Post by CarnivorousMoogle on Dec 2, 2009 22:07:47 GMT -5
Heyas! I'm new here, and I love writing, so here I am! This short story is about my pygmy, who (in my mind anyway) never grew his wings. Hope you enjoy it!
~~~~~~~
The sky. A breathtaking, terrifying, all-encompassing cerulean realm; a place that drew him and petrified him.
It is very dark, and warm, and there is a comfortable feeling of being closed in, wrapped in something firm and yet soft at the same time. He is safe and happy.
A booming, haughty voice sounds, and though he cannot understand the gibberish it is saying, and will not remember it later, he feels the urge to laugh at how puffed-up and silly it seems.
"Great Spirit Dragon, is it a dragon egg or a chicken egg?"
A soft shushing noise; a quieter, gentler voice, that gives no impression of being a dragon.
"Shhh, it might hear you, Vhirn."
"How on earth could it hear me? It's an egg, for goodness' sake!"
"Really? Remember how Evanin learned her first swear word?"
A strange chuckle; a not-unpleasantly squeaky voice, ironic and yet carefree. He likes it instantly.
"I remember, all right; Marcavalo, Doujo Ryuu, Kudzu, Ariciare, and Vasca set up a tripwire in the nursery, as their last hatchling prank. And who walked in but one of the senior citizens of the cave!"
A huff.
"I'm not a senior citizen, Makrida. Really, the nonsense you spout sometimes..."
"Actually, she's right; you're one of the first four dragons I adopted."
"Well, I'm certainly no more of a senior than she; she was the first!"
"Either way, we all know what Evie's first word was."
Muffled giggling; another huff. The gentle voice again.
"We should leave the eggs alone for now; we're probably disturbing them, and it's almost time for lunch anyway..."
And then the voices become quieter, and move away, leaving him to the darkness and comfort of his own little space, and he is happy for the time being.
He had always been fascinated with it. The Big Ol' Blue, The Walls of the World, Mr. Blue, True Freedom, Heaven's Front Yard; he had heard it called many names in his life, by many different creatures. The thought of such a vast expanse of air, of nothing, made his heart pound with fear and curiosity.
He is no longer warm, comfortable, enshrouded in darkness. In fact, he is quite cold and miserable, and the strange subterranean glow from the enchanted rocks spread around the cave hurts his unaccustomed eyes. The sharp edges of his shell prick and press into his skin, and he is slimy and wet. His lips tremble, and he nearly begins to wail, until his attention is drawn away from his misery by the sudden realization that he is not alone. Two other eggs lay nearby, one glowing orange, the other a homey, earthy green. He instinctively scoots closer to the green one; it makes him feel safer in this strange, cold, bright new world, and the orange one stirs a deep aversion in his tiny, newhatched soul.
There is a stirring at the entrance, and he stumbles back with a squeak of panic. A huge creature stands there, menacing, silver-and-blue, with burning yellow eyes and huge wings. The end of its tail is enormous, big enough to block the doorway to the cave. It gives him a startled look, and then speaks in a pleasant, bass voice.
"Oh, hello there! I see you've hatched! Come here, little one; you need to get dry, or you'll catch hypothermia. Honestly, I wish those red dragons would put a littlemore care into the heating system..."
He simply stares, shivering, his tiny heart pounding, wondering when this creature would snap him up in its jaws.
The creature sighs. "Oh, right; you can't understand me. I always forget that hatchlings aren't born with speech. Silly me."
Suddenly, it reaches out a massive paw and scoops the miniscule hatchling into the curve of one of its wings. He lets out a cry and struggles, biting and clawing for all that he's worth. The huge creature holds him still for a few minutes, murmuring soothingly; very slowly, he calms down and begins to relax.
The monster begins to lick the slime from his tiny body. "Better get you cleaned up," it says, as he panics again for a moment.
He soon gets used to this as well, however; and before long, he is drifting off to sleep.
It's a puzzle to him, really; he's never understood exactly how any creature can stay in the air for long, without hitting the slightest little eddy in the winds and being blown about willy-nilly, pummeled by the air currents. He's had nightmares more than once, about the wind rushing through the caves and blowing him and everyone he knows and loves into the sky, slamming them into the earth and lifting them up again, crushing them to death...
He is perched on a rock, jutting high above the forest surrounding their cave. He watches his nestmates fly about, looping and diving and playing with eachother, enjoying every airborne moment. They are carrying two slightly younger hatchlings on their backs; the little creatures occasionally let out a woop.
The third young hatchling, of the daydream breed, slips up quietly beside him. "Do you wish to fly with them?" it asks, in a small, strange, lilting voice. It looks at him with faded blue eyes.
He shakes his head once. "No. No, I don't want to. Why should I? All it is is an extra mile or so that you can see. Nothing really special there." Despite his words, he feels more keenly aware than ever of the unadorned area of his back and shoulders.
The daydream shrugs. "It's true that no-one is an incomplete being without wings; many seem to think otherwise. I have a feeling that you have a bit more of an opinion on the matter than you would care for anyone to believe, Darieto."
His face darkens. "What would you know about it? You've been able to fly since you were hatched," he says bitterly.
The daydream, sensing that it is not welcome here and now, climbs back onto its cloud. "I have," it says softly. "And I have yet find any sense of completion thus far."
It turns to leave; it floats a few feet towards the forest, when it is stopped by a plaintive, quiet speaking of its name.
"Dreaming?"
It turns to look at him.
A wistful look clouds his face. "What's it like?"
He feels a desperate want for the sky. He wants to touch it, to revel in it, to see it around him and feel it rushing by.
He wants, more than anything, to soar.
~~~~~~~
Hooray for intense writing sessions! XD
Well, what did you guys think? Sorry if it isn't that great quality; I'm tired, and a little rushed for time. But I'm happy, because my writing juices are flowing again at last! -cracks knuckles-
Opinions, please!
