The Dragon, now free forever, sat at the edge of the belfry of the giant church. He managed to look a little like a gargoyle. In the modern urban space, life was a little strange and architecture a topsy-turvy avant-garde, so no one quite noticed him. He watched the millions of little humans, so ant like scurrying off to work and sighed, “Scenario one – I come screaming out and scare them all. Or Scenario 2, I turn into a human and prey on them. They don’t even make serious knights now! They turn into good obedient workers instead…sigh.”
The Dragon had been through centuries of warfare, but now it was dangerous to barge into human habitation, what with all kinds of automated shooters. A fire-breathing dragon could get the huffed up General, with a zillion stars on his shoulder to finally try his nuclear arsenal, who knows.
Of course, he would sometimes change forms and become human, and impersonate a general on the loose, trigger of a war and then move on. But that was not fun anymore, especially with the Cold War era ending, and the new enemy of the great state being the terrorist. It as perhaps the most boring time he had ever lived. The humans nowadays preferred staring into the television or intoxicating themselves with something or the other. He was seen either a hallucination or man in a dragon suit; the fire was taken to be advanced pyro-techniques, and applauded. Dull…
Ahead the Dragon looked into the building opposite him, in one of his metamorphosis he had worked there as an elevator man – you know pushing the buttons and reaching the people to their destination. A remarkable amount of people had got missing at that time, and then one bright spark began suspecting that it all happened inside the elevator. The Dragon, changed back….the metamorphosis was good while it lasted, gave him some time to think.
The building had an ad agency, nothing very major, a forgettable one. And it also had a real estate company, who were their clients. Together they created a whole load of nothingness. The time they spend together gaffing, scheming and brain storming, could have been put to better use, like fighting dragons and saving the world for instance. And the money they got paid…the mind boggled.
The Dragon had become a moneylender in one of earlier avatars in Venice. He called himself Cherie Locke, which had been later changed to Shylock. And he had a ball, asking for a pound of flesh from all those who failed to pay. Until of course a women came a ruined his game. “Women,” he thought, and she was a particularly pretty one.
Anyway, he dragged himself back to the present, and looked into the ad agency. Then flew in pretending to be a journalist, to chat with decaying shark teethed owner, they had quite conversation. He was easy to impersonate, so that’s what the Dragon did, only this time he did not eat him up, “too old, too gray, and bad teeth!” Instead, he locked him up in one of dungeons and let him sleep into oblivion.
After this he took charge of the system…his aim to somehow merge these two desperate businesses based on unrealistic aspirations and unsold dreams. “Darling,” he told himself, “It’s a question of space.”
Now looking like the ad agency head honcho, complete with the strange sharkish teeth and unseeming polish, he entered his office post lunch, in an appropriately pompous manner, condescendingly smiling at all those underlings. Some he could see swore under their breath, others ignored him and still others scraped their feet and semi-bowed, almost saluting the space he walked.
The Dragon gave a loud, “Good Morning – and let’s win the world today” and wondered whether employees made good meals. Then decided against it, never eat too close to home. A terrible line crossed his head, “Being a dragon in the twenty first century is a drag!” Yes!!!! He had the makings of a copywriter. And soon enough the real estate campaign was shoved down his nose,
It was followed by a visit from the boss-man of the real estate company. A truly smooth, corporate soul…you could eat him and replace with a robot, nobody would miss him. Then the dragon shook his head, better to go eat a chicken or a goat, inferior humans took their toll on the digestive system.
“I need a corporate image ad,” espoused the real estate space seller, “Every single soul in this city and across the internet should know that I am a man who wants to create healthy and happy spaces. Focus on the swings in the backyard.”
The Dragon smiled, “Go beyond the swing, and think people, think benefits, think trees! Let them think that every building you make is a favor.”
The youngish copywriter piped up, the line, “We change the geometry of the earth.”
