New Fantasy Fiction Challenge Prologue

There weren't always dragons in the valley. The mystics say the dragons came because we stopped offerings and sacrifices to our gods. The warriors say the dragons came because we let down our defenses and stopped honoring the fallen dead. Some scholars say the dragons are the result of disharmony among the clans of the north. The only thing that matters is that the dragons have returned.

The memory of the invasion is terminally burned into my sole. The haunting persists all day and all night. Where to go to learn how to breath again? It can not be put in words the feeling of shock and horror. First there is this strange peace-an unholy silence. You know something is wrong, but it can not be defined. There are no birds chirping, no bees buzzing. The only sound is breathing. The only sensation is your heart beating. Somewhere in the distance is heard a strange-shrieking followed by a roar. What is this sound? Where is it coming from? Looking around in the distance is a flock of small birds with large tails headed toward the valley. Standing shocked as fire flows from the birds followed by the reality of people instantly consumed by balls of fire. Smoke rises to the air mixed with the horrible screams of the consumed. Dragons are coming your way.

Racing for answers, to run or to hide? Where to run? Where to hide? They can see you coming for miles. They can smell you, they can hear you. There will be no running or hiding from dragons. You are going to die. Panic attacks and covers like a blanket as you desperately try to cling to any sort of sanity. Familiar places seen strange. Shelters and places of worship destroyed have ceased to offer refuge. Isn't there a rock or a mountain, or a cavern off in the distance? How to get there? Will I get there in time?

The screams and shriek get louder and you find yourself who fully unprepared. You have no water, no armor, no food, no shelter and most important no plans. You thought this day would never come. The prophets have prophesied about dragons for generations. Suddenly all of those crazy old men seem not be so crazy anymore. Those silly bed-time story for children, the prose of poets waiting on the wings to preform for the the waiting crowd at a harvest festival, and the boasts of ancient warriors suddenly seem very real. Yet despite all that is known, no amount of planning is sufficient to prepare for the arrival of dragons.

How did I survive? That is the question often heard around the camp. It almost seems requisite to tell people before they ask. I wish I was brave and fought with the sword of my father thus commanding fear in the heart of a dragon enough to take refuse a cave. Sadly as I was frantically looking around for a place to hide, I tripped on a rock and fell deep into a rather muddy ravine. Laugh as you may, the mud made me invisible to the eyes of the dragons. The dragons flew over my head. That is when I knew I was going to survive, so long as I stayed motionless in the cold mud.

The most difficult decision in my life came upon me like a blow to the head. When is it safe to move on? Yet if you stay in this muddy ravine you will die from the cold winds. So I stayed on the ground until late in the evening. Cold, muddy and hungry, slowly I managed to stagger my way to the end of the valley. I remembered that at the end of the valley was a cave where we stored meat and cheese. Surly there would still be a bit of food left from our winter supply of food.

It occurred to me that maybe I wasn't so brilliant. Surely others before me had also thought of seeking shelter in the mountain at the end of the valley. What if there is no room to hid? What if all the food is gone? What if the dragons know and are herding us like cattle to the slaughter? All that was left to do was to shiver, hope and cry.

There was already a small gathering inside the cavern in the mountain at the end of the valley when I arrived late that night. No words were spoken. We only huddled around a small lantern only looking in vain at each other for answers. Everything was going to be different now. I can't just start a fire and get warm for fear of the light being noticed in the distance. Music and dancing are simply out. Even talking must be done in a quiet-whisper for fear of being heard. Everything I say, every step I make must be done with complete caution. There is no more peace, only suffering.

One desperately to races to remember the stories of the old times. If only there is some truth, something overlooked, some answer yet uncovered. What have we forgotten? What did we miss? What can we do? How did our proud fathers-fathers prove victorious? What were the lessons learned on the battlefield from the ancient warriors who fought back the dragons? Those stories give us hope. Yet we know there is no fighting dragons today or anytime soon. We are scarily holding on.

Now it is our turn to cling to caves and for the dragons roam free. I try to focus only on my distant memories of the troubles I once had. I used to think life was so hard. Now I wonder if I will make it to see the coming day. Home was once a land of builders and farmers. Children played and mothers complained. There was a feeling that everything was in its proper place. Life was like a musical harmony, with each blossom and harvest were part of the beat and each season a part of the rhythm. There was an overall feeling of peace within the land for there weren't always dragons in the valley.