Fable
Living with dragons
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. I mean, there weren’t always red and black dragons in the Valley. The original dragons were golden. The town villagers had begun to mine for precious metals, and extra chemicals leached into the water sources the dragons used to drink from, thus causing these creatures to shed their outer skins. Underneath their old, discarded skins, iridescent-colored skins would emerge, which shone in the sunlight in hues ranging from baby blue to petroleum blue; pearly whites, shimmering pink (especially the female baby dragons)… and metallic silver colors.
By Paulette Pagani2 years ago in Fiction
Tails From the Gate
There weren’t always dragons in the valley, until that damn gateway showed up. Before it started spewing the scaly bastards left and right, I would like to think this was a peaceful place. A peaceful place, with flowers and little woodland animals, stuff like that. But now this place is full of them fighting and burning everything to the ground. We don’t know if it’s the breeze coming off the mountains or the smell of armored tanks leaking diesel fuel keeping them here, but dragons call this valley home now. And it’s up to the Fifth Division infantry to evict them. Truth be told no one has been able to kill even one. They kill themselves more than we have ever been able to even make a dent. That is until today, an injured one was spotted and we’ve been tasked with killing it off.
By Kenneth Boutte2 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Tongue
"There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Hell, the most we'd get down here would be Crawlings when the swamp spilled over. Oh right, you're not from here. Crawlings are spider-like creatures the size of hounds with faces resembling that of crocodiles. Their scales run around it's whole head and body but it's legs are hairy, spindly and webbed-like, like a Vampire Squid if it had spiders legs. Oh phoenix-toes, where the hell are my manners; I'm Vince. I'd say it's nice to meet ya, friend, but I'm not entirely sure you or I will survive the attack on this town here so let's forgo the pleasantries at the moment and focus on the task at hand. Getting the slippery-frog-knuckle out of here!"
By Tony Stone2 years ago in Fiction
LA CURANDERA
LA CURANDERA The Healer
By Eladio Del Castillo2 years ago in Fiction
The dragon of mordiford
THE DRAGON OF MORDIFORD Chapter one There weren't always dragons in the valley. Or wyverns as some might call them. They used to only reside in the hills and forest. You have to understand I wanted a pet more than anything else. I had begged mother for one until she was sick of the mere subject of animals. I could never have anticipated what came next for the little town of mordiford.
By EVA MILLER2 years ago in Fiction
Fairy Tales
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Although it was hard to tell, given they were invisible. But it wasn’t the dragons that I feared most – it was the fairies. And the Valley was never short on the number of fairies flitting around and creating havoc among the villagers.
By Tracy Kreuzburg 2 years ago in Fiction
Hound Dragons
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. The humans that lived there were simple beings, who grew food from the dust and used the hides of various beasts to cover their own skins. My dragon ancestors often watched the creatures silently from their place upon the mountain peaks, finding some slight amusement in doing so, as one mind find in a hare darting from shrub to shrub. No larger than hounds, with scales of crimson, green and brown—and a wing scale hardly suitable for gliding—they would pause from scampering about in the snow to gaze down at those curious beings in the valley. Then, a sudden warm gust of air would cause them to turn their gaze upwards to the great majesties of the sky, the seven colossal dragons who ruled over the so-called “hound dragons” in a manner that the humans would very well describe as divine. These gusts of air served as gentle reminders to my ancestors that the human realm was and would forever be, set apart from our own.
By Kimberly Jantze2 years ago in Fiction
Pegasus: the world's best flying horses
Pegasus and Hercules. Pegasus and Perseus. Pegasus and whoever else was rumored to have ridden him into a great battle that would be etched down into a saga that Greek nobles and historians would make changes to and argue about for the next hundred years or so.
By Tristan Palmer2 years ago in Fiction
The Lost Fur
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The world had changed so, much. It had become cold and grey from the rebirth according to the legend. It was beautiful at first, but after they lost there fur they became cold and mean living by fire. They were our friends helping by the air and on land. Out of nowhere the strong flew into the volcanic magma and came out hard, scaly, fire breathing creation. We had lost all hope we had to build the machines to fight back. The creations that could survive the battle. One for each tribe as a protector of the people in remembrance of the old way. The tribes were us the nine that survived. The nine that still lived today. We all lasted after the ritual they preformed. We had to scavenge for food intel strong enough to hunt and build shelter. The valley we were in so, peaceful. Our people had grown strong in the eyes of God above. The one above took mercy upon him and blessed them with dragons. To help them build the land from the sky and make easy lifting the heavy stones for the temple. The temple built strong and mighty designed at first for the sea serpents but, blessed for the dragons above. The sea serpents battled the sky dragons in all there power. the Shaman tribe had got to witness these battles trying to heal them. The damage they had done to the land living the way they do. My son and I lasted living around helping the tribe in anyway we could. Doing our work in the field were we belonged. Lasting the cold nights, living out the long heat. The reason being trying to heal the very hardness that became them. The ice cold scale as so the very fire inside of them. We the people of the tribe had built mechanisms strong enough to battle amongst the winged dragons and sea serpents. They were made of metal and magic to hold them together. the power they had to capture. The strength we relied on to save ourselves. The very chance at catching one was a great thing for us. To do research and try to regain the thing they lost, but they knew fight to the death nearly suicided themselves in the fight against the machines.
By Jeffrey Allison2 years ago in Fiction