Today’s Drabble Wednesday belongs to the fragility of innocence, its trials and its tragedy…
She stood in the shadow of a dying tree.
The same tree she used to climb, the tree she raced around with her friends, where she picked ripe fruit not that many years past. She looked up and sighed.
No, not that many years, but it feels as if the world has spun a hundred lifetimes since. I have the memories, but my joy cracked and scattered across time. Leaving me hollow.
Then she stared at her village, anger rising. “You abandoned me. Sacrificed me. But I survived.”
She moved forward, smiling, returning home.
And blight and death followed her.
That is what they call me. At least to my face. I hear whispers of other names: doddering, feeble, senile, worn-out clod. They see only age and assume I’m hard of hearing. More the fool them, I think.
I stare sometimes at their young faces, so eager, so arrogant, all hoping to be the next Empire Mage. Half will leave after second level training and end conjuring spells for a village. Some will make it to the higher levels, to serve in a noble house.
Only a few will rise to face me, to try and take my place.
The forest is so dark, and I don’t know the way back. I fled my home because some bad men came. They attacked us, but I ran and ran, right into this forest. That’s how I got lost. I was scared and I ran.
Now I just want Mama.
She told me to run. Maybe I should’ve stayed. Maybe I should’ve helped her and Papa fight the bad men. I don’t know what happened to them. I’m cold and hungry. I want to see Mama and Papa.
Why did the bad men come?
Why do the humans hate dragons so?
© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved