Fantasy
Hannah
“There weren’t always dragons in the valley.” Hannah looked up at me, her eyes puzzled and challenging. That look caught me; those cola brown eyes, endless with innocence. The kind of look that only a child could have. When you tell them something absurd, and they are fully aware of just how outlandish the statement is, but they have that certain look; still waiting the reaffirmation that you’re only joking. Of course, in this instance, I wasn’t joking at all. And it occurred to me all at once, just in that very moment, that in her nearly ten years of age, I had never really talked about life before all of this. A flood of memories washed over my mind, and began welling up in my eyes.
By Brandon Boyer4 years ago in Fiction
The Arrival
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Nick had never known the peace of that time, but his grandfather had. He loved hearing his grandfather’s stories about his childhood when people could freely enjoy the beautiful land. Nick had heard the story of the day the dragons arrived so many times, but today he was unwell and wanted his grandfather to be close by, so he asked him again.
By Liz Fletcher 4 years ago in Fiction
Darkness Calling
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. They came with the settlers. Some say the dragons were mighty warriors from a forgotten time. Some say they were attracted to the night fires, and they came from the dark forests drawn by the light like moths. They were mostly shy creatures that kept to themselves, stealing a sheep or two here or there. Most people didn’t even really believe they existed, since most people had never seen one.
By Cathrine Birch 4 years ago in Fiction
Look To The Sky
The Fleeing Part One by Debra Tennison There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Lore and legend claim centuries ago flying devils suddenly appeared in the skies above them, laying waste to fields and farms. Life stock disappeared, children disappeared, and the remaining people retreated in fear to the caves and safe places to await their fate. Heroes rode out to meet them but never came back. Man could not stand before their angry fire. As legend goes, one day the dragons disappeared and did not return. They were gone as quickly as they had arrived. Cities were rebuilt, fields re-sown and hope grew again. But that was all in myth. No one looked to the sky and trembled anymore, and the dragons had faded from legend and memory. No, there weren’t always dragons in the valley.
By Debra Tennison4 years ago in Fiction
The Reflection of Fire
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Before the deafening screams from mourning mothers echoed through the winding woods, there had been birds that perched on trees, whistling tunes to each other as well as any kind traveler who happened to pass by.
By AJ Wordsmith4 years ago in Fiction
Ari the Navigator
“There weren’t always dragons in the valley.” The human child who whispered these words was lying inside the small boat, sleeping, with her red hair bunched under her body and her arms splayed over her face, as if to shield out long-forgotten sunshine remembered only in body and dream. The peacock sitting across from her craned his narrow head for some further hint of where her dreams might be taking her, if for no reason other than to learn more about this strange creature he shared the boat with. For the past hour or so he had watched her sleeping form, listening. She occasionally muttered half-formed words, strange incantations under her breath. But the girl remained as mysterious to the peacock as the mighty dragons that surely soared across the skies of the valleys carved deep into her dreams.
By Steve Hanson4 years ago in Fiction
The Flames of War
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. As far as anyone knew, the only place that held dragons was the land of the Fae called the Golden North. The Fae had long enslaved the dragons, breeding them to be mounts and pawns in their battles.
By TheRussetNightingale4 years ago in Fiction
Son of Earl
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley; there wasn't always misery and darkness, at least, not in my life. My name is Aro, son of Earl, and I was the third of 5 children, living in a small farm on the outskirts of my village. My father was a baker and, although we didn’t have much, we never really went hungry, there was an abundance of love and respect in our humble little home and for that I am grateful. I suppose, however, like every other lad my age, I could take things for granted, I threw the occasional tantrum, and dreamed that my life was full of glory and adventure, like the tales we heard of in the old folk lore.
By Medusa Stone4 years ago in Fiction
The Right to Bear Wings
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Let me be more precise. The dragons that we could see from the valley were not a threat. Occasionally you might see one soaring overhead, passing between distant peaks, but never did they venture down into the lowlands, where my folk reside.
By Amber Iris4 years ago in Fiction
