Daily Post: Slur (Fantasy Fiction)


(My plan was not to write stream of continued stories  but now with the help of daily prompt, I am going to try writing them. First story in the series: Glitter)

‘Firde!!!’ the Slurred Cat screamed.

‘Wait what did he scream? Did he say fire?’ Maddy asked.

Before One Eyed Solomon could reply, they heard the gush of fire. If you have never heard fire being sprayed like water from a water hose; it sounds exactly like water. No one can actually make a differentiation between the two unless they see the spray is either fire or water.

Maddy looked and found that from the base of the cave, a stream of fire was being poured out. Only…

‘Is it just me or that fire is too small?’

‘How can fire be small Maddy?’

Solomon looked as well. None of the two were in any immediate danger of being fired upon as they were on the opposite direction and quite far from the cave.

‘Yes you are write. It is almost like that fire is coming from a small mouth.’

‘Small jaw sir. It is a reptile.’

‘Shut up Maddy. Think about what we are going to do next?’

The spray of fire stopped abruptly as it had appeared. Screams from the burned victims could be heard now. The two men had their eyes glued to the entrance of the cave and they were waiting to see what would happen.

‘Is ith gone?’ Slurred Cat asked standing directly behind them.

‘I don’th know.’ Maddy said and immediately received a glower from Solomon.

They got their answer soon as the dragon came out of the cave. The dragon was green scaled and small almost the size of a human when crawling. It was definitely a infant still.

‘So the dragon inside gave birth to a small dragon. Are you sure you want the gold inside which is slick with dragon fluids?’ Maddy asked.

‘Shut up. You have not heard the story have you? Three dragons together captured the cave. They killed almost every man and woman inside.No dragon was birthed inside.’

The dragon was still outside the cave when an arrow was fired on it. The arrow hit the skull of dragon and bounced off as if it was a pebble. The dragon was looking towards the direction where the arrow was fired from.

Another arrow. The result was the same, it bounced off the scales as if a pebble. It did irritate the dragon though.

‘What are they doing?’

‘A mistake.’

Everyone who had bow and arrow was firing arrows now and little good it did to the dragon until one unfortunate shot hit the dragon on the eye. The dragon howled in agony and …. it’s scream was not terrifying.

The scream was a child’s inarticulate scream: full of agony. It breathed fire in all directions burning arrows and heating stones before bolting back in. There was a silence in the night as if time was scared to move. It had to broken by Maddy

‘Now what sir?’

‘These guys run. We wait for the dragon’s revenge. Maddy they are coming out soon.’

 


 

Thank you for reading

 

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Daily Post: Hideout (Fantasy Fiction)


(Unintentional continuation of Glitter fiction piece I wrote yesterday)

‘What are we doing sir?’

‘We are waiting Maddy.’ One Eyed Solomon grumbled. No one knows why his name is One Eyed as he has both of his eyes.

‘We are hiding aren’t we sir?’ Maddy said.

‘No, we are waiting. We are looking for an opportunity to go in.’ Solomon explained to his long time friend and biggest critic. Wiseass.

‘Sir, the three dragons are inside. What do you expect to do with the said opportunity?’

‘Why Maddy, steal the gold!’ Solomon said with a glint of greed in his eyes.

‘The three dragons breathe fire sir!’

‘We breathe oxygen and they burn oxygen. We are somewhat alike than you think Maddy. Plus, I am going to steal the gold and not try to ask them not to breathe fire. ‘

‘Aye. I’m sure that is what the 20 soldiers outside the cave did. It clearly didn’t work out well for them. ‘

Solomon couldn’t say anything to that. He has seen the bodies with his own eyes, or the one eye he still had working. 20 or so soldiers’ bodies were burned beyond recognition and some bones had fused together. It was an estimate that they were just human bodies and no animals were mixed together with them. When those three dragons had ventured out unexpectedly, the soldiers were not ready.

No one will be ready for one dragon and those poor soldiers were facing three. Their last moments would be filled with smell of shit, piss and intense heat.

‘Yeah you are correct. I need gold Maddy. I can’t go back to being a fisherman. The dragons burned my boat, they boiled the lake water. Did you know that fishes were cooked in the lake because of the heat. Sure there are enough fishes for everyone now, but it will not last. I am collecting gold for the damage they have caused.’

‘The dragons will not see it that way.’

‘They will never know when I am in and out’

‘That is what she said’

Solomon looked at his friend and saw him trying to hold on to his maniacal laughter. Once Maddy started laughing, he laughed like a madman.Maddy succeeded for a second but looking at Solomon’s lips curl he burst into loud laughter. Solomon couldn’t stop himself and started laughing with his friend.

In their laughter, they gave away their hideout position to the other groups arrayed around the cave mouth. They never noticed the dragon’s head looming out of the cave either.

Daily Post: Glittter (Fantasy Fiction)


‘I wanna go out Dad!’

‘Out? Did you say OUT?’ Dad screamed back at his son.

‘Yes dad. I am bored here, there is nothing to do. We are living on heaps of gold which is really uncomfortable to sleep over. I have not seen the sun or the moon in over 3 years.’

‘What are you talking about? We have been here only for 3 months.’ Dad said and then looked elsewhere. He turned back to face his son ‘Anyway you know there are people waiting outside so that they can kill us.’

‘Humans are small. We can kill them.Killing most of them is how we got inside right?’

Dad looked thoughtful, contemplating his son’s logic as that is how he got the bed of gold. He arrived like summer’s heatwave, scorching the fields outside the mountain. He would have had a difficult time to kill everyone if he had come alone but he didn’t. He brought his family with him.

Humans might be able to withstand and rally together to fight one of his kind, but against three they would have to run like babies. He looked towards where his mate slept. She looked so peaceful sleeping there that he had urge to go to her. She wouldn’t like that though, after all between the two of them: she was more ferocious.

His son though, he was the perfect mixture between his reptilian methods and his mate’s hot anger. However, his temperament was marred by the lack of patience and for the last couple of days he kept bothering for different things to do.

‘Alright, what do you plan on doing once you go outside?’

‘Fly! I don’t even know if I can fly anymore. I think I am just too fat to fly now. I also want to scare the sheep. I want to set lands and trees on fire. I want to make new friends.’

‘You know right that your friends will the first one to try and kill you?’

‘Yes I know that.’

He waited for his son to say something more but clearly his son had nothing more to add. He looked carefully at his son then: the glitter of the gold lying all around them shined on his jaw. His son looked…sad.

He got up, and shook off the gold coins off his scales. He can always find another cave filled with gold. But first he needed to entertain his son around and that is what he was gonna do.

‘I am taking our son outside. Do you wanna come with us?’ He asked his mate and braced himself for her attack. She did not like being awakened from her somber.

‘You are an idiot. You will not be able to care for him so I will have to come along with you. ‘ his mate grumbled. She wouldn’t have liked if he went to her but for her son she would let go of her sleep and he would let go of his bed of gold.

The three dragons went outside that night, flying and kissing the moon. Then they set the night sky aflame.

Daily Prompt: Craftmanship (War Fiction)


‘Metal forging is a craft, a skill that one in every 100 men have. Sure, anyone can heat up metal but how to mold it into a sword or an armor: that is a skill. When to cool a metal and how much to beat it, these things can be only done by instincts. You have the knack for this kind of craft. So promise me Pete that the only time you pick up a sword or a hammer is to deliver it. Battle is better off for others.’

Pete remembered that particular conversation with his grandpa. He could never forget it, he has trouble remembering his grandpa’s face at times but that conversation was easy to recall. It shaped his life.

He deeply breathed, trying to steady his speeding heartbeat. He was scared. He has never stepped out on a battlefield before and now the battle was outside. His brothers, the soldiers with whom he has grown up were getting slaughtered outside and he could hear women screaming. Houses were aflame, horses were running wild and the world sounded like it was about to end.

Maybe it was.

He looked at around his armory: he had a hammer, his favorite, a sword and some knives. Enough to fight with, enough to die with it. He knew a little about fighting but he was prepared: he threw his sword into the flame to heat it up. Nothing burned more than seared flesh and he was going to use the heat. His hammer had a long shaft which would be perfect for swinging and gave him reach. Knives would be perfect for arm to arm combat.

Let’s go.

He could hear some men standing outside his hut and swords clashing. He was not sure but he could hear someone cursing in his native tongue. There was a squeal and the swords stopped ringing. One final curse in his native tongue and someone fell down.

Pete ran outside his hands on the heated sword with his hammer on his back. In a second he had swung his sword and had cleanly decapitated a soldier. The heated metal had sealed the wound so no blood came pulsating out. Maybe it was the lack of blood that gave him an advantage as no one turned towards him until too late.

He cut off another soldier’s sword hand, sealing the wound. He turned his attention towards to the other soldiers standing around him: three more, four if you count the maimed soldier. He screamed a battle cry his friends had thought him a while ago, his voice eerily strong.

The soldiers were ready and were able to deflect his swings with ease. However, the sword’s heat threw them backward. He was bigger than all three of them, so he swung again this time putting his full weight on the swing. It worked as the soldier made the mistake of blocking the swing rather than deflecting it. Both the swords were thrust into the soldier’s chest and locking them together. Pete tried to pry loose his sword but to no avail. He had two more to kill for now but he couldn’t do it.

One soldier was at arm’s reach so he did just that, he grabbed the soldier’s neck and squeezed while he kicked the other. With only one soldier to focus on he grabbed his knife and thrust it in the soldier’s eye socket.

With one soldier and one maimed soldier left, he grabbed his hammer.

