Judy Gandza
Stories (1/0)
Dragon's Breath
by Judy Gandza There weren’t always dragons in the valley. I look down at the blood dripping off my hands, feel it sliding down my face, soaking into my jeans, I listen to it make squishing sounds in the grass and mud under the soles of my shoes with each step I take. My arm is tingling from the strain of swinging this heavy sword, my chest is still heaving from the efforts as I fall to my knees. I see movement all around me, yet everything seems to be moving in slow in motion – the hungry flames of a big bonfire a short distance away as it sends sprays of sparks with each gust of wind, swords clashing from those who are still engaged in battle, people’s mouths moving as if they are shouting insults or orders, a human clenching his head and screaming in pain - yet the actual sounds that I associate with all of these acts seem muffled and far away. To my right three of my fellow warriors are fending off the enemy, though one, whose name is escaping me at the moment, keeps glancing in my direction, worry stitched on his brow. What is his name? I know him well…think, dam-it! Turning my eyes to the left I see a heavy mist moving down from the mountains over a sea of fallen bodies, mostly human and my heart swells at the possibility that we are winning. All this I see and feel and I wonder why those are the only words to move through my mind….there weren’t always dragons in the valley.
By Judy Gandza2 years ago in Fiction