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The Dragon Rider

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It was dark. It was gloomy. Fog blanketed the valley as if it was trying to fill the hole between the mountains with a light foamy crème for a giant's ice cream sundae. The wind was still; the air was still. Breathing at a time like that would have given you a one-way ticket to the underworld. And yet, there was a breath, and a stomp. A stomp of heavily clad feet not quite sure where they were going because of the obscuring fog. The owner of the feet seemed to be under the impression that the harder and more aggressively he bore his foot down to the ground, the more likely it would be that he wouldn't step on anything. If not that, then he would at least destroy it in the process. And yet, the air was still. The fog had settled as heavily as possible and seemed to be clinging to the air desperately. Or rather, it seemed, it seemed to be tensing up, as if for a long leap. Nobody moved. Nothing moved.

Except the invading army.

The fog was thrust aside by the leader like a curtain in an archway. Unceremoniously, apathetically, offhandedly. It seemed that nothing could stand before the invasive strength of these horribly evil and twisted men. Maybe not even this honest and true army that emerged from the treees and seemed to blend into the fog as seamlessly as into their own skin.

They were courageous. They were brave. All the good in the world rested on their shoulders. The egg they protected must not be taken, or the last of the good dragons would be turned to evil. That must not happen. For the sake of life.

The battle was terrible. The two foes clashed and battered at each other, both seemingly unbeatable. More and more people fell as more and more blood flowed from thousands of wounds. The princess looked on, hoping that the blood flowing was not of the good men. But it was. It was, it was, it was. The battle was over, and the princess soon found herself galloping through a forest. She was in a trance and her horse seemed to be gliding across the forest floor. They had no destination. They just wanted to get away. Far away. She held the dragon egg closer.

An arrow flew through the air and made a humming noise because of its sheer speed. It was unstoppable and ubreakable. It ripped through the air. And the horse squirmed and fell. The princess, now on her knees, was surrounded by her mortal foe. Screaming her rage, she held the silver egg high above her head and screamed, “Afdkfdadjco kdogod fhv!” The egg vanished and her body was soon pierced by a myriad of arrows. She fell.

There was no fog on the other side of the mountain range. Instead, the mountains were littered with bright yellow flowers and the soft splashing of streams and tiny waterfalls broke the silence in a most charming manner. Slender deer leapt across meadows and cute rabbits burrowed into holes. The forest was full of life, full of cheer. A gentle line of smoke issued from a cozy cottage. The housewife baking cookies hummed a joyful little tune as she sat next to the oven while knitting a scarf for her lively son that was at this moment hunting in the woods. The family was poor. Very poor.

He had been hunting for days now, but with no success. It seemed that things couldn't get worse for his family. He was desperate. Trudging through the underbush, his labored breathing almost covered up a little popping noise. Quickly turning around, hoping to find a deer, all he saw was a silver rock that he was sure hadn't been there before. It had a most peculiar shape. It looked almost like a large egg. On closer inspection, it turned out that it really was an egg. He brought it to his mother, who was only too happy to see some sort of food at last. She popped it in a pot, and they had a delicious omelette.

And so a banal epic tale was cut tragically short.





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