He could see another group of soldiers in the distance, they had noticed him as well. No matter, he will get to them soon enough. He swung his hammer low and blew the maimed soldier’s knee out. He kept the momentum of the swing and turned around to aim the hammer on the soldier’s head.

It was just like beating a metal into shape. Only this time blood came out.

More soldiers, none of them had any long range weapon. They would die soon. That day, the village was Pete’s forge. All the soldiers were infantry it was a while before any archers made contact with Pete. By the time they did, at least 50 were smashed and the hammer was glistening with blood.

An arrow through Pete’s heart put him down.

Daily Prompt: Recognize (Fiction)


“Do you know who this man is?” Counselor Michaels asked the witness. It was a very important question as it will either make or break the case. However, the witness couldn’t have been more unreliable.

Joe Monley was a two time convicted felon, one for B&E and the other for manslaughter. He has been clean for ten years now but there is always a shred of doubt when putting people like Joe on the stand.

Plus, a couple of days ago newspapers have discovered that Joe had an alcohol addiction. Alcoholics Anonymous was supposed to be well, anonymous. This revelation had put Joe’s testimony into jeopardy and Michaels would have removed him from the stand if he had any other witness.

No one else in the bar had seen the kidnapping of the waitress. No one in an entire bar.

The counselor waited for Monley to answer, his hands behind his back holding a pencil. He was tensed and was flexing the pencil. If Joe did not answer anytime soon then he would snap the pencil.

“Yes I do” Joe answered. Michaels eased off the pencil and continued on the prepared set of questions. Michaels plan was initially focus on the kidnapping but in light of recent events, he had to make some changes.

He had to provoke his client that day and he would never forgive himself. After Joe had answered all of the prepared questions perfectly, it was time for Michaels to take the rug from underneath the defense. He was sure that the defense would questions Joe’s testimony considering his Alcoholic Anonymous membership.

“How long have you been going to AA meetings Mr Monley?”

Joe’s head snapped into attention, his eyes narrowing. This was a low blow and even the defense was not completely prepared for this.

“Three years. I have been sober for the last two years”

“Then what were you doing in the bar?” Michaels asked.

After the papers leaked details of Joe’s AA membership, Michaels had asked Joe the same question and Joe stormed off. Now he could not storm off the courtyard.

“I was meeting somebody. I am sponsoring somebody and he had relapsed. I was there to take him home and take care of him.”

Michaels could have continued, but he stopped. He had already crossed a line with these questions but if he asked who Joe was sponsoring then it would be more…dirty.

He thanked the witness and the Judge concluding his line of questions.

Joe had done what was expected of him: recognize the kidnapper.

Daily Prompt: Oversight (Fiction)


Nothing bad can ever come here. Last night’s events were not oversight, but they were a result of complacency. How else can three vampires just waltz into Wolf town?

Wolf town is the holy land for all kinds of wolfs all over the world. Werewolves, direwolves, siberian wolves and so on. Sometimes even Huskies are welcome here because predators have hearts too. Huskies are nothing but little lost children of wolves were they not?

It was considered common knowledge that no wolf will ever have to fight for his or her life here in Wolf Town. They can yap and howl all night long with their mates and bros but not get killed. Vampires and ghouls respected this knowledge and wolves territories. They emulated Wolf town a couple of centuries ago and created their own towns.

The names of their towns were alluding as compared to the simple Wolf town. Vampires called their home Bloodhaven and ghouls just called it Brains. Zombies tried to sue ghouls over the town name but no court wanted to have a huge racial dispute on its hand.

Zombies could not settle this the old fashion way, after all attack on one town will lead to an overall attack on all homes. Eventually Zombies called their home “Grrr!” as it was easy for them to say it.

“Where will you go now mate?”

“Grrrr!”


 

The vampires were left on poles exposed to sunlight. They withered and squealed against the sunlight but eventually all of them died. Sunlight gave vampires the most excruciating deaths and after last night’s atrocity they deserved it. But the old wolves of the pack were wary of such a public execution.

“Let’s kill them quietly and then feast on them!”

“They have no blood inside them! Feast on old festered organs?!”

“Well we can always bury them and wait for them to turn to bones!”

“Bones?!” the Husky exclaimed.

Others saw their child and were ashamed. One by one they howled and the Husky joined their howls. The elders were proud of the Husky’s howl though.


The vampired walked towards Wolf town’s square and faced the decayed bodies of the three dead. Wolves all over the town had heard of the new fang in town but he kept waving a white flag as a sign of surrender.

He also had a couple of balls which distracted everyone: elder and young pups.

“You should stop throwing those balls.”

“Your kind is so easy to distract”

“But we don’t attack unless offended”

“True. I would like offer my kinds’ sincerest apologies.”

“The vampires almost killed three wolves and ate one pup”

“And you killed them. Vengeance is dish best served cold”

“Your kind is cold already, they need to lighten up”

The vampire looked down at the old wolf standing next to his hip for a few seconds before laughing aloud. He kept laughing as more wolf heads tilted seeing his strange reaction. He stopped eventually.

“I offer truce. These deaths were apt, and my kind could not have given them a better punishment. As for compensation, we are ready to offer heaps of tennis balls, bones and half of our prey for a month. Let your mouths feast on succulent human flesh so that you will not have to hunt.”

The elder wolf waited and thought about the offer hoping there was no oversight. But wolf are after all parents of Huskies, they trusted very easily.


 

Thank you so much for reading. Comment below to let me know what you thought about it.

Daily Prompt: Exquisite Art (Fiction)


‘What is stolen?’ the curator exclaimed.

Security guard swallowed, remembering that it was her job to keep The Pandora safe in the museum. After all, it was the only painting in the world which can be spread 360 degree.

Now, someone had stolen it.


 

‘Hey bro!’ the street beggar called out to the passing police officer. The officer never changed his step and ignored the beggar completely.

The ones who are supposed to protect everyone sometimes have a different notion of everyone.

‘Alright, I could have told you about the painting.’ the beggar mumbled.


 

‘How much did this painting cost?’ the officer asked.

‘How much?!’ the curator exclaims. He always hated those who had no clue about art. He hated those more who tried to put a price tag over something so unique as The Pandora.

‘It was priceless! There was never any other painting like this. You ask me the price? It took Vincent Bonjo 15 years to make that painting. He ran out of money, he lost his house and eventually completed the painting while staying on the streets. Where else can anyone find a painting like this?’

‘It still would have been evaluated. Any estimate would do sir, we would like to know how much monetary value was actually stolen.’

‘3 years ago it could have bought a small state in this country. Three years ago? After a while we stopped estimating the price because we would need bigger numbers.’

‘Okay priceless was better.’

‘That is what I said.’

‘Any offers to buy the painting recently?’

‘No offers recently. The painting had been stored away as the wing was under construction for a while and it was going to be unveiled tomorrow.’

‘When did the construction complete?’

‘How would I know? I am in charge of the paintings and not the refurbishment.’

‘In charge of the painting? Clearly you were not good at your job.’

‘I am not in charge of the security. She was not good at his job. I fired her!’

‘Fired her? So the security in charge is not here? We would like to talk to her.’

The curator at this point called over his security for further information about the on duty guard. The officer exchanged some pleasantries before jumping to the topic of the guard.

There was something nagging him though, how could someone steal a huge 360 degree painting?

‘How big was the painting?’

‘I already told you the painting was the biggest deal!’

‘No you told me that the painting was one of the kind but you did not tell me the size of the painting.’

‘Oh the painting is about 20 m long and 1 m wide.’

‘That is not a large painting. It could have been easily stolen along with the construction equipment. I would like to know about the construction company.’


‘Hey bro!’ the beggar called out to the curator who was walking past. Even he did not look at the beggar, as if the space occupied by the beggar was non existent.

‘Shame! I could have told you about the painting.’ the beggar mumbles.


 

‘We don’t know anything about any painting.’ the suspect avows.

‘Then give us the name of every construction worker in the last couple of days.’ the officer counters.

‘Sure I already gave them. Your partner has them.’

‘He does?’

‘Yeah he does.’

‘Then why did you let me go all Hulk on you?’

‘I tried to tell you that your partner has them but you didn’t let me.’

‘But you should have told me sooner’

‘You did not let me!’

The officer looked around, clearly embarrassed about his mess up. He then slowly sulked away from the suspect as the suspect looked on. Just as the officer was about to leave the line of sight, he turned back at the suspect and says:

‘Don’t leave town.’


 

‘Hey fellows!’ the beggar greets some police officers. They ignore him too but he tries again. This time, one of the police officer answers.

‘What?’

‘You are here about the painting right?’

‘How the hell you know about that?’

‘I live right outside the museum.’

‘And you are high all the time.’

‘It is not my fault that petrol is so easily available’

‘What do you know about the painting?’

‘Just that the construction workers dropped something big on their way out.’

‘How big?’

‘About 20 X 1 m big’

‘You know where it is?’

‘I just have one condition.’


 

One week later after the case has been closed and the museum reopened. The guests were all patiently waiting for the opening of the new wing. They waited for the curtain to be opened so that they can be ushered into the wing and look at the The Pandora.

All except one person who was already standing inside the new wing, turning around to look at the 360 degree painting. The curator entered the wing and met the beggar.

‘It is beautiful isn’t it?’ the curator greets.

‘Yeah making it was very difficult’

‘I should thank you for that’ the curator paused and then added ‘You don’t look the same as you did back then’

‘Yeah, you know I ran out of colors at the end. I had to use some rotten tomatoes and other stuff I found in the garbage to finish this’

‘You wanted it to be called The Garbage

‘You wanted an exquisite name for an exquisite painting?’

