The Ocean

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Dull moonlight glinted off a wet, scaled hide. A water dragon kneeled in the wake of an ocean beach. Gentle waves lapped over his hands, which had nearly sunken into the sand mire. His muscular tail was draped limply across the sand behind him and his head hung as if in shame, ocean spray beading on his resilient head scales and sliding down to his chin, only to drip off and rejoin their greater entity. His eyelids were closed, oblivious to the sights around him; in fact, he was oblivious to almost every sense that a normal being would have.

These were the thoughts of Krevan as his steps took him closer to the legendary creature that knelt before him, fine-ground sand oozing up from between his paw digits with every step forward. His breath slowed almost to a standstill once his was within feet of his rare find. Darkened flashlight in one fore-paw, he extended the other, bringing his fingertips within inches, now. Adrenaline pounded in Krevan’s blood, his eyes wide and his breath ceased.

As the enthralled’s finger pad met with the thin membrane of water on the dragon’s hide, a chill rushed through Krevan’s body. Before he was able to collect himself from the sheer excitement, he found himself spreading his whole paw across the slippery hide.

Nothing happened. Then, as if driven by an invisible force, Krevan turned his head out to sea.


“Remember that time we tricked little Brian into believing that clouds were made of cotton candy?”

“How about the time when the rabid dogs chased us all the way to Gravel’s wall?”

“No? How about when the war came? Your father went off to serve and never returned.”

“Don’t you remember anything?”


At last, Krevan felt movement under his paw, blinking with glazed eyes and peering down. Two sapphire eyes gazed into his, piercing with a calm demeanor.


“They’re all gone, fox.”


“No.” And no.





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