Fable
Malenda
And there he was - a bare beast with taloned, varmint hands clawing at this young girl. Why, she was only 3 years of age. Her folds of fat, waiting to become longer limbs. Her teeth longing for a home in the crevices of that child's mouth, impatiently hoping to some day learn the word: Help.
By Sophie Wakefield 3 years ago in Fiction
The Fable of The Dragon Prince
Fire fumed through the trees, withering them away with its heat. Ash rained from the sky, settling on an infant boy. His cries echoed through the forest. The crashing of footsteps as a large silhouette approached the child. With every cry, it drew closer, until it was face to face with the smut-covered baby. If it weren’t for the illumination of the flames, the creature would have blended into the night. The dragon's mouth simmered; sparks danced through its teeth as it examined the child. The youngsters cries quickly turned to giggles, amused by the dancing sparks. Imitating the dragon, the baby’s teeth too began to spark. Small flames made their way through the gaps of what little teeth the infant had. Curious still, the boy reached out and touched the dragon. In an instant, the dragon recoiled, roaring in pain.
By Nick Forbes3 years ago in Fiction
Saccades
In spoken Romancy, the word "dragon" in its most literal definitions, means "non-living", or "un-alive". This was a fact that somewhat perplexed Iris, as she didn't recall feeling particularly "un-alive". As far as she was concerned, she was more alive than anyone. Especially, she was more alive than the little mortal things that defined her that way. The peoples of Roma, always so quick and desperate to define. Everything always had to be dangerous, or ancient, or foreign. They loved their definitions, even for the things they didn’t understand. Things like Iris. She was older than them, stranger than them too. A piece of the old world itself. But the peoples of Roma had their ways and Iris had hers. She was not one of them, of course. She was, as they say, a dragon; one of only four. Moreover, she was the oldest dragon, the first one. That made her the oldest thing of all things. However the little mortals chose to define her, that was their business. She knew what she was, and she knew her mission. She was blessed with it, burdened with it, even before her first moment in this world. Those misguided mortal things that so misunderstood her were actually under her sworn protection. Yes, that was her mission. They were her mission. Her blessing and her burden. She was created, just like her sister and two brothers, to cradle and protect mortal life. A weighty design to be sure, but one she was more than capable of fulfilling. She had a purpose. It was something she carried in her bosom with pride, even if the little people on the ground didn’t know it. It was enough for her to know.
By C. Martin Thornton3 years ago in Fiction
Witches by Nightfall
It was not a surprise when she came knocking at my door. The rain was coming down in torrents, and her umbrella did nothing to stop the relentless water from soaking her fine clothes. In my hand I held my favorite tarot deck, and in my heart, I could feel her sadness. “Moonchild, I require your immediate services.” Though we were acquainted, her tone remained steady and none the less chilly, as if she were talking to one of her handmaidens. I nodded and stepped aside, allowing her to walk into my warmly lit home.
By Serena Norris3 years ago in Fiction
Fox Tales
A grown dragon finds a lost — or abandoned — toddler in the forest. The dragon approached quietly, with uncanny stealth and grace considering her massive size. She gently sniffed at the child who lay huddled at the base of a large Sugi (杉) tree with nothing but a fleece blanket to cover him. Lifting her head with a look of curiosity and surprise, she sensed a magical aura about the boy and noticed his blanket bearing the crest of the high Vulpine Court of Celestial Foxes. The boy looked human, probably around two years of age, and unlike the local population of humans in this region who all have ebony black hair, this boy had very light blond hair, nearly white in fact.
By D. E. King3 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Borne
When the last great worm happened across a ragged, tearful toddler just within the shadowed fringes of the deep, dark wood, it most naturally ate the wee thing on the spot. "Snapped her up like a grape," said the villagers, though not a one had seen it happen. The child's parents were notorious for reveling at the village pub until all hours and then sleeping late the following day. The child had grown accustomed in her few years to wandering farther and farther afield in search of berries for foraging and by the time her parents stirred that morning, the enormous shadow of the worm that fell over the girl had already come and long since gone.
By Amy Deringer Robinson3 years ago in Fiction
Son of a Dragon
My mother once told me that humans are greedy, violent, ungrateful creatures who never think. Never think about what they’re doing or what will happen after. The bedtime stories she told me were terrifying: a young human boy was gifted magic beans for his sick ox. Instead of sharing the beans and feeding his starving mother, he climbed the beanstalk, stole from the sky giants, and even killed one of them. A pair of children were abandoned by their selfish parents in the woods. They get taken in by a kind old woman living alone in the forest. She feeds them her best saved treats and in return, they kill her to have all the rest of the food to themselves.
By Taylor Malais3 years ago in Fiction
The Dragons' Daughter
He had come to the forest to visit the Shrine; he hadn't imagined he'd be clearing its rubble. He paused at the edge of the grove and surveyed the damage. Bits of charred wood slumped over the stone foundation, and a lump near the back showed where an altar had been. Most of the surrounding trees were unharmed, though soot hung to the leaves like black veils of mourning.
By Judah LoVato3 years ago in Fiction
the monkey's wedding
In a gust of wild wind, the gecko on my hand had transformed into my Sweetie, with her grey scales morphing into that teal tail, indigo coat and violet eyes, she shifted into her dragon's suit before me and swept us away in a static spark, disguised as a fly to the average human eye.
By Mingling with the Moon 3 years ago in Fiction