Vincent Bonjo winked at the curator as their deal was now done. The painting was world famous, the curator had enough donations into this place and finally, the maker could see his masterpiece as a whole for the first time.


 

Thank you for reading! Keep commenting on the posts.

Daily Prompt: Cling (Fiction)


The smell clung to his self. He could never wash it out, no matter how many times he tried to wash his clothes. He tried to eradicate it out of his self by trying different techniques, by using the ways of his victims.

He traded perfumes from some of the best manufacturers of the world. They asked him just before their end what did he want. He told them. They laughed and then he joined their laughter.

After hearing him laugh, all the blood had drained from their face. They hurried to bring him perfumes, the costliest ones and the strongest ones. He used them and went out, leaving his victims to live another day.

Literally another day.

Cause he would come back the very next day, angry that the perfume did not work. They would beg more but he would not relent, not this time. You can always make one deal and when you break it, there is no going back. He never regretted doing his job.

In fact he loved his job. He got to travel all around the world. He could go to a country of peace, a country of war and a country barricaded against all of the world. He would sneak in, finish his mission and get out before anyone can notice what had happened.

They would notice after his work is done. That surprise on their faces would always amuse him and he would laugh. His laughter would be silent this time, for no one should hear him laugh.

Regardless of how much he loved his work, it was after all just his day job. The demands of the work impacted his physical appearance and it affected his odor. He cannot take it anymore, the bad odor oozing from his own self. He could smell the lifelessness from his victims radiating from him.

He hated that. Not only did he have to deal with other’s demise but also he had to carry their odor with him.

Once, he met a great tailor who bartered for a new dresscode. He agreed hopeful for the smell to cease. It did, for a day and then the fabric could no longer contain.

It was like a dam had broken and the smell just burst forth. He had killed one person by that smell alone. He went back to the tailor again and he finished his mission. It was the last barter he ever made.

Now, whenever the mission calls he gets up. He looks at his own image in the mirror. The face was barely recognizable anymore, his cheekbones looked ghastly. He tried to find his eyes but he couldn’t help but stare into the abyss.

The job had taken too much from him. Now, there was no way to stop.

He grabbed his cowl, put it on and grabbed his scythe. He had missions to complete.

Daily Prompt: Shine


The light that shines brightest burns fastest

Chanakya kept thinking of the line in his mind since morning. He was scared. He had played his hand and now his gamble might backfire on him.

Definitely result in some firing.

He had no choice but to put one foot after another. He had to pretend that everything’s normal, that his organization was not about to fall flat on its face.

So he made his breakfast, played his favorite Beethoven and sat in silence. Before he started eating, he picked a pinch of salt with his fingers and sprinkled it on his omelette. He looked up at the wall opposite his seat, at the clock.

9:55 am.

Only half an hour more. He sighed and started eating, the knife sliding smoothly cutting the omelet into pieces. He had about 35 minutes of freedom today before the police barges in, according to his estimation.

He was counting on it, the evidence he had dropped in the police station would be opened soon. Police will take 10-15 minutes to reach his evidence and a few more minutes for Judge’s arrest warrant to process.

10:30 am he would be walking out of his own home in cuffs.

He had no other choice. The only consolation for him was he won’t be the only one walking out of his home in cuffs. Chanakya had made sure that when he falls his competitors would also be falling down. The evidence would implicate Swami as well. This will make sure after the arrests, there would no rival families lunging for one another’s throats.

No turf wars. No war on the streets. Not until their sons grow up, which was still 10 years away.

10 years of peace.

Chanakya tried to squash the tiny shimmer of hope burning in his home. The Police had enough evidence to arrest him, he had given them evidence to arrest Swami. Why would his heart still think that the police spare him?

Because of the 10 million I dropped off at the inspector’s house.

It was hopeless though, the inspector’s reputation preceded him. Truthful and idealistic. He would use the money to implicate Chanakya even further.

He stopped eating, the last two pieces of the omelet looked unappetizing now. They looked dry. He was no longer hungry.

His breathing rate was rising, heart was beating faster.

Everything has ended.

He put his head down on the table and started crying.


 

An hour later he watched Police arrest Swami on the news. Not so ideal now inspector.

He is shining bright, but he won’t be burning out today.

 


 

Thank you for reading!

Daily Prompt: Infinite (Fiction)


‘Do you know that the hummingbird’s wings make the infinite sign while flapping? No? It is one of the lines from that movie where the guy aged in reverse. Wonderful movie, a little slow for my pace though.’

Adil nodded. He knew that movie ‘Curious Case of Benjamin Button’. He had seen it a couple of times with some of his friends. He looked up at the speaker, his uncle was walking him to some place he did not know where.

His uncle would probably buy him some chocolates which suited him just fine. His uncle was one of the best guys he knew, he secretly aspired to grow just like his uncle. He bought a blue checkered flannel shirt and black jeans which looked similar to the one his uncle was wearing.

His uncle loved flannel. He already knew that his uncle owned no T-shirt, all he had was flannel. Many of Adil’s friends said that flannel is worn by old men who had no sense of fashion, their opinion would be seriously challenged when they met his uncle.

Adil’s mother once told him a school story of his uncle. She said that even then his uncle knew how to flaunt a flannel shirt, way back then when everyone wore flannel shirts. She said all of her friends secretly adored his uncle.

The story was another reason why he wanted to rock those flannels too.

His uncle was still saying something but he was too busy fantasying about his future and the flannel shirts. He felt a hand on his hand and he looked up. His uncle had a frown on his face as he asked Adil what happened.

‘Nothing. Nothing I was just thinking, thinking about the hummingbird.’ he answered.

‘What hummingbird?’ his uncle asked bemused.

‘The one you told me about.’

‘I was not talking about any hummingbird.’

Now both of them were confused. Adil was wondering why was his uncle lying. He was also wondering about the chocolates.

‘It is okay.’ his uncle answered, shrugging off. Adil had a peculiarity of mentally wandering off. Nowadays, that peculiarity has been enhanced ever since the surgery. A huge trauma to the head can have effects, doctors had said. Adil was still conscious, talking and sometimes walking. Another difficulty for Adil was remembering relationships. Hence, Adil called his father sometimes his uncle.

It was a small mercy that his son still knew him. It is a big mercy that his son was still alive. He will learn to cope with his son’s almost limitless mental wanderings.

‘Uncle?’ Adil looked up at his father, breaking his father’s heart ‘Where are we going?’

‘Going?’ his father was confused again. But he would play his son’s game again ‘We can go where you want to. The only thing stopping you is your brain and once it is open, the possibilities are infinite!’


 

Thank you for reading. This was fun to write and feel free to tell me what you liked and what you didn’t!

 

Fiction: At the races


Chris sat at the stall, waiting for Selena to show up. The race was about to start and she was nowhere to be seen, it was her idea to spend the Sunday on a racetrack. They arrived at the scene together but then she said she needed to use the loo. Now, half hour later, the horses were all lined up and it has to be only a couple of minutes before the whistle is blown and the race starts.

The excitement of the race was enough for Chris to forget about Selena, even if he didn’t want to. Selena had warned him that races are addictive and from the moment they are lined up, the adrenaline high he felt was indescribable. Chris could no longer disagree with it, he was skeptical about it at first. All around him he could see people cheering on, screaming for the race to start. Some were already a little tipsy, after all the bar was open for significant time. Now, the bets have all been made and the bookies are all waiting for the results to be out. Many people will leave the race with money enough to party all night long in London and others will go home, get drunk and curse their misfortune.

For Chris, caution and self control was the key. Before the excitement had surged, he had already made modest bets on horse number 7. Because of this, he wasn’t worried about losing a lot of money, neither was he anticipating good profits. The bets were more of ‘When in Rome, do it like the Romans do’ kind of an act. However, now he had to control his impulses to just go and make a few bets.

Where is Selena? he thought. His heart was pumping and he could feel sweat budding on his forehead. He used his napkin to wipe the sweat but there was nothing more he could do for his heart. Except drink more ale.

As he took a sip, the whistle was blown and Selena was nowhere to be seen.


 

Selena threw her knife at the copper’s chest and it him right in the middle. She didn’t stop to check whether or not he was dead, she just rolled over to be away from the other coppers’ line of fire. This was a disaster, she thought as she exhaled a mouthful of air.

Chris would not have ever guessed why she wanted to come for the races. Now, her elaborate plan had been shattered to pieces and all she could think of is his safety. What has happened to her?

A shot was fired and it hit the wooden panel to the left of her head. She whipped her head around to see more coppers coming in the tent, one of them with an automatic weapon.

Damn! she cursed her stupidity. The henchmen now know who she is and also would find out who she came here with. There is no going back to anonymity after what has happened here and they will keep hunting her. Screw it, she thought as she tore away the bulky dress and freed her legs for more agility. Underneath the dress she had an arsenal of weapons: knives, shooting stars and one revolver. The revolver was for desperate measures only as it had only 6 shots and she didn’t bring in a lot of bullets.

She glanced back from the hole in the panel and counted. 10, 11… 12 coppers she could see out there. This was not going to be easy but she has done this kind of thing before too. If all goes well, then she should be able to escape with a couple of broken ribs and maybe one gunshot wound. If all goes well..

No time to waste now, she thought as she grabbed a couple of throwing knives, removed her heels and held them both in different hands. The knives were the main weapons, heels were for close combat.

