Fantasy

The Dragon's Tail
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. But there were harpies. Harpies whose screams pierced the stoic stillness of the night like a hammer on glass. Wails that made you look up to the shadowy sky in terror for those quicksilver claws to come racing down, bury into your flesh, and carry you off to some dismal cave smelling of rot and dank, filled with similar unfortunates. Yes, there had been harpies.
By A Baum4 years ago in Fiction
The Dragon's Awakening
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Perhaps there were long ago, but that is no longer the case. Over a millennia ago, dragons ruled the skies, dominated the lands, and frequently perched themselves on the sea cliffs searching for krakens and hydras to satisfy their gargantuan appetites. However, as man encroached the Valley, the dragons started to disappear.
By Crystal A. Wolfe4 years ago in Fiction
THE BRIGHTBOND
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. However, with no other choice left, we brought them to this new land. Our survival depended on it. What we didn’t understand then, was the price we would all have to pay.
By Kristina4 years ago in Fiction
The Convergence
“There weren’t always dragons in The Valley. Hell, I reckon there weren’t dragons anywhere in California, or on Earth for that matter before The Convergence.”
By Vagabond Writes4 years ago in Fiction
Firebrand
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. We all heard the stories of course, tales told to us at bedtime. Long ago battles fought on the backs of massive dragons, villages burning beneath giant winged shadows. In the safety of our beds the dragons were just fodder for our childish dreams, sometimes nightmares. Nothing more, nothing real. That is why we weren’t prepared for what I found that day.
By James Lillich4 years ago in Fiction
Charyss
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. She had to remind herself of that. They looked so natural here, like it had always been their home. They had her to thank for this new home. Charyss had freed the dragons from the tyranny of the king and allowed them the safety to roam the land rather than hiding in Okarthel Swamp as they’d done for generations.
By KJ Pendragon4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Harvest
PROLOGUE “There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. When they came, they came like a storm. And then, as sudden as they had arrived, they were gone, and no one knows why.”
By M. Fritz Wunderli4 years ago in Fiction
Riders of the Valley
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. But oh, are they there now. Their wheeling forms cast dancing shadows upon the earth below that change and twist every second, as the dragons do. Their massive wings blot out the light above you when they fly past—sometimes screeching, sometimes roaring, sometimes spewing flame, but always, always, they pause for a millisecond to notice you. Their ancient eyes, glittering with wisdom and wildness, forever change every soul they choose to gaze at—and whether their subject comes back alive or not is an unshakable testament to one’s inner courage and fire. Wind rushes up in their wake when they fly, enough to make even the mightiest pine tree bow. Over the course of hundreds of years, explorers have noted everything about the dragons; from their feeding (they love meat, and surprisingly, berries) to their mating dances (an elaborate sky spectacle with many males swooping and calling around a single female, before she finally chooses her mate after hours of intent scrunity of each male, and wraps herself around her chosen in a dive, both pulling up the second before they’d smash into the ground).
By Anastasia4 years ago in Fiction
making dream time matter
There weren't always dragons in the valley, but when the storm clouds rolled in from the south, dragging hail and rain so heavy the trees groaned and mountains hunkered down to endure; dragons would be riding in those winds. We ran then, ran to bring the cattle down off the high pasture, ran to harvest anything that could be saved from the vegetable patch, ran to get the chickens into the barn with the sheep and the goats. As soon as the first storm cloud cleared the outer ridge of the southern peaks the alarm would be raised. The village would erupt into panic. Screaming, shouting and pleas, "Have you seen the boys. They said they were going down to the fishing hole. Please can someone go look for them". "Where's the milk goat did you see her this morning"?? "Have we got enough fire wood"?" Who is getting the cattle"? The questions rang out down the two dirt streets as our little community slammed shutters, loaded wood bins and locked doors. I was down in the cellar bottling vegetables ready for the coming winter .I heard the shouting and the sound of running feet and realised the storm from the south had been seen boiling over the Glyphy Range. In my mind's eye I could see the grey green clouds heaving and churning as they climbed over the mountains. But in my cellar everything was calm. I had but one cow and she was already in the barn waiting to drop her calf. The chickens lived in the back of the barn and would put themselves away when the wind picked up and the rain started to strip the leaves from the trees. Without warning, the ground beneath my feet trembled and small puffs of dust rose from the packed earth floor. Now that was strange and unexpected. I felt the muscles