Alteration

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Our once booming desert oasis that was riddled with salty air, ancient shorelines, and a sea of houses that all look the same. The dragons have become our stand-offish neighbors living either in the protective mountains surrounding our valley or have taken solace in the abandoned single family homes on the outer edges of the HOA property lines if they were greedy enough. Some hoard bones, carcasses, and other ghastly sights. While others hoard flat screen TVs, unused cookbooks, and other household items that we snicker at despite the high value these items hold for our scaled community members.

“Our world has dramatically changed forever.” Our ancestral bellwethers would say. Yet to try and comprehend an astronomical meteor ripping through the surface of earth and then time the funny old concept bends and wraps around it so tight that even the divine creators above couldn’t fabricate the devastation. We snapped right back into the atmosphere launching us into a skewed timeline somewhere between fantasy and apocalyptic. I’ve read about those words before and didn’t quite realize I’d be living between the two at the ripe age of seventeen.

We choose our own names now, and that is once when we can comprehend what they mean as you only get one chance to choose correctly or you’re sent to outliers. After choosing a name, our self sufficient independence begins and you find your own place in our newly bastard born fantasy realm. I’ve hailed the name Vieets. A suitable name that carries an omen tribute to my sorceress familial namesake. At the age I am now, I’m not yet fully grown based on our numeric system but I have aged considerably. The toxic phantasms contribute a lot to that. My skin has hardened to adapt to the shapeshifting climate. My pupils have lightened to navigate the swirling and distracting atmosphere and yet my long curly hair remains the same golden color. I’ve been told it’s impervious and dangerous to have. Especially since we all know, dragons love gold.

Our days have gotten longer and our nights have been replaced with a dysfunctional but charming society lit by fae light. Dragons hunt during the day because of their poor eyesight and depth perception. Relying on other instincts to assist with their everlasting collectible hunting. Humans and other bipedal creatures collect also, but not in the way the dragons greedily execute. Our burgs as we like to call them, are trading epicenters. With its discombobulated walls as former restaurant and city buildings, billboards and the binding new to our world of fantastical flora that is all colors both old and new.

We have learned to live in a harmony that’s missing just one key. The unstable alliance between the bipeds and the dragons remains at odds. Neither party is willing to contribute. Yet my curiosity to paint the whole picture of both sides won’t be satisfied until I find the mediums I’m looking for. I’m not the hero of this realm, but more of a cheeky storyteller bored with the mundane functions of the burg. Giggling, reminiscing and writing down the moments that led up to the Alteration as I like to call it will be the guidelines for our kin yet to arrive.

Each story and each witness account forges a new definition to solidarity. Something that I believe is a matter of life and outliers. Should you accept my invitation to join me on my peregrination through a world you don’t know yet, just know the invite holds a promise to beautifully choreographed images your soul has been lusting for and what I believe gives you the meaning to live. Should you deny, the outliers will cry, and you get to experience what is ‘not’ to die which is a lot worse believe you me.