She brought mayhem to the tent as she threw her knife at the pole holding the structure and the canvas barred her opponents vision.


 

The chorus of men, women screaming as soon as the whistle blew was deafening. Chris was jolted and he added his voice to the crowd, swept along with the flow.

He could see the horses running fast and faster, already covered up a quarter of the track within seconds. His number 7 was not in the lead but he could hear someone screaming ‘Yes’ for the lead horse, number 9.

Chris had an growing urge to just hit the guy whose horse was in the lead. He turned around to see who it was and saw and elderly man with binoculars to his eyes. The elderly man had not noticed Chris yet but Chris noticed the man’s companion.

Clearly 30 years younger than him, the companion was someone Chris had seen a while ago. He remembered going to a party along with Selena and the girl was either the hostess of the party or another guest. He had never seen the elderly man before.

The girl was an anomaly in the crowd. While everyone else was screaming their lungs out over the horses, the girl sat mute and composed. She noticed his attention and he quickly looked away.

Looking at the girl made him realize that Selena was not here yet and she was still missing out on the race. It was her idea damn it!


 

4 dead and 8 more to go. As soon as the canvas had fallen down, Selena moved with the grace that would have made snakes piss. Within seconds she had slashed three coppers’ throats and had stabbed the fourth. However, the time spent on killing the four was enough for the other’s to come within sight of her. One of them opened fire and he felt a stab of pain in her left calf.

From experience, she knew what a gunshot wound felt like. This pain that she felt was nothing close to that pain meaning that the shooter had missed. Well, she will not miss. She turned in a circle and aimed, used her momentum and drove her knife at the copper’s head. She was moving before he dropped to the ground.

Two more in front of her and she had no knives in her hand anymore. She had heels nonetheless and it was time that men knew how much heels hurt. With her right hand she hit the copper’s gun away and her left hand uppercut the other with the heel. There was a spray of blood on her face but she didn’t stop. She brought in her left towards the head of the copper and the right towards the stomach. He dodged her left but her right lodged in his stomach. She left her heel in his stomach and moved on, leaving him to his slow agonizing death.

No more knives but she still had the gun and there were only 6 left. There were also some other guns lying around and now she picked them up. Halfway through with this, she was struggling to believe that there hardly any damage to her when the automatic opened fire.

Something like a truck hit her shoulder and she fell to the ground by the force. She lost the gun from her hand but it was still within reach. She could see she was surrounded and the automatic gunman was still active.

Well, it was a long shot anyway.


 

The race finished and Chris had never been this high. He had not won his bet but he still had an amazing experience. The elderly man was more excited as he had just won the bet.

The girl had finally moved and now was standing just above him. She whispered, ‘We always win’ just as she stabbed him in the back.


Inspiration: Peaky Blinders Season 2 Episode 6

Fiction: Waiting for a Train


‘He will be here, his letter said so.’ Maduram said. Sindhu, the station master observed Maduram sceptically. Madhuram was old, looked frail, he should not be out on a cold night without any warm clothes. His threadbare kurti and lungi could scarcely provide warmth, his shawl looked older than Madhuram. Regardless Maduram was here waiting for an rich American traveler. Sindhu was afraid that this was a case of delirium, old people do have a tendency to go a little nuts.

Sindhu knew Madhuram, they have spoken before and he was also aware of why everyone in the village were so found of Madhuram. Sindhu, a born cynic and skeptic trusted Madhuram! Sindhu had been the station master for 15 long and hot years. He had seen travelers coming to the village to visit the iconic Kali Mandir, he had witnessed teary goodbyes from mothers to their sons as they left for Mumbai, the city of dreams. In 15 years multitude things changed, a few didn’t. The tea stall outside the station still made disgusting tea, it had more water than milk. The wages Sindhu received still hadn’t changed much, while the town grew his salary crawled. Lastly, Madhuram was always outside the station greeting customers as if a mother greets her sons. No wonder people who returned always asked for Madhuram.

Madhuram was older than 70, he looked 80 years old. His teeth have started to fall off and whenever he smiled now, Sindhu was terrified a little. But as Madhuram spoke, the apprehension vanished and a familiar sense of comfort replaced it. Over the years, Madhuram never stopped driving around his rickshaw. There were better rickshaws available in the market but Madhuram never sold his old vehicle. Sindhu never asked why, he still had his first bicycle.

It hurt Sindhu, for he was looking at someone who was as close as a friend, start slowly loose his mind. Sindhu knew nothing about Madhuram’s family and he couldn’t leave Madhuram alone on the station like this. So he just sat there and listened to Madhuram talk about his English friend. Other rickshaw drivers conned travelers but Sindhu opened his heart to them. Maduram had the heart & wealth of a saint. He would never con, he would never bicker with anyone. He has been like that, as far as Sindhu can tell, he would die with a heart that doesn’t belong in this world. The least Sindhu could do was to listen as one of the best people he knew prattle.

 


 

25 years ago, Maduram saw a firangi (foreigner) depart the train. Every rickshaw driver knew that this meant dollars. Luckily for him that day, he was the only rickshaw driver. Pankaj had gone off for lunch and so Maduram approached the firangi. Madhuram knew that the firangi was lost, frustrated and a little angry just by looking at him. Madhuram did something that he hardly ever did: he smiled and greeted the firangi. The tension evaporated from firangi’s stature and he said “Maandir?”

Firangi trying to speak hindi was hilarious incident for Madhuram.  He drove the firangi, who said his name was Peter, to the temple of Kali. One the way they both spoke, Madhuram slowly reminiscing his time in Mumbai. He had learned some English when he was in Mumbai, when he was young and stupid. So they spoke in broken languages of one another and somehow the two wrongs made right and a bond was born, stronger than anything Madhuram had ever known before. The entire day Madhuram drove Peter around, first to the temple, then to the river where all the village wives washed clothes and then to the old film set where Amitabh Bachan had shot his first movie. All of the places had no tourists, they were all places where Madhuram had spent his youth in; where he had decided that it was time he became something like Amitabh himself.

As night fell, Madhuram invited Peter to their home. Peter accepted and as they reached home, Peter was shocked and Madhuram abashed. The ‘home’ of Madhuram’s family was nothing more than a small shed where he lived with his wife and son. But Madhuram didn’t relent and treated Peter more like a brother than a guest. Peter was an Englishman visiting India as he wanted to experience what his ancestors did. Peter wanted to know what made his grandfather love this country so much. Peter also said that his experience so far had contradicted everything his grandfather had told him.

Madhuram however, was excited and apprehensive at the same time. He had met some firangi when he was a young man, living in Mumbai with wide eyed dreams of making it to the big screen just like Amitabh Bachan or Dharmender. He never could become great, and he was too straight for the crooked lifestyle. Everyone in the village kept asking him about the life in Mumbai and he narrated the story. However his story made more naive youngsters leave the village chasing the same dreams.

Peter enjoyed the tour around the places in the village. He was comfortable in the tiny abode of Madhuram’s. Madhuram’s wife Sita blushed whenever Madhuram complimented her food. His son, Dhanu kept looking at Peter as if he was alien, got a scolding from Madhuram as soon as he noticed. It was astonishing for Peter to see how such a family of three can live in a small house, but nevertheless the hospitality offered was better than the best hotel. The food was another paradise perfectly crafted in a small ceramic plate, which was different from the metal plates the family ate in. Sita didn’t speak at all, she couldn’t speak English. Dhanu knew English than Madhuram and Madhuram was proud.

‘I learnt English Bombay, I learn English Dhanu’ Madhuram proudly stated.

Peter laughed at the statement, a simple statement that had was medley of pride, joy and sorrow rolled in one. He was taken back by the emotions packed. The family was in itself complete regardless of the materialistic lacking. They kept asking Peter to stay in their house even before the dinner was done. Peter never said yes but they insisted and Dhanu ran outside to fetch a better mattress. Madhuram had not yet even taken fare from Peter.

 


 

Postal addresses were exchanged before Peter departed. Sita and Dhanu stayed back home while Madhuram drove Peter to the station. Madhuram refused Peter’s money.

‘Money from bhai?’ Madhuram asked refusing Peters’ insistence.

Peter never knew what bhai meant, but the word stayed with him. A month after Peter left, Dhanu came home gleefully. Turns out there was a letter in Madhuram’s name at the post office near the school. Madhuram couldn’t read the letter but Dhanu could. Somehow, Peter had tracked a person in London who could write in Hindi as well and there was a two paged letter, one in English and other in Hindi. Peter mentioned his family, his grandfather and his girlfriend. Madhuram didn’t know what girlfriend meant but Dhanu grinned embarrassingly.

The letter was signed off with ‘Bhai, Peter’.

Over the months that followed Dhanu kept coming home with similar letters and he kept sending more letters out of the country. Madhuram spent a days’ wages on the letters and eventually he didn’t need Dhanu to read the letters. 3 years passed this way but suddenly the letters stopped. Madhuram got worried as he knew that on 20th of every month a letter would arrive. It was 30th and still no letter. He went to the post office daily to check but still no letter. He sent more letters asking what had happened but no reply. Years passed and Dhanu went to the city for study. Sita got pregnant but she couldn’t survive childbirth and the girl was stillborn. While Dhanu tried to make his studies and a grieving father priorities, Madhuram sent him back to the city to complete his studies. Madhuram grew distant, and he sent another letter to a bhai across the globe. No reply.

He never invited anyone to his home anymore, he had no home other than a shed. He treated everyone the same way he treated Peter and showed them all the temples, the rivers and the film locations. Some were happy, most were annoyed. Most just thought he was cheating them for more fare. His son was gone, making money and name for himself, Madhuram was proud of him, but he hardly got time to visit his village anymore. Madhuram wrote another letter.

One day Dhanu came home unexpectedly and he had a letter with him.

 


 

Sindhu couldn’t believe it. Friends, one English and the other an ordinary rickshaw driver. They didn’t share a language, they didn’t share any cultural background but they shared bond stronger than any he had ever known. Sindhu’s father had mentioned Madhuram, he had said Madhuram is one of the very souls which could imbue loyalty from a thief. Sindhu however was never aware of the hardships Madhuram had suffered. It is one thing to hear about someone’s loss. It is even more devastating to listen to the person narrate his loss.

The train horned distantly and Sindhu looked away from Madhuram, conscious that tears might fall. He knew he would be at the station when the two friends reunited. He hoped he would be strong enough to witness it. Moreover he hoped that Peter actually shows up.

When the train finally stopped, Madhuram bolted upright, his moderately strong vision scanning the crowd in light of a few bulbs. Sindhu scanned the crowd as well, how hard can it be to spot one white among so many colors. He spotted an old white man soon enough and directed Madhuram towards him.

Peter looked worse than Madhuram, there was some problem with him. Sindhu almost flinched when he saw Peter, he resembled a leper. But Madhuram, he was overjoyed. Tears rushing from his eyes as waterfalls and ran to embrace his friend. It was out worldly to witness this, an ordinary old man hugging a diseased white man.

Sindhu, for the first time in years cried seeing them. The onlookers were damned, he knew he was changed forever. Madhuram tried to speak but his throat was rocked with sobs, his old body shivering. Peter, he never knew he could ever know peace like this ever again, especially when he knew he had only weeks to live.

 


 

The story was inspired by Pico Iyer’s personal essay I had read in ‘Burn This Book’. Short story plucked all the heartstrings.

Fiction: Characters in Bookworld?


Credits: Buzzfeed Books, FB

 

(I saw this on Facebook and I had to write on this!)

John could see the train coming in the tunnel, the beacon becoming brighter. Newmarket train Station in Auckland was extremely crowded. Considering the station had every line passing through it, it meant it was as important as Britomart Transport Centre. However, John had this stinking feeling that he had been here before even though he had never.

He had seen the train on different stations before too, he could guess he had seen the train driver before. The station masters in their yellow high visibility jacket were standing at the yellow line of the platform to ensure that no one crosses it as the train was almost at the station, a few seconds away. The girl next to him was playing Candy Crush on her iPhone, and his feeling intensified. He had seen that girl before, he just couldn’t recall when. He frowned, trying to remember when had he seen a scene which was so similar, the train light shining down the tunnel, the girl and the people. The loudspeakers boomed saying “Train for Swanson is arriving on platform 1, please stand behind the yellow line”

The wind blew across the station and someone lose their purple scarf. That purple scarf, he thought as it kept flowing and slammed into his face. He knew now, all of this had happened before. He had been here on the station before, seen the Candy Crush playing girl before right here and that scarf had hit him in his face before. Everything had happened before, only it really hadn’t. How? Why?

The train whoozed past him, slowing down and stopped, the door right in front of him. People pressed the green button to open the doors. He just stood there, the purple scarf had tied itself to his neck now and there was someone in his periphery. Another girl, no not a girl this time but an old woman. He realised that the scarf belonged to the woman and he apologised. Untying the scarf he handed it to her and smiled, the old woman smiled back. This was new. He could recollect some of the things which had happened last time. But last time? It was his first time here on the station wasn’t it?

He was no longer sure. He was sure that the previously he entered the train. After that what happened he was not sure. He had an interview to get to but he was too lost in his thoughts. The Candy Crush girl stood near the now opened door, the old woman was making her way to the reserved seats. He knew he had got in the train the last time.

This time, he didn’t want to. So he didn’t and slowly the train doors closed with a beeping sound signalling closing doors. He had just wasted his ticket but he didn’t care. He had a strange feeling that this was bigger than any other job waiting for him.

He knew that his story was written differently. Now it has started fresh.

Blogger Interview

Guest Blogger #2: ‘Stressed Mess’ Interview


After I published my call for guest bloggers, Ms StressedMess here is one of the few to show any interest in this

Thank you! So here is her small interview & you should totally check out her blog, ‘Of Silver Linings And Stormy Nights‘ she is although new at her blog, she has a talent for writing fiction that blows you away and a visit or a follow to her blog is definitely worth it. Her fictional post series ‘Let the Masks fall away‘ are what made me follow her!


 

1. Who are you?

I am a 19 year old student from Mumbai. I come from a family of writers so writing is something that comes naturally to me. Its both a stress buster and my favorite way to pass my time. 

2. Why do you write?

I LOVE TO READ. I read everything from the generic teenage romantic novels to sci fi to books about deranged criminals. Just give me a book and i am a happy girl

3. Lastly any tips for bloggers(myself included) on how to improve writing?

I think the more you write the better you get.Also, It is always good to have a few people who will read what you write and give you an honest opinion on it. 


Like I promised, a short interview!

Her Guest Blog post(fiction) will be published on Monday night so do come back here to check it out.

Thank You for the support.

PS: I am still open for more guest bloggers and I encourage more to come. If interested then contact me on: itsmayurremember@gmail.com

King, fiction

Literary Lion: King


(Liberty Lion: King. Weekly Prompt by Laura Feasey.)

 

‘Who is this King of Browning street? ’ Hector exploded into the nearest constable.

Hector had recently been very angry. A lot of times. His anger issues stemmed from his childhood, from his mother abandoning him but somewhere in life he got it under control. For his job required him to be cold and distant and logical, angry cops make mistakes. Angry cops lose cases because of their recklessness. Angry cops make enemies.

So he got into the program, worked his issues and became a role model. Till this case.

What started out as a normal homicide in an alley had turned into a serial killing. If that news was bad enough,  the victims were all serial molesters. Hecklers and troublemakers for woman. And someone was killing them.

The second onwards all the victims had a card on their hands: A King. Of any category, they always had King cards. So the media named the killer The King of Browning Street.

The constable was embarrassed by the public humiliation delivered to him. This was the tenth crime scene and the King card was now nailed to the victim’s head. And with the media and the political pressure mounting,  Hector had began to crack. The crime scene was the same: A single gsw to the chest,  post mortem positioning of the body so that the hands covered their genitals and their jaws opened. No evidence and no witnesses.

Anyways no one would probably come forward,  everyone wanted the troublemakers out of their streets. And the thugs were too egotistical to let cops handle this for them.

Hector had an interview this afternoon, but because of the new homicide he rescheduled it. He tried to remember who the reporter was but he kept forgetting her name.

A constable let a female in the yellow tape and immediately he regretted it. Hector went raging at him to not let pedestrians in and how he would have the constable suspended for this when the female showed her press ID.

‘Hello Mr Hector. Since you were too busy I thought I’ll get my interview on the road. I can assure you I will be of no hindrance and I won’t utter a word till you are done with investigating the scene.’ She had lovely eyes. And a face that reminded him of his high school girlfriend. What was her name? Karen yes Karen.

His anger suddenly vanished he nodded but asked her that no photographs or recordings be done else he would land him in trouble.

After a while he asked her name though he never heard her last name,  else he would have shown a different reaction then.

‘Karen. Karen King. ’

#30 Breath Fire (part 10)


Continued, check part 9

Fiction:

When Forster was born, realm was prospering. The combined efforts of humans and draconian strength had made economy boom.

Trade routes were established with Maximus existing captured regions. The burned lands were largely fertile and used for agriculture.

Reaves turned out to be a great King. The hostilities between humans and dragons still exist but is subdued.

His father Garge and mother Tamara were famous and examples of perfect Harmony between humans and dragons.

Dragons grew to be stronger than before. Reaves grew proud to have brought the dragons back to their esteemed glory.

And as this glory spread, people from all over the world looked to have an army of dragons at their disposal.

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#29 Breath Fire (Part 9)


Continued, check part 8

Fiction:

Every other dragon saw that. The King momentary burst of anger had betrayed him. Reaves called Garge back.

‘You got him to declare his position to us. Now you need to make him expose himself to his men.’ Deacon provided.

Wise man had not asked about just disclosed terms of this bout. Reaves looked at Garge and nodded. They knew their future and their race depended on Garge. Just like his father, Reaves knew the best person to have Icebreaker was Garge. Now is the time to use it best.

Garge unscathed his sword. In front of him, King did the same. The humans were making a circle and one man read out rules of this engagement.

‘Rules? Do we need them? Its simple: I just have to kill you.’ Garge poked. ‘And I believe I still don’t know your name’

‘My name is Maximus. And you think this is my first championship? I have killed bigger and better men with less efforts than taking a piss. You will also be easy.’

This time loudly Garge said ‘You could kill other humans. But I’m a dragon. I could kill bigger and stronger men with ease because I’m faster and stronger.’

Maximus realised the strategy now. Garge wanted to expose him. After he did that the army would loose its mantle and it would easy to watch the cards topple.

Both warriors looked at each other for two seconds. This is it. Their swords in their hands and their supporters at their backs. Garge smiled. Maximus growled. And they attacked.

One of them was the best of their land, other had years of experience. And both were inhumanly fast.

In two seconds, almost thirty clashes were heard. Their swords were no longer visible, their arms showing bulging tendons and muscles. And they not walked but floated on the sand. Both of them used their toes to move quickly and effortlessly. One misstep and their heads would be rolling and a war would end.

