Return to the Days Before

She bought the flower stickers because they remind her of the time before the dragons came, blowing the beach to glass, the land to ashes.  The flowers she knew from her adolescence, and are a way to take her mind, at least, back. 

She was on the beach when they arrived.  Not the hottest day, but dry and bright with only the slightest breeze.  Her circle of friends had normally loved to find a little crater in the dunes to make their own.  The beauty of the day had probably saved them then, as they’d had no need for shelter from sun or wind. 

Instead, they’d sat atop the dunes and gained a good view of the approaching storm that had been forecast only by rumour; and a wonderful view of the first bursts of fire emanating from it. 

They felt the heat, heard the screams. 

And ran.

They, ran, then cycled, home, ignoring every sight on the way, intent only on getting far enough away.

She served as a dragonslayer after, has seen too much for one lifetime.  Left tired but victorious, she seeks ways to link up with the before time we are trying to restore the world to.  Her bicycle and those stickers are her latest attempt.

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Written for Flash! Friday - the challenge was to use the setting of a Beach along with the following picture prompt:

 

Old Woman. CC2.0 photo by Giorgio Grande.

250 Words: And then a dragon boarded

We heard there was gold out west so we travelled into the city and boarded a train headed that way, in a carriage of full of people seeking riches.  Its riches as it turned out.

The dragon had escaped men and hidden it’s loot underground, only to end up with us folks trying to mine it.  So it had come to warn us of what would happen should we travel on and join the invasion of its territory.

It was in Oklahoma, we later discovered, that it happened- right in the pan handle.  All we felt was a great thump above us on the roof of the carriage before coming off the rails.  

What had happened was that the dragon had flown the length of the train, tapping on each carriage roof before nudging up the locomotive off the rails.  

We all broke out of the carriage and took aim with whatever we had to hand- Colts, Winchesters an’ all- and blasted deep into the beast’s belly.  It flew off and landed not far away, slowly bleeding to death in the pan handle.

And now we’re all in jail for damage to Railroad property.  They don’t believe us about the dragon.  They believe we were delirious from the journey and that our description matches that of a Chinese dragon, anyway, and claim our tale makes no sense at all. 

It’ll be the booby hatch if we keep on.  Better to drop it, make a living and pay off our debt.

250 Words: The passing of the last dragon

Rotclore lay still in a cave beneath the Himalayas, his last thoughts rolling through his aged mind.  It was long since he last flew or breathed fire and many of his teeth had fallen out, while his famous red claws were now blunt and split.

It was at least a hundred years since he had last seen a fellow dragon and not a lot less since he had taken refuge here under the great mountains of Central Asia.

In his life Rotclore had seen many major events in the history of dragons and of men.  More than a few times he had fought with men and had helped in other ways, too.

Until the time came when magic began to drift from the minds of men and dragons became mistrusted and then hunted with great ferocity.

And thus, burned and with a diamond-tipped arrow in his hide, Rotclore flew east, away from those who had turned against him.  Always he had regretted and wondered if he could have helped the rest of his kind.  But his mother had bid her son, much faster (and weaker) than most, to flee in such a way that Rotclore knew he could not refuse.

And so he flew east with the three eggs hoping to keep them safe, hoping to be joined by another dragon some day, or to find a wizard to hatch them.  But finding only safety, Rotclore had finally come to the end of the line and passed on without fanfare.