Note: I wrote this story in 2011, as an assignment for an English Comp. class in college. It is one of only a handful of short stories I've written that isn't erotic in nature. It's also something I've thought many times could turn into a much larger story - this brief story could very easily become the first page or so of a novella, if I had time to work on it. This is the first time I've read this in years. The only copy I had was posted on my Facebook page, which has been deactivated since 2012. I have wanted to go on there to retrieve this story for close to a year now. What finally made me do it was actually the difficulty I've had writing the other story I've been working on. I've kind of promised you guys a story, so had to fulfill that promise. So, here is the story, complete with my original opening note from Facebook. Hope you enjoy.
In our comp class, we were told to write a short story which contained the following elements: A dragon, a beach ball, dinnerware, and a thunderstorm. This is what I came up with.
The sun blazed in the sky, a scorching yellow beach ball against a sea-blue backdrop. The dragon alit from the castle parapet, the force of the wind caused by the beating of its massive wings rattling dinnerware in cupboards throughout the valley. As the dragon rose into the sky, the sun prismed through its translucent wings, decorating the hillside like a stained-glass window.
Antoinette looked up from her loom, despair filling her eyes as she watched the beast climb into the sky. She moved around the house quickly, gathering what few precious items she owned and storing them in a small hole under the floor. She ran out of the simple house toward the nearest of the caves in the hills surrounding the village. As she reached the entrance, the first screams from the far side of town pierced the air.
Antoinette carefully made her way toward the back of the narrow cave, her eyes adjusting to the darkness enough to see the shapes of four other townspeople ahead of her, but she was unable to recognize them in the gathering gloom. She sat against the cold dirt wall, hoping more villagers would make it to the safety of the cave. As the minutes wore on, however, her hope turned to dread, as only one more person entered the cave that day, a younger man, by the sound of his breathing.
Six people, hiding in a cave that used to hide nearly one-hundred. Back then they would be packed in so tightly it was difficult to breathe. With only six people in the cave, there were vast oceans of isolation separating them. Antoinette pulled her legs to her chest, waiting out the long, terrible day, falling asleep to the sounds of screams and the faint smell of smoke.
During the night, she awoke to the sound of distant thunder. Gathering her courage, Antoinette made her way to the mouth of the cave. The destruction before her was worse than usual. The acrid stench of smoke, mingled with the copper-rich smell of blood, filled her nostrils. Not a single dwelling in the village remained standing. Each building was now a smouldering pile of embers or a wind-strewn scattering of splinters and ash, and most of the fields were trampled or scorched.
Antoinette carefully scanned the sky for any sign of the dragon. As the moon peeked out from behind a cloud, she could see the creature perched again atop the castle in the distance. Done, then, for another year, she thought.
She carefully made her way to the smoking remains of her home, thankful that the darkness hid the carnage that surely must be strewn throughout the valley. She circled the foundation of the house as the first drops of rain began to fall, searching for an opening to reach the hiding hole in the floor. Finally finding a gap, she picked her way through the rubble, cautiously avoiding the few small fires still burning. The wind began to gain speed, the storm beginning to gather strength, as she carefully uncovered her hidden treasures. Lightning streaked across the sky as she removed the last few boards over the hole...
Antoinette stared, disbelieving, into the small hole for several minutes, tears and rain streaming down her face. Everything she held dear, every remnant that held the memory of her husband, destroyed. All that remained were ashes and a small puddle of molten metals.
Around her, the thunderstorm raged. "Sleep well, dragon," she uttered, her voice quiet but strong. "Next year when you come to enjoy your feast I shall not hide."
In our comp class, we were told to write a short story which contained the following elements: A dragon, a beach ball, dinnerware, and a thunderstorm. This is what I came up with.
The Village Feast
The sun blazed in the sky, a scorching yellow beach ball against a sea-blue backdrop. The dragon alit from the castle parapet, the force of the wind caused by the beating of its massive wings rattling dinnerware in cupboards throughout the valley. As the dragon rose into the sky, the sun prismed through its translucent wings, decorating the hillside like a stained-glass window.
Antoinette looked up from her loom, despair filling her eyes as she watched the beast climb into the sky. She moved around the house quickly, gathering what few precious items she owned and storing them in a small hole under the floor. She ran out of the simple house toward the nearest of the caves in the hills surrounding the village. As she reached the entrance, the first screams from the far side of town pierced the air.
Antoinette carefully made her way toward the back of the narrow cave, her eyes adjusting to the darkness enough to see the shapes of four other townspeople ahead of her, but she was unable to recognize them in the gathering gloom. She sat against the cold dirt wall, hoping more villagers would make it to the safety of the cave. As the minutes wore on, however, her hope turned to dread, as only one more person entered the cave that day, a younger man, by the sound of his breathing.
Six people, hiding in a cave that used to hide nearly one-hundred. Back then they would be packed in so tightly it was difficult to breathe. With only six people in the cave, there were vast oceans of isolation separating them. Antoinette pulled her legs to her chest, waiting out the long, terrible day, falling asleep to the sounds of screams and the faint smell of smoke.
During the night, she awoke to the sound of distant thunder. Gathering her courage, Antoinette made her way to the mouth of the cave. The destruction before her was worse than usual. The acrid stench of smoke, mingled with the copper-rich smell of blood, filled her nostrils. Not a single dwelling in the village remained standing. Each building was now a smouldering pile of embers or a wind-strewn scattering of splinters and ash, and most of the fields were trampled or scorched.
Antoinette carefully scanned the sky for any sign of the dragon. As the moon peeked out from behind a cloud, she could see the creature perched again atop the castle in the distance. Done, then, for another year, she thought.
She carefully made her way to the smoking remains of her home, thankful that the darkness hid the carnage that surely must be strewn throughout the valley. She circled the foundation of the house as the first drops of rain began to fall, searching for an opening to reach the hiding hole in the floor. Finally finding a gap, she picked her way through the rubble, cautiously avoiding the few small fires still burning. The wind began to gain speed, the storm beginning to gather strength, as she carefully uncovered her hidden treasures. Lightning streaked across the sky as she removed the last few boards over the hole...
Antoinette stared, disbelieving, into the small hole for several minutes, tears and rain streaming down her face. Everything she held dear, every remnant that held the memory of her husband, destroyed. All that remained were ashes and a small puddle of molten metals.
Around her, the thunderstorm raged. "Sleep well, dragon," she uttered, her voice quiet but strong. "Next year when you come to enjoy your feast I shall not hide."
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