Reaves knew Garge was fast. Just how fast he knows now. And Maximus, if it wasn’t for him trying to kill everyone he would be marvelous indeed. At least thirty years older than Garge he still was on the offense, even making Garge sweat.

This would be close!

They both retracted after three minutes. Their hands were chaffed and breaths louder than wind. Both looked in ecstasy. Wesley shouted encouragement. This was like a dream come true for him. A clash of swords on which the entire future resided on.

‘You are way better than I anticipated.’Maximus admitted.

‘You are not bad for an old man.’ Garge retorted ‘It is a shame that your daughter can see you know. She said you are so slow that you couldn’t even catch as she escaped when she walked past you!’

Maximus growled louder this time. His human strength had depleted and now he was tapping on draconian strength. But Garge had practiced all his life, his endurance was still not crossed.

Garge thrust the sword in the sand and started to remove his armor. And when all he wore was his trousers he picked up his sword again. Armor would slow him down. And this would be long fight.

Maximus didn’t do the same. All he saw was an opening. Garge was bare chested and exposed in front. Just a few cuts would slow him down.

And Garge would let him have a few cuts.

When they both moved again, Garge was way faster. He got inside Maximus’s guard and delivered some big cuts and retreated quickly. The armor protected him but a long gash was bleeding from the left.

Maximus looked angry now, angry enough to start tearing him limb from limb. Just a bit more and then he would have to turn. Garge had to make sure he doesn’t turn before Maximus.

They engaged again. This time they locked swords and Maximus’ breath full blasted on Garge face. He was smiling ‘You intend to make me turn so my army goes against me. That won’t happen cause you don’t know what I can do.’ And with a new fire he added ‘And my hatred for my kin!’

As sudden as a snake bit, Garge sword lodged inside his opponent’s neck. Maximus looked happy.

The dead body dropped to the ground. Wind seemed to be howling.

And then the enemy retreated. And from the armies horns blared. Horns for march and war.

‘He made sure that if he doesn’t win the armies still attack. And with half of their strengths they could still kill all of us.’ Wesley said. He looked ready for a turn.

Deacon meanwhile was telling a messenger to turn and bring reinforcements. Reaves and Garge met eyes, they knew the army was already reeling and almost broken. If they witness the same massacre of the sea then they will break. And war would be over.

The army was coming on horse backs, cavalry quickly closing the gap. But dragons were faster and in a minute the entire legion arrived of 100 turned dragons. All ready for war.

And they melted the earth. None of the dragons took flight. They just opened fire. Horse, men, metal all burned and then their bones melted. Such concentrated firestorm soon boiled the water and land turned brown. Dragons in tens made sure that no land was solid enough to walk.

And for miles heat scorched all metal to the skins of armies. Blisters were born on army’s skins, their sweats evaporated the second they came out.

Enemy fled, screaming in agony to remove their armor and metal. Scorpions were useless as their arrows were catching flames and burning to ashes.

That heat would keep the land impassable for at least a day. And with broken army the chance of them attacking again wasn’t possible.

The war was over.

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#28 Breath Fire (Part 8)


Continued, check part 7

Fiction:

‘What now Reaves?’

‘You tell me. I have an army sitting on my arose ready to go for my throat. And my hundred warriors are ready to kill your would be wife if they get the chance. This has to be resolved as quickly as possible. Otherwise we are dead.’

This was the real Reaves. Humble and straight. Not a prince or a King.

‘I never thought this…’

‘I know Garge. There is more than one court member who would ask for your head after this. But I have your back. I just need to know whether you are ready for the onslaught or not.’

‘I want the father’s head. That bastard comes to my land to kill my people. I would skin him and burn him. He is a monster. And he wants to kill my… Child too!’

Sudden fury blazed in his eyes. He wanted to turn now and smoke everything around him. But he knew better than that. He got his anger under control and awaited the turn to kill.

‘No one knows what happened at the island. But now if you approach to talk, then the entire army will know. The army would prefer going back to their lives. They want an end to this pointless regime. My father would not allow that.’ Tamara said.

‘Champion!’ Both Reaves and Garge said together.

That meant Garge doing what he does best. Swinging his sword.

Reaves spoke a bit more while Tamara came near to Garge. Eventually they were left alone.

‘Reaves has a temper. And you insulted him in his court by instating your law and..’

‘I know. I forgot my place. I’m a prisoner here. It is a mercy that I’m still alive, for which I should be grateful to your King.’ She stopped and added ‘and to you.’

Garge looked in askance at her. She continued

‘My father had dispatched those wolves. Before you I hated my life. I ran and he sent wolves after me. You gave me a reason to live. After he coerced out of me your existence, I found out I was pregnant. Another reason to live. As soon as we landed I escaped and arrived here.’

‘I had to attack those ships. Otherwise we would be facing a siege now instead of a reeling army. If I had hurt you in those ships then..’ He couldn’t say more.

He knew after they survived he would gladly marry her. Not because it was a law for her, but because he could feel a stirring for her. And he wanted to survive the war.

For one fleeting second he thought of taking her and fleeing the land. No one would know or could follow. But he dismissed it. He had to save his kin.

‘So who is your father’s champion?’

‘He fights himself.’

Next morning a messenger was dispatched with a white flag. To have a champion fight instead of the armies. The enemy agreed on the condition that after dragons lose, all dragons would have to come to their own deaths.

Other than Reaves and Garge no one knew those terms.

A party of twenty arrived midway from enemy. Ten dragons including Reaves and Garge reached midway too.

Garge had spent the night with Tamara. And now he intended to make sure he gets to do it again. Enemy’s champion was not hard to find. He stood 7 feet tall and strong enough to kill men with his bare hands. And the sword he carried was another broadsword on his back, at least four feet in length.

‘We have Tamara and if we are cheated then she won’t make past the hour.’ King Reaves declared. This was the King alright. The same arrogant, conceited king.

‘Huh’ the tall men spoke. ‘If you know my daughter then you know I would not mind her death. By my hands or yours. Its you dragons who I want dead.’

Tamara’s father got down from his horse and came forward. He stood two feet in front of Garge and spoke again ‘You who laid with my daughter, by the hour is done I will taste your blood. Then your entire race would be plunged off.’

He snorted loudly. And there was smoke in his breath. His eyes changed color and his skin briefly changed to purple.

Garge gasped. This cannot be! His opponent, King of human armies ready to kill all dragons was…

A DRAGON!

Thanks For Reading
Itsmayurremember

#27 Breath Fire(Part 7)


Continued, check part 6

Fiction:

It was a crowd gathered in the great hall. Each and every dragon had assembled to have the humans blood. And the humans smelled of fear. Everyone except Tamara, who should be scared considering she was pregnant.

Oh man, Garge thought. If that child is mine,..

The entire court thought so. And whatever respect he had once possessed was gone. Everyone had come to know why the humans had invaded. Even that small piece of knowledge which was exclusive among his friends spread like fire. Like fire, that’s ironic Garge thought hysterically.

Tamara looked better. She was fraught with life one could say. Lips pink, face flush with rich blood and hair that when opened reached her hips. Beautiful hair.

With an effort he looked away from her and tried to think like he was meant to. The daughter of the King was here, she was their hostage. With her as leverage the incoming war could be put in stalemate.

But, why was she here? Was she here on behalf of her father? Or she had some other ulterior motive.

Eventually, the crowd got bored. They were anxious to know the same answers and when she spoke, the crowd were dumbed into silence.

‘Garge is the father of the child I carry.’

No one could speak, even if they found their voices they would not know what to say. And Garge was in the worst possible position ever. Not only his actions had caused a war, he had also coupled and fathered a half human half dragon.

‘My family’s customs are simple. He will have to marry me and father this indomitable child. It is law’ Tamara continued.

Reaves finally found his voice ‘Don’t preach me law you whore! You who laid your legs bare to the first male you could find, only he was not even your species. I would not be surprised to find you giving birth to a horse son one day!’

Tamara was shocked. Garge quickly got his wits under his control and murmured Reaves to control. Reaves, with a visible effort continued ‘I am sorry for that, it was not how I should talk to a woman. But if we do believed you and understand that the child is Garge’s then I could not gather what would you have us done? You want to coerce him into marriage, it is fair practice but futile as we are almost on the brink of extinction with your father’s armies on the coast ready to slaughter us. So what would you have us do?’

Tamara looked close to tears, and Garge suddenly recalled that night when he laid with her. It had something to do with watching her cry after the wolves have fled, after she was safe in Garge’s arms. She had cried for hours then and every tear she shed was a knife in Garge’s chest.

Apparently the entire hall felt the same way. More than one person looked ready to run to comfort her. Reaves felt the same way. She spoke again trembling ‘He would eventually kill me. And our child. Right after child was born he swore he would take the cord and use it to choke our child. And after the child has stopped breathing he would feed me his entrails and kill me. Those were his words. He doesn’t care for any of his children, neither me nor his elder son, the one who you killed on the island. He would kill us all of could just so he could exterminate all dragons.’

Now everyone was angry. Tamara had to be defended, everyone would agree on that. But what of Garge, that decision was pending. And he didn’t have a lot of hopes. So while they spoke on he quietly escaped the court and went to the terrace.

He loved the night sky. Thousands upon thousands of stars. So many that numbers would not suffice to count them. But doesn’t like them when he turned into dragon. Dragon eyes couldn’t appreciate that beauty. Only human eyes could.

Today the stars looked dimmer. He heard movement behind him and found Reaves with him. And a little behind Tamara. They were alone up on the terrace.

