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Draggin’ Dragon

I promised Ken Broad at Fictional Campfire that I would write a flash fiction story according to one of the pictures he offered last Super Snap.  It’s a little late, but here it is.

Draggin’ Dragon
by Sandra Bell Kirchman 

They tricked me!  I went to the cliff on the night of the full moon, as usual, for my monthly rightful tribute of a delicious young virgin.  Also as usual, there she was, in mouth-watering loveliness…fresh, unspoiled, tender flesh.

And then…I can hardly speak of it…excuse me for a moment.  HE WIPES AWAY A TEAR.  Just as I was reaching for her, she was somehow pulled out of my grasp and one of their damned warriors appeared.  They are always encased in metal, which gets into my teeth and gives me terrible indigestion, so I avoid eating them if possible.

They kept jamming it into my buttocks.

However, this fellow was as annoying as a broken wing vane.  He kept jabbing at me with his spear.   Puny thing, really fit only for a toothpick, but annoying all the same.  If he stuck it in my eye, it could cause me real trouble.

Then…oh, the infamy of it all!  Excuse me again.  HE WIPES AWAY ANOTHER TEAR.  You’d think after 100 years that these…these PEOPLE would just stick to our bargain.  One young virgin a month in exchange for my protection.  I haven’t eaten beef on the hoof for a century.  Think of that, how faithfully I kept to the bargain.

But there these treacherous humans were, jamming one of their flimsy warcrafts into my buttocks!  A dozen or so were poking at me with all manner of sharp instruments.  Methinks in the past hundred years, they have improved their metal, damn their eyes, since these stings almost hurt.  And I certainly was not going to swallow all these flesh in a can.  Terminal indigestion!  But they were trying to provoke me.

As I swung my head around, I could see in the distance another of their abominable warcraft pulling from shore and heading for me with obvious nefarious intent.

So then came the decision.  One has to admire their courage.  If the positions were reversed, I don’t know if I would attack me like that.  One swipe of my tail would take out the first craft and I would then crunch the second craft in two.  Thus the dilemma.  Do I give them one more chance to honor their commitment to me, or do I wipe them out and feast for a month?  What to do? What to do?

I had pretty much decided to give them one more chance.  After all, despite their treachery tonight, they had honoured their commitment for 100 years.  That would be…let me see…twelve hundred fresh young virgins.  And I have to admit, every single one of them was tasty.

So I turned around and gave them a warning bellow.  That’s when their perfidy became vicious.  There was an explosion, lots of smoke and agonizing pain in my right eye.  I bellowed again, this time in distress, swung my head involuntarily and backed away, inadvertently swamping the near warcraft.

 I also accidentally knocked the one fellow off the cliff.  I didn’t even see him splat on the rocks below.  My eye was bleeding and the anguish of the wound overcame me.  Who would have thought these miserable creatures would have developed explosives in a mere century! I am ashamed to say, I fled.

Now I sit in my cave, contemplating the sins of these humans.  I could call on relatives and friends to go and punish these mutineers as they so richly deserve.  But then said friends and relatives might finally find my treasure.  Or I could go myself and risk having my other eye shot out.  HE SHUDDERS.

 Or I could rest for a hundred years and perhaps heal my eye in the process.  It’s been an eon since I’ve had a really good sleep.  HE YAWNS.

Copyright (c) 2011 by Sandra Bell Kirchman
All rights reserved.

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