Dragon Memoirs – A Rather Curious Bug

Every once in a while – a strong character emerges from my little bits of flash fiction, and decides to stick around after the story is written.  They generally add to the chorus of little voices in my head.  Every once in a great while, they meet in the landscape of my dreaming mind, and cause all sorts of trouble.

The Dragon has been around since this winter – nattering in my ear and occasionally breathing new tales of his ancient race to my concious mind.  Dutifully, I jot these leavenings down.

A bit a go, he met up with Bug – another very strong character who emerged from the rough streets, and has been enjoying herself intently in the darker corners of my mind.  As you can see – they have now had the opportunity to meet.  What trouble will they get into next?

 

210 words

 

My daily sojourn – to connect with the essence of the world and keep apprised of the human collective – was met today with a rather remarkable occurrence. I had the opportunity to cross paths with a rather curious bug.

A slight, soft, little half-grown human with abilities decades beyond her physical years caught my inner eye.  She blends into her environment as easily as I do, manufacturing personae at will to appear helpless and weak – tactics successfully employed to extract enough wealth from the comfortable to survive.

It wasn’t this pitiable personae which stirred my inner sight, though.  Rather, it was the warp she had stitched into place around her.

Imagine my surprise – here before me stands a human child who, with no formal training or even a clear understanding of the energies surrounding all life, masterfully weaves the Earth’s Song to do her bidding.

A human child – weaving the magics of the Dragons.

I was so stunned by the feel of magics not my own, I almost missed the gun she withdrew from her clothing.

She sleeps now, and will continue to do so, until certain questions are answered.

Why was this child – this Master of the Street known only as Bug, turned into a weapon and aimed at me?

Dragon Memoirs 4.03.15 – WHAT were we Thinking?

From time to time – the Dragon surfaces from the scattered voices in my head, and natters a sweet story from his journal into my ear.  Most of the time, he erupts just as the weekly Flash! Friday contest is announced, so this is a very happy occurance.  For my flash entry this week – another in the loosely-linked series I’m calling the Dragon Memoirs.  Enjoy my latest flash!

What were we thinking?

210 words

It had always seemed odd to us that this planet, teeming with an abundance of life, should only produce one species gifted with sentience.  Why had the other large-brained animals, specifically the feline and the biped, not crossed the barrier from simple animal hierarchy to true awareness?  Why was it only us, the reptile, who rose above simple survival to adapt our environment to suit us?

Our best minds debated the length and breadth of this question, emerging with a single, logical theory.  The hostile, murderous sands of our desert environment had forced our sentience.  Our simple reptile forebears had little choice – learn to alter this environment, or die as a species.

Our First Learned Rule:  Adapt, or Die.

Thus did the Dragon flourish.

“To further prove our theory,”  The Collegiate insisted, “Let us experiment on the biped.  Let’s see if their struggle for survival equates sentience.”

What were we thinking???

We’d mastered the elements for our species’ survival.  Tampering with life for experimentation was our species’ downfall.

We blasted the savannah for science, scorching the life from the soil, tearing the water from the land.  The biped reached awareness with the fire of this violence embedded in their veins.

Thus did the Human emerge to annihilate the Dragon.

 

Flash Fiction – A “Roman” Observer

Flash! Friday has come and gone – but fear not – my entry was submitted on time for the group.  This week’s prompt was dual (our mistress returned the dragon’s bidding) – the picture was The Colosseum in Rome, and we had to include a janitor in the story.  She also gave us an additional 50 words.  Yup!

With the return of the Dragon’s Bidding – how could my own dragon not surface from his solitude, and offer up an observation from his own memoirs?  Enjoy a little slice of flash!

A “Roman” Observer

202 words

I shamble through the stacked tiers of the enormous travertine bowl of the Colosseum, moving quickly as the weighted shackles permit. I lift a discarded rind from its marble seat, feel it slither to the bottom of my bag. A shard of broken clay settles beside it, rapidly joined by the scrap of leather torn from a nobleman’s sandal.

How have I fallen this far? Me! How is it that I am reduced to residence in chains? To cleaning this house of carnage between bouts of depravity, gathering the debris of revelry absently abandoned by those watching the inferior bleed out for their pleasure?

How long will they prey on themselves, in the absence of any worthwhile enemy?  When will they discard this myopic delusion of grandeur, to finally acknowledge the sentience embedded in the bones of the world?

What would these macabre voyeurs do with a REAL monster within their stone ring? A fabled, towering beast of wing and hide from their blackest night-terrors, one effortlessly suspending the Earth’s Elements between my strong claws?

Teeth far too long and sharp flash briefly between my lips, emboldened by the fantasy of casting off my illusionary form.

Tempted, I am, to find out.

Flash! Friday – Who Mourns the Dragons?

It’s Friday again…you know what that means…time to head on over to Flash!Friday for another round of short fiction…

The photographer in me absolutely LOVES the shot she’s chosen for this week – there’s a lot of color and vibrancy to it – and the bokeh technique (very narrow depth of field and quick shutter speeds with adequate light) is one of my personal favorites.  Here’s one of my first experiments with bokeh – and while a Basilisk is nowhere in the same family as the Chinese Dragon given to us in the Flash challenge, the technique to capture the shot is the same.

Onward!  To Flash Fiction~

Who Mourns the Dragon?

160 words

At every corner, wall and window, I am assaulted with images of my brethren.  Gaudy splashes of eye-watering clashing colors smeared thick on cheap paper mâché, the disfigured skulls festooned with ribbon and lace are obscene in their cheerfulness.  Disgusting how my race has been so distorted by those victorious in the war they initiated.

One of my dragon-etched vases.

Sheep’s clothing firmly in place, I settle at an empty bench in the square, watching the genocidal maniacs celebrate the annihilation of my species.

Tiny heads garnish the table before me, and I call to mind the terrible tableau of our children slaughtered in their creche.  The blood, the torn bodies, all the promise of our species broken on the bones of the Earth.  It’s one image I will obsessively visualize until I inevitably pass into dust.  My memories are the only true recounting of our customs, passions, deep familial bonds, heritage, and, lastly, our extinction.

Who will mourn the dragon when I am gone?