Reaves visage had none of the usual arrogance and looked somber. The guy next to him was his childhood friend, his only friend in a realm of nearly extinct race.

They needed to decide their next move. And about Tamara.

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#26 Breath Fire(Part 6)


Continued, check part 5

Fiction:

Aftermath of the fire match was worse than anticipated. Those soldiers who made into the shore in the first wave were gasping for air, smoke had lodged deep in their lungs. With some minor wounds and burns that were ignored in a desperate attempt to stay alive, they quickly began screaming in pain.

One of the ships carrying many doctors was burned in entirety. So now doctors were severely overburdened. Then came those who were had severe burns and injuries. They were found floating in the ocean, they pain had made them unconscious. Most of them were drifting out of consciousness. And the hospital camp was so full of them, their dreams consisting of fire and smoke. More than one of them woke up and quickly panicked seeing the candle flames. Controlling them was harder as where ever they had skin they had been burnt. One of the soldier was so badly burnt that he was unidentifiable. It was a surprise that he was alive.

Small rowboats were out in the ocean, trying to find more survivers. At least half of the King’s army was in the hospital screaming curses at those fire breathing reptiles.

King Prius had almost lost this war. All because of the stunt of his smaller brother on the island. Meeting the parley was a futile gesture, King knew but his brother along with two archers had went nonetheless. His headless corpse was found later.

But the King hadn’t lost all sense, at least the new General Turin hadn’t. As soon as they landed, trenches were dug in. Scorpions and crossbows were setup. Guard was put up, from those who could keep guard. Turin himself was a mess. His face was burned and though in agony he continued giving orders and leading the army.

Turin’s ships was one of the last one to be attacked. By that colossal black dragon, who flees because it suffered wounds in that ship. Someone named Davis had attacked. Davis now lay on a bed, his face marred up that he had difficulty eating or breathing. He wouldn’t last.

But the dragons had suffered too. Two carcasses were drifting in the ocean. A white dragon, and dark blue. Both had three or more shards of wood lodged in their bodies.

The dragons would pay soon King Prius knew.

Back in the dragon’s land, two men’s passing was mourned. Their widows were furious, ready to be the in the first wave of offense. Their children though never flew before were also greedy to have some human blood.

And Garge was recovering. Though his scales were impenetrable, if attacked then the wound surfaced after he turned back to human form. Along with the raw agony.
That’s why he fled. If his wounds surpassed normal human form he would die. Dragons aren’t invincible. And this was the main reason of death.

He was woke by noise of talking. He looked up to find all the powerful in his room. Reaves and Wesley and Deacon.

‘What’s the enemies losses?’ He managed to croak.

Reaves looked at him sharply, his eyes like knives. Wesley spoke ‘The attack was hugely successful. Their dead are burned as we speak. The entire coast is full of burning pyres. As if your charge left any skin left to burn.’ He grinned, bastard was enjoying this.

But Garge detected fear underneath. He looked at Deacon and knew directly.

The enemy was wounded. But it was in no way enough to cripple them, not enough to make them turn around. And he was one who ordered the two brave soldiers to their grave.

He began thinking of the girl who he rescued in the jungle so long ago. Who thanked his help by spending the weekend with him. If only he knew that would the cause of this, he would never have helped her.

Who was he kidding? He knew he would helped her nonetheless. What was her name? Ah, Tamara.

He looked back his childhood friend Reaves and realised that he longed to ask about that instance. That how his rescue would cause their imminent annihilation.

A soldier walked in. Garge recognized the soldier. He was the white dragon, Quentin’s younger brother. He looked ragged but angry.

‘Majesty?’ He asked ‘There are some humans caught trying to sneak in. Their leader pleaded me to find you. She said her name was Tamara.’

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#25 Breath Fire (part 5)


Continued, check part 4:

Fiction:

Sargent Davis hated sea voyage. He always got seasick. Only good thing he could see was there was the land right in front of him. A few minutes more and they will be ashore.

And then Davis could pacify his revolting guts. Who cares what they are hunting? Kings make wars then make soldiers like him march. This will be always the rule.

Now they are facing dragons. Tomorrow they may face Krakens or something worse right out of hell. The trick was to keep head low, be aware and listen to instincts. His instincts always protected him.

And now he sensed something was about go real bad. Really really bad.

Davis looked at the captain of the ship, Turin. Turin never liked him, but maybe he will listen to warning. The warship leading was almost ashore, ships soldiers already armored and ready to brawl.

But there was no resistance observed there on the shore. No dragons. No men.

Excellent. But it looked like a trap. And Turin’s face betrayed the same.
Something made a huge splashing sound behind them. And then a howl rang out, loud enough to blow eardrums. A strong hot wind blew, a sound of a gush right behind their shows.

Davis turned and what he saw petrified him. No one had predicted this. A huge black dragon was coming out of the water, water was flowing down from his body like waterfall. He was larger than any other dragon Davis ever saw. And then the dripping dragon breathed fire. He twisted his head from one side to the next, a whole 180 degrees all the while he spat fire.

Sails and hulls caught fire, the heat was enough to cause agonizing burns to those in proximity of fire. In less than a second, more than 7 ships were on fire. And then dragon went under water again.

Davis quickly ducked and tried to go under the ship as soon as he saw the dragon. That helped somewhat. When dragon was back underwater, he glanced around. So many of the ship’s crew which were on broadside were burnt to crisp. None were moving. The captain Turin was moving and Davis saw that Turin’s face was burnt. The moans and cries of the writhing crew was not audible as commotions had started from other ships too. More dragons were coming out of water to burn ships. And because they were quickly inside water no scorpion could be aimed at them.

The rowing crew were still inside, aware of the commotion and probable fighting but rowing forward nonetheless. That was their job. To row.

Davis could not feel any pain, but that might be because he was in adrenaline rush. The pain will come later. Dragons were coming up more quickly than anticipated, burning more and more ships down. He saw a ship to his right being burned to a crisp. The rowers were being burnt inside, like in a furnace. He could see them trying to escape the ship from orifices that held the rows, their bodies being burned while they tried to escape.

This was bad. Almost every ship was burning, many have started to sink. And the saltwater of the ocean will cause agony of another dimensions to the crew.

The land! Just a couple of minutes away. The black dragon appeared again, this time in front of the ship. And instead of spitting fire he flew into the ship. With his tails, he quickly broke the scorpion into pieces. And then he made inferno.

He thrust his head inside the ship, breaking the wooden floor. And he opened fire. Even with so many screams all around them in the different ships, the screams coming from within were distinctive and clear. Hell! What happened on that island?!

Before Davis knew what was happening, he was up his sword in his hand and running towards the dragon. His scream was hoarse with smoke but quickly got others’ attention. Those who could, they lifted their arms and joined him.

He sprang into the creature’s back, scales slippy with water and thrust his sword deep. Or tried to. The scales were so tough the the sword bent. And others also had similar results. But the dragon howled and with a swift flick of his tail catapulted Davis into the sky.

Davis landed somewhere in the rocky part of the shore, face bloody and mangled.

But he was found alive after the inferno was over.

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#24 Breath Fire (Part 4)


Continued, see previous post part 3

Fiction:

Foreigner knew blood will be drawn. But the damn archers behind him were amateurs, they should nor stand behind me. They should move and flank the opponents. From where they stand, their aim was obstructed by foreigner himself.

Garge gave the order to Wesley. He could only hope the archers weren’t smart enough to discover their faulty positions. And before they do, the blood from foreigner would be dry.

Foreigner knew who was the real threat here. The one with the broadsword on his back. He was motionless, staring intently to the three foes. The broadsword couldn’t be swung so fast. The short swords would be the absolute victors here. But by the time they disengaged, if they could survive the armada would be picking up full speed. The island meet was a ruse, captains had orders to wait for ten minutes and then row in full speed.

So he gave an opening.

Garge saw foreigner glancing at the archers. And behind the archers he saw the ships gently rowing. This was a distraction! Now!

He moved like a snake, left hand flashing and throwing a knife at the first archer. No one expects him to carry concealed throwing knives. The knife hit perfectly in the neck of the archer, the other flinching from the attack. His right hand shot up and Icebreaker was out of the scabbard in an eye blink and cutting the air towards the foreigner’s head.

Foreigner moved at the last second, rolling towards the right to avoid the sword. Behind Garge, Wesley threw his throwing axe towards the second archer.

Archer dodged but by the time he recovered, Wesley and Reaves was on him. He didn’t have a chance and was down in a second.

Foreigner saw he was outnumbered. And the one with broadsword was faster than lightening. He knew he would be dead soon.

‘How about that champion?’

Garge smiled and attacked. His broadsword was blocked twice before his feigned swing to the neck came down at the stomach. Icebreaker sliced through skin like butter.

All three were breathing fiercely. The island meet was turned up against them. Invaders weren’t scared and their intent was more dire than previously thought. And to think they are the last settlement of dragons…

That later. Garge picked up command easily and called them to turn. But the problem with the close ship was the scorpion. None of them could be allowed to be injured or worse.

‘We fly close low. And fast’

Garge ran towards the homeland, others close by, following on his heels. He muttered a small spell, and he began transforming.

Turning to dragon the first time was the worst. The skin starts boiling, and with each centimeter of soft skin changing into scales, the pain experienced is almost unbearable. And underneath their bones elongate and wings spring from the back.

After turning so many times, the one second pain was almost bearable. Almost. Three howled in the pains and turned. The running helped pick up speed and they cruised across the ocean.

