms.

"It's a dragon," she said.

"I can't believe you did that."  He eyed the matches that she used to start bonfires.  "The tomatoes and my fishing net, what next?"

"But…"

"It wasn't a dragon, Amelia.  I'm sick of your stories."

"I didn't do it, I swear."

He folded his arms.

"Okay, it wasn't a dragon…"  She had to admit, it was pretty unlikely.

In the end, she confessed, the same as when a dwarf pulled up the turnips early and a fairy stole the just-ripened plums.

But the truth is Amelia still isn't sure what she saw on any of those days, exactly.