in my stomach go taut and knew that something was amiss. I left the quiet of the cellar and climbed out into the sunshine coming through the open door. Being the last house on the south side of the village, I had an uninterrupted view of the approaching storm. There on the lower peaks was the rising dust from a landslide. Large boulders were still sliding downwards, small stones moving like rivers. I strained my eyes to see where the slide had started. My eyes snagged on movement high on the ridge line of Marklin's peak. I was looking at a small dragon and she was looking back at me. Her head swung slowly back and forth like a snake, her eyes fixed and her neck extended and rigid . I could see the red and orange spines even with her wings folded away against her belly and back. As I watched her move I realised there was something wrong. She was rippling with grey and brown smudges, small flashes of moss green appearing and disappearing. Those were camouflage colours. In a heartbeat she spread her wings and leapt out into the rising thermal, gliding in a steady descent towards my cottage. I stood rooted to the spot unable to move. Wonder, awe and fear roaring through my body . As she got closer I could see the damage to the scales on her neck . Leaking a pale red ichor that left trails down her belly. I felt her call to me as her feet touched the tilled soil in my small allotment. She needed to hide and quickly. I ran for the barn and flung open the doors and she struggled into the shelter. Collapsing onto the straw , pushing the cow out the way in the process; I grabbed my rake and hurried to hide the marks of her landing out in the field. I left quickly and was soon done. When I returned she was asleep. I knelt at her neck and looked at the deep wounds that were still leaking . There was infection and the healing was not going well. I left the barn closing the doors carefully behind me. the village was still in uproar. The shouting and doors slamming echoing through the streets. Amazingly, no one seemed to realise that a dragon was now in my barn. No one had seen her come down off Marklin's Peak and glide up to my house. She wasn't much bigger than a cow, but someone must have seen her come down. How could that be, how could they not have seen her. I ran to my cottage and quickly found my herb bag and set a kettle to boil on the fire. I found rags and a bowl and washed the earth from my hands under the hand pump. I shut the windows and closed the shutters securing the building. When the water was boiling I went back to the barn loaded down with medicinals. Kneeling by her head I stroked her face with gentle hands and explained that I was going to start to clean her wounds. Long after the storm had hit and the rain still pounded on the barn roof and the wind shook the doors, I sat slowly cleaning the dragons throat. There was only one animal that could have left wounds that deep and that was another dragon. Scales had been cleaved in half or simply ripped out of the skin leaving long ragged cuts through her hide and into the flesh below. I picked out the muck and pus and packed the wounds with sulphur. Wrapping bandages soaked in herbs to reduce the swelling. Fresh blood trickled out of the clean wounds and glazed my fingers in an iridescent film. It was clearly blood but so different to mine. It felt oily and it reflected the light in odd ways. I raised my hand to my nose and sniffed trying to see if I detected the iron smell my own blood had. Nothing, not a trace of anything I could recognise. If pushed I would say it was like the smell of a snake, but that wasn't quite right either. I dabbed a finger on my tongue expecting an oily taste. The instant my mouth tasted the blood my mind exploded into a roiling mass of emotion. Fear, anger, pain and exhaustion. Each emotion swirling through my mind in a flicker of a moment. Then the dragon spoke, a tired patient voice, echoing through my head. "thank you, tell no one I'm here". "Don't eat my livestock" I replied without thinking. I felt her smile and then heard her say "Deal" and she was asleep.
By sally white4 years ago in Fiction
Chronicles of the Eight Realms
Chronicles of the Eight Realms Book One: Dragons Among Us Written By Thaumus the Bard Chapter One: There weren't always dragons in the Valley. At least, not since the Eldritch Crusade many years ago when they were hunted and persecuted due to a lack of trust with the dragon kin. Had there not been a division in where their loyalties should lie, then the sightings of dragons would not be such a novelty today. But alas, the days of dragon sightings have ended, well, until now, and it is yet to be seen if this will be good or bad, but this bard is betting that it will be a bit of both.
By Thaumus the Bard4 years ago in Fiction
Song of the Dragons
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The land wasn't always blackened, barren and dead. It wasn't always shrouded in its permanent haze of smoke and ash. There weren't always guttural growls threatening death to those who wandered too close. Once a lush place that was so full of life, the Valley would never be the same again.
By Taylor D. Levesque4 years ago in Fiction
A Fury of Flight and Fire
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. At least... that's what the town elders claimed. That the Kingdom's true history is nearly extinguished, snuffed out of existence by the creatures that have invaded our country.
By B4 years ago in Fiction