The cold earth that surrounded me and the blackness that enveloped my body, the wind howling outside as if the world were being torn asunder… ‘Let the world fall to pieces.’ I thought spitefully. As for me, the only company I had was the pain.
No. That wasn’t quite right. I hugged the bleeding gash in my side with my one good leg. The blood was coming more slowly, but I feared it wouldn’t stop in time. Behind me, my broken wing spread unfurled in a shattered canvas of agony, I was unable to close it. It’d been a week since I’d last eaten, but strangely, the gnawing pain in my gut was nowhere to be found. I closed my eyes. I did have something else besides the pain, and right now, it seemed the better alternative to lying here and waiting for my hearts to finally stop beating after all they’ve been through. The pictures came easily as I fled from the pain into a darkness deeper than any cave. I drowned in my memories…
When I was young, there was happiness, however briefly it lasted. It was always dark, but we liked it like that. My mother was a world unto herself, so large that I could lose myself crawling up her scaly leg and wandering up and down her torso. The few times that I found her head, I pulled on her ruff with my sharp little baby fangs. She would purr softly and gently pry me off, depositing me back near her belly were my other siblings resided. She was the sole source of warmth in the world and all good things came from her. Except the meat. Father brought the meat from the Outside. For the longest time, I had no desire to travel to, or even much inclination to think about the Outside. Mother was enough world for me. Father was nice too, but he was gone so often, I never really got to know him. I wish I could have learned their names…
I was still little more than a wingless lizard, my dormant wings hidden under the skin of my back when the Bad Thing happened. My mother had been teaching us how to sing together, teaching us the songs that told us how to be good dragons. Barely half the size of the meat creature father called a “horse,” I was filled to bursting with the desire to be a great and powerful dragoness like mother. I was at the age when I finally started asking about the Outside, but Mother always told me the Outside was not for little dragons such as I. She always said that I had the sweetest voice of the clutch…
The Bad Thing started when Father stumbled into the cave, flapping wildly and landing so heavily on the stone floor that I was bounced clear into the air. I remembered landing on my tail and I’d started to cry. I cried because of the pain I felt and because Father looked scary. I smelled blood on him, but not the good kind of blood, it was his own. Father spoke frantically to Mother about…
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