~~~~~~~
The sky. A breathtaking, terrifying, all-encompassing cerulean realm; a place that drew him and petrified him.
It is very dark, and warm, and there is a comfortable feeling of being closed in, wrapped in something firm and yet soft at the same time. He is safe and happy.
A booming, haughty voice sounds, and though he cannot understand the gibberish it is saying, and will not remember it later, he feels the urge to laugh at how puffed-up and silly it seems.
"Great Spirit Dragon, is it a dragon egg or a chicken egg?"
A soft shushing noise; a quieter, gentler voice, that gives no impression of being a dragon.
"Shhh, it might hear you, Vhirn."
"How on earth could it hear me? It's an egg, for goodness' sake!"
"Really? Remember how Evanin learned her first swear word?"
A strange chuckle; a not-unpleasantly squeaky voice, ironic and yet carefree. He likes it instantly.
"I remember, all right; Marcavalo, Doujo Ryuu, Kudzu, Ariciare, and Vasca set up a tripwire in the nursery, as their last hatchling prank. And who walked in but one of the senior citizens of the cave!"
A huff.
"I'm not a senior citizen, Makrida. Really, the nonsense you spout sometimes..."
"Actually, she's right; you're one of the first four dragons I adopted."
"Well, I'm certainly no more of a senior than she; she was the first!"
"Either way, we all know what Evie's first word was."
Muffled giggling; another huff. The gentle voice again.
"We should leave the eggs alone for now; we're probably disturbing them, and it's almost time for lunch anyway..."
And then the voices become quieter, and move away, leaving him to the darkness and comfort of his own little space, and he is happy for the time being.
He had always been fascinated with it. The Big Ol' Blue, The Walls of the World, Mr. Blue, True Freedom, Heaven's Front Yard; he had heard it called many names in his life, by many different creatures. The thought of such a vast expanse of air, of nothing, made his heart pound with fear and curiosity.
He is no longer warm, comfortable, enshrouded in darkness. In fact, he is quite cold and miserable, and the strange subterranean glow from the enchanted rocks spread around the cave hurts his unaccustomed eyes. The sharp edges of his shell prick and press into his skin, and he is slimy and wet. His lips tremble, and he nearly begins to wail, until his attention is drawn away from his misery by the sudden realization that he is not alone. Two other eggs lay nearby, one glowing orange, the other a homey, earthy green. He instinctively scoots closer to the green one; it makes him feel safer in this strange, cold, bright new world, and the orange one stirs a deep aversion in his tiny, newhatched soul.
There is a stirring at the entrance, and he stumbles back with a squeak of panic. A huge creature stands there, menacing, silver-and-blue, with burning yellow eyes and huge wings. The end of its tail is enormous, big enough to block the doorway to the cave. It gives him a startled look, and then speaks in a pleasant, bass voice.
"Oh, hello there! I see you've hatched! Come here, little one; you need to get dry, or you'll catch hypothermia. Honestly, I wish those red dragons would put a littlemore care into the heating system..."
He simply stares, shivering, his tiny heart pounding, wondering when this creature would snap him up in its jaws.
The creature sighs. "Oh, right; you can't understand me. I always forget that hatchlings aren't born with speech. Silly me."
Suddenly, it reaches out a massive paw and scoops the miniscule hatchling into the curve of one of its wings. He lets out a cry and struggles, biting and clawing for all that he's worth. The huge creature holds him still for a few minutes, murmuring soothingly; very slowly, he calms down and begins to relax.
The monster begins to lick the slime from his tiny body. "Better get you cleaned up," it says, as he panics again for a moment.
He soon gets used to this as well, however; and before long, he is drifting off to sleep.
It's a puzzle to him, really; he's never understood exactly how any creature can stay in the air for long, without hitting the slightest little eddy in the winds and being blown about willy-nilly, pummeled by the air currents. He's had nightmares more than once, about the wind rushing through the caves and blowing him and everyone he knows and loves into the sky, slamming them into the earth and lifting them up again, crushing them to death...
He is perched on a rock, jutting high above the forest surrounding their cave. He watches his nestmates fly about, looping and diving and playing with eachother, enjoying every airborne moment. They are carrying two slightly younger hatchlings on their backs; the little creatures occasionally let out a woop.
The third young hatchling, of the daydream breed, slips up quietly beside him. "Do you wish to fly with them?" it asks, in a small, strange, lilting voice. It looks at him with faded blue eyes.
He shakes his head once. "No. No, I don't want to. Why should I? All it is is an extra mile or so that you can see. Nothing really special there." Despite his words, he feels more keenly aware than ever of the unadorned area of his back and shoulders.
The daydream shrugs. "It's true that no-one is an incomplete being without wings; many seem to think otherwise. I have a feeling that you have a bit more of an opinion on the matter than you would care for anyone to believe, Darieto."
His face darkens. "What would you know about it? You've been able to fly since you were hatched," he says bitterly.
The daydream, sensing that it is not welcome here and now, climbs back onto its cloud. "I have," it says softly. "And I have yet find any sense of completion thus far."
It turns to leave; it floats a few feet towards the forest, when it is stopped by a plaintive, quiet speaking of its name.
"Dreaming?"
It turns to look at him.
A wistful look clouds his face. "What's it like?"
He feels a desperate want for the sky. He wants to touch it, to revel in it, to see it around him and feel it rushing by.
He wants, more than anything, to soar.
~~~~~~~
Hooray for intense writing sessions! XD
Well, what did you guys think? Sorry if it isn't that great quality; I'm tired, and a little rushed for time. But I'm happy, because my writing juices are flowing again at last! -cracks knuckles-
Opinions, please!