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Storage of stories written for The Bradbury, 2025. |
| Various stories created at the (hopeful) rate of one a week for the year 2025, |
| Sir Percival Antigonish As I was going down the stair. I met a man who wasn’t there. He wasn’t there again today, Oh, how I wish he’d go away. William Hughes Mearns “There’s more to it than that,” said Sir Percival. “It’s not just that I can’t seem to find any dragons.” Sir Lancelot raised a sarcastic eyebrow. Percival sighed before continuing. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I think the problem is that I don’t believe in them.” A confused expression crossed Lancelot’s face. He frowned then and leant forward. “You mean dragons? You don’t believe in dragons?” “It’s not as silly as you think,” blustered Percival. “Fine for you, with your long list of dragons killed and damsels rescued, but I’ve never seen one. You’ve no idea how hard it is to believe in a creature as big and unlikely as a dragon. I mean, for a start, how can they fly when they only have such puny little wings to get them off the ground? And that’s before I even start on the stupidity of them breathing fire. I just can’t believe it and I think that’s why I’m not finding them.” Silence fell on the two as Lancelot considered this. His eyes closed in concentration, then suddenly opened again as a thought came to him. “It doesn’t help that I can assure you I’ve seen them?” Percival shrugged. “Not a bit.” “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, then. But I think you’re right.” It was Percival’s turn to look confused. “About what?” “That this is the reason why you can’t find any. If you don’t believe in something, you’re hardly going to accept the evidence of your own eyes, even if you do see one.” “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” said Percival. “So you need to work on your belief.” Percival seemed unconvinced. “How do I do that?” he asked. Lancelot leaned forward and started to draw with his finger in the dirt. “First, you’re going to need to know what you’re looking for.” He scribbled away at the figure he was drawing. “I’ve seen the pictures,” said Percival. “Yes, but you have no idea of size.” Lancelot looked up from his drawing. “There, that’s basically what a dragon looks like. Now, about size…” He looked up and around the clearing, seeking for something to make a comparison with. Percival was looking at Lancelot’s drawing. “Looks like a dragon, I’ll give you that.” But Lancelot was pointing at a tree growing at the edge of the clearing where they had met. “There, that tree. That’s about how tall they can be. Although many of them are much smaller. And it’s true they can fly and breathe fire.” “Doesn’t really help,” said Percival. Lancelot studied him for a moment. “I don’t know how I can make you believe,” he said. “That’s something you’ll have to do for yourself. But take my word for it, they exist and if you try hard enough, you’ll find your dragon.” “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Lance. But I don’t know how to make myself believe.” “It’ll come to you, I’m sure of that. Just keep trying.” Lancelot turned away and wandered over to his steed. “I guess we should be going. You have a dragon to find and kill and I have a damsel wants rescuing.” So the two friends left the clearing and set out on their separate quests. They were not to see each other again for several years. When they did, it was another chance encounter, this time on the northern frontier and they were both engaged in hunting down bandits. It was not long before Lancelot brought the subject around to dragons. “Did you ever find your dragon, Percy?” he asked. Percy looked uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he answered. “I did find one soon after we had that talk.” “Ah, so maybe I helped after all.” Lancelot had a smug grin on his face. “Yeah, I guess that might have been it,” conceded Percival. There was silence for a while and, when Lancelot realised his friend was not going to expand on that statement, he asked, “And how did that go?” Percival looked into the distance. “The dragon?” “Yes, the dragon.” Lancelot was becoming aware that Percival was being unusually reticent. “Oh, that. Well, nothing really.” “Nothing?” “Yeah, nothing.” Lancelot exploded with impatience. “What d’you mean, nothing? Did you kill the blighter or what?” Percival was still staring off into the distance. “Nah, didn’t kill it.” “Well, what then?” Percival looked up, his face flushed and angry. “The bloody thing was huge,” he said. “I had no idea. Scared s***less I was and that was before it blew fire at me. Bloody hell, Lance, you coulda warned me a bit more. Barely escaped with my life.” Lancelot grinned. “Ah, but you believe now, don’t you?” Word count: 777 For The Bradbury, Week 7 2025. Also entered for Senior Center Forum, February 2025. |
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