Lies of the Fay

There weren't always dragons in the valley. Apparently it used to be beautiful. Before all the buildings that is. I was too young to remember then but my mother reminisces about it frequently. The river had an infinite amount of fish in it. The hills were full of lush long grass and flowers that made the air smell sweet. There were animals everywhere and you could roam freely in the valley. Most importantly the mountains provided protection, but nothing can protect you from a dragon.

The dragon attack happened sixteen years ago. Ever since then the Valley has been cramped, dirty and ugly. But people were scared and the response was to build. The majority of our community agreed if the mountains couldn’t protect us we had to find our own way.

There are large metal buildings with small windows and rust starting to develop lining the banks of the river. You can hardly even see the mountains from the street. This is how we live, packed like sardines in our ‘heat protected homes’ or so they say. Apparently they are adorned with magic. Should a dragon come back the buildings will not burn, crumble or heat up. No one knows if the magic is real because a dragon has never shown up since.

After the dragon attack a large ship came with a lot of workers and even more metal. They built our new city to protect us from future dragons. Our community wasn’t the first that survived a dragon attack. We heard of rumors but thought it impossible a dragon would find its way down into the Valley, we thought we were hidden.

When the city was built we almost never left our building, not unless we had to. Now that I’m older I can go out but only if I bring along my not so little, little brother, Forrest. Our mother only leaves the house if she must. Most of the time I don’t mind him tagging along. He’s good company and keeps me laughing, but he has an obsession with anything related to the dragon and he’s a chatter box. He has journals full of peoples memories from that day and even information on dragons before then.

The stories tell of a time when our ancestors originally came to the valley. They say it was to hide from dragons. Dragons were taking claim of this world and trying to restore it to the way it once was, before men began to build. Dragons despise humans for destroying and polluting the world we live in. The dragons sought the help of fairies who used their magic to ride the dragons, seek out villages, towns and cities then set fire to them.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Forrest has questioned every person in this city old enough to remember. That is everyone except our mother. I know it’s because the loss of our dad is too hard for her to talk about. All my life she has always said to me “Faye, you are this families living image of your father.” especially my “fire kissed hair” as she puts it. To be honest it’s almost the only thing left I actually remember of him. Sometime I’ll stare into the mirror and try to see him within myself. If I stare long enough I’ll catch a glimpse of him but it never lasts long.

Even though we haven’t had a dragon around here in over a decade I occasionally have nightmares from that day. The sun was just starting to rise, our dog Lip was scratching at the front door to be let out. My father, with his ginger hair would always let Lip run out before him while he got his boots and coat on. Dad was just tying up his boots when a dark shadow covered the entire valley. There was a stillness in the air and everything seemed to go quiet, the same way it feels right before a tornado, but this tornado was made of fire.

As he ran through the door there was a roar that shook the earth beneath you. And then the sky burned red. He shouted to our mother to get out of the house. As our once wooden home started to catch fire my mother grabed my brother and I and rushed out the door. She screamed my fathers name over and over “Charlie, Charlie!” with no response. Panicked she started running to the mountain side. People were screaming and running in all different directions some towards the river and others towards the mountains.

As my mother was running away from the river I caught a glimpse of bright red hair, it was my father. He was carrying Lip over his shoulders, I yelled for him as loud as any four year old could. Just as he turned our direction there was another strobe of red, followed by immense heat and finally a black puff of smoke. The heat forced my eyes shut and the smoke prevented me from opening my mouth to yell. By the time I could open my eyes again we were very far from the river in the valley, and my father was nowhere to be seen.