Garge, huge and black. Reaves on his left, brown. And Wesley on the right, green. They could see their own reflections in the water. No matter how many times they saw that, seeing it again was breathtaking.

As they reached homeland the reverted back to human forms to talk. Garge immediately barked orders at a messenger to assemble ten strong and swift fliers.

‘Mind telling me why he named you?!’ Reaves shouted from behind him.

‘I did meet and rescue a girl’ Garge began ‘but never saw this coming. Would you have seen this outcome?’

‘How stupid are you?’ Wesley began, clearly happy with the mistake, ‘you know how those humans are. Always looking for new things to tame and kill. Now they are here for us.’

Deacon intervened before things got out of hand ‘Can we burn them over the sea?’

When no answer came forth he understood. But quickly realised Garge’s orders were to the very contrary.

‘What are you thinking of doing Garge?’

‘I am going to give you a window here. They have picked up speed. They will be here before the hour’s out. I am going to halt their progress for a while, trying to make sure I take as many of them I can.’

The bastards had protected themselves against the sky. But they forgot the waters.

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#23 Breath Fire (Part 3)


Continuation, check previous post, part 2

Fiction:

Hundreds. It seemed as if the next incoming wave was full of ships. They must been tens of thousands on board.

‘I told you a war was coming. Whoever they are, they must have heard the same tales and came here to tame dragons, to tame us.’ Wesley said. He was the only one who was smiling. Who was happy.

Garge, Reaves and all the soldiers were grim. This was not going to be a war. This will be a massacre, their massacre.

‘Deacon, start readying troops. Accumulate stores and get ready for a siege. We could not hold the shore, but if we let them land we are doomed. What should be done here?’ Reaves mused out loud.

Rookie mistake, Garge knew, to muse out loud in front of soldiers. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene.  The blue horizon marred by brown tiny ships.

This is bad. Deacon estimated that the ships will be here by evening.

‘They want dragons don’t they? Let’s make them meet’ Wesley said ‘at sea they are defenseless, once we start burning none will survive. No harm to us.’

‘It is genocide. Destruction of such a scale would bring more people here. After all, so many ships can’t just disappear at sea’ Reaves muttered.

Deacon offered ‘You remember the island of San Viet?’

Of course, San Viet was visible in front of them. So close that it would need five minutes of flight to reach.

Garge got it. So did Reaves.

Five minutes later, three dragons rose from the coast. All the soldiers from the ships can see tiny specks in the sky, looking like birds but weren’t birds. The on board soldiers began shouting and pointing at the enemies in the skies and saw three descend into an island a little ahead of the coastline.

Sometime later, the Armada stopped and only one ship, seemingly the biggest of them proceeded towards the island. A small row boat, having three passengers and a rower reached the shore.

They were huge. Each of them was six feet tall at least, wearing nothing but armor and weapons. The one on the forefront was clearly their leader, as it was he who spoke first ‘In a small island like this, where would the dragons hide?’

‘They are capable of hiding themselves’ Reaves answered.

‘They? Or you?’

Shock was registered at Reaves face which pleased the foreigner. He continued

‘We know of you dragons, we have fought with you a long time ago. But then we were weak and outnumbered. Now, we are enough to have your species decimated three times over. We are sailing from shore to shore, killing your kind for your past deeds. And if we know true, you are the remnants of the fiercest creatures. And after you, men like us will rule.’

Reaves couldn’t speak for a while. Wesley’s knuckles were cracking, and smoke puffed out if his nostrils.

‘And there is your mighty army? You know if wood catches fire it would be really impossible to save the ship?’ Garge cut in.

The foreigner turned his eyes on him. He had icy blue eyes that sends shivers down your spine.

‘Have you wondered by now how we came to know of your existence? I mean this is a far land and your kind here is peaceful. So how?’ Foreigner digressed.

‘One of my daughters failed to reach home by sunset one evening. She didn’t come home the next night too. But when she did, she said that she was chased by wolves. She couldn’t fend for herself because they were too many. She said a fire breathing bird saved her. A dragon by the name Garge.’

If this was supposed to unsettle Garge, foreigner was disappointed. Garge, didn’t so much as twinge when he spoke ‘We will burn your armies before they land on our shore.’

‘And even before you can come close to breath fire among us, you will be shot down from the skies. Look at our ships,they are armored and defensive against things in the skies.’ As he said that he pointed towards his ship, and even though it was far, it wasn’t difficult to spot the giant scorpion on the ship.

No one could say anything. They wanted war, but this was going to be their end. They knew it in their bones, because the enemy knew them, knew how to kill them.

‘So you want to waste so much life just so you can kill us. I have heard of a practice to use champions..’ Reaves began pathetically but foreigner cut him off ‘You think I’ll willingly send one champion against a dragon? And what makes you think I would let them happen when I have gotten you cornered so easily.’

He waited to see the reactions in each of his opponents and smiled when he saw fear. He knew half the war is over.

He got up and removed his short swords, one in each hand. Behind him, both the soldiers had their arrows notched. The situation changed so suddenly and Garge knew there was only one way out of this. To cut his opponents down.

Wesley looked in ecstasy. Reaves looked as if he would shit himself.

‘Wesley, I know you want to but make sure that Reaves got out of here alive. You will get your blood sooner than you think.’

Out of the corner of his eyes, Wesley nodded.

War, here we come.

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#22 Breath Fire (Part 2)


(Check out previous post, part 1)
Continuation, fiction:

King Reaves loved this hall. It smelled like fire and smoke, like ash. And its his home. But his father lost this. How could he!

He never forgave his father. For being a loser. Dragons could not lose. We are invincible, even our names would ingrain fear in enemies’ bones.

And when we turn and soar up in the skies….

‘You summoned me, Majesty’ Garge said as he came into the hall. Garge was every bit as what a dragon should be. Huge, at least 6 feet tall, strong and muscular. Long black hair, always wearing his accustomed white coat with black trousers. Carrying a named broadsword at his back.

The Last King’s Broadsword, Icebreaker. Given to Garge as an honor for being far better at swordsmanship than any other in the realm. Or whatever is left of the realm.

‘Did you know my Father, the senile lizard made his last stand here twenty years ago?’ Reaves began ‘He turned here, and breathed fire at each and every soldier who came up that door. It is said that he nearly burned the King himself. The enemies waited till he tired and then they attacked all at once from all directions possible and killed him. Well most of them were burned their armor melted and stuck to their skins, only a handful survived. Not without burns. That was the bravest thing my Father did.’

Reaves knew Garge admired his Father. But he liked teasing nonetheless. Garge said nothing in reply, just stared like he always did.

It was said that he always stood that way, broadsword at his back in practice arena. Never moved and made his opponents sweat. By the time any movement happened, the opponent’s hands were so sweaty that they had difficulty holding the sword. And also because Garge was lightening fast.

‘Wesley says scouts spotted some  ships across the sea. He is sure that the enemy, whoever they are, are coming.’ Reaves said.

‘Your permission, Majesty?’ Garge began, sounding all humble. Reaves nodded waiting to hear his best friends honest words. Words he was sure will be contrary to his own.

‘Wesley would pick a fight with his dead mother because he likes the adrenaline rush. And because he would be hard for a night’s whoring then. You seriously going to have’ his word on imminent battle?’

They both stated at each other for a second the burst out laughing. None of them had believed Wesley’s word. Yet they had to talk about this.

‘The two captives?’

‘They swear they are alone. Here to catch a dragon. Guess they are caught off guard’

They eventually went to the get their lunch. All the high members of the realm joined them on the table. There was Wesley, he was another hunter like Garge, and was always desperate for a fight. He was a captain in a small platoon. Deacon, an elderly general, one who rescued Reaves and Garge twenty years ago leads the armies, maintains peace and handles all judicial functions. Vagh handles the exchequer of the people, levies taxes. Most of them are Reaves childhood friends.

Pearl joined them, she was the beauty of the realm and Reaves betrothal. Every man who could like Reaves, was jealous because he would marry Pearl.

As ate, hands filthy with grease and half drunk on rum a soldier rushed into the room and urgently spoke to Deacon’s ears.

‘Where are your manners soldier?! You are here in front of your King and you dare ignore asking his permission’ Wesley roared.

Reaves and Garge share a tiny smile, knowing full well this was what Wesley does best. But Deacon had lost all the color from his face. Everyone soon noticed that and urged him to speak.

‘Majesty, on the sea.’ He took a deep breath and continued ‘There’s ships inbound. Apparently hundreds of them.’

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#21 Breath Fire (Part 1)


(Since I missed a couple of days in my routine, and I have 10 posts left, I’ll make a long fictional fantasy story. This can be seen as a continuation of a previously written fiction:
Let’s Catch A Dragon.)

Fiction:

Garge hated this hall. It was too big. Too stark a reminder of the dark days of the past. Of the days when they walked as their True Form.

As Dragons.

They were proud. Egotistical. They thought of themselves as invincible. And when they lost, they were too few to even hold hostage. So they were left where they were. Discarded after conquer. Some women they took as hostages and slaves. After all, men liked to brag about their conquests. Garge’s sister was one those who taken. He was five at that time.

Now, twenty years later, fire lands were at peace. Subdued. But like always, pride returns. And so they returned to their own lands. To this colossal palace. Because of their King. Because of the son of the King who lost twenty years ago.

Because of the two lone warriors who had traveled far from their lands to capture dragons. They swore no one ordered them. They swore they were alone, no armies were marching behind them to battle. But their King saw this as an act of war.

So, after twenty years the Dragons were preparing for war.

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