“ ….And make it more square! Shh…speak only when you are spoken to!” the Dragon growled back. The young fellow popped back into his own shell.
Then growling again, Dragon smiled as he espoused, “The world order has changeth appease to the conscience - trees free, your soul flies like the wind! ….As the glacier melts; save the penguin from a cold…Make polar bears your friends, not jackets.”
The corporate real estate boss looked as if something cold had slid down his back… “I’m selling real space…money into millions.”
The Dragon smiled, his newly acquired shark teeth looked as if they had seen better days. “Exactly…All we need is a famous line, an attitude….and anyway who gives a damn – as long as they believe that they have got what they want.”
Then he leaned across the real estate boss, “We are all selling something that could disappear and have no meaning in real time.”
“Pshaw…rubbish, just plain bad philosophy….what’s with you today, you are my ad agency. I need ideas, not pontificating,” screamed the real estate boss, his corporate image slipping just a little bit.
“They are all just ideas; no space in any sense is real!” The Dragon said as softly as he could. Then he stared with his dark black fathomless eyes and something happened. It all merged into one, the real space, the new space, print, satellite based media, the internet - and the world outside, became a single dimensioned entity. The young copywriter tried to lance with his ballpoint pen, he could see the dragon regain his wild form. But, he was not a knight. Not even a particularly good writer.
The dragon saw the pool emerge –this dimension had lost its forms and had only one side left- a vast ocean. He went to sit out of it. There was no chaos - the three dimensions were over, even before global warming had come to fore… and there was finally nothing left to sell. As for the humans, there were where the dragon always wanted them, on the Petri dish, ready for closer disdain and observation.
Showing posts with label fantasy dragon stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasy dragon stories. Show all posts
Monday, May 7, 2007
Friday, May 4, 2007
The End of Direction – A short story
It hurts to set you free,
But you'll never follow me,
The end of laughter and soft lies,
The end of nights we tried to die,
but you were never a part of me”
The Doors – This is the End
At the edge of thought…she sat, once a priestess, now a hunter. The noble dragon that she had walked for a while was now gone, chased away by the seeming chains that she never wanted to put on him…she was once again alone. At the edge…everybody is alone…a meek consoling thought.
Walking on the hill, afar the sharp lightening tore the road apart; the priestess felt the sudden death wish. The shining white light, giving a sense of the ending… the dragon would laugh at her fears. She thought about it sometimes, his sudden coming, possessing and then he was gone…on some words. Poof.... vanished….Actually she wondered if he really liked her ever…
He was strange -the dragon, apparently noble, but manipulative. There was righteousness in soul, but cunning in spirit. In a world where creatures like him are hunted down, he knew how to use his wits; survival depended on it….and his had been through a strange life.
Once, the fires of hell had tied him chains. This is how he told the story. “Be warned,” he had begun, “the only way you can free yourself if you find the power to do so.” She would tinkle, “The power is within me,” He would look at her and then away, “No, the power has to be far greater and wiser.”
Long ago, in the forests of the damned, he had lain for a while and carelessly supped. The beauty of the forest had enchanted him. “I could not come out, and got in deeper and deeper,” he said.
The tormentors of the forest had finally tied his willing body in chains and for a while he did not wish to escape from. And that’s when had met the lady in the far away castle, “She simply had to crook a finger at me and I was there. I thought I loved her.”
Hearing this Priestess had laughed, “You noble dragon, you ran to a lady….don’t believe you.” He then showed her the tattoo of his first love, when he was still young, and they had once again laughed, as they lay together. The dragon did not speak about the lady in the castle much, but the one he had tattooed himself for-you could feel the love when he spoke of her. This tattooed, brokenhearted dragon was not the fierce image of a noble beast. But he never gave in to her, neither she had the beauty or power to crook a finger, or the pureness of soul to keep him.
Then he told her more of his story, “I was dragged deeper into the darkness, my nobility exchanged for a few bits of escapism, and the chain was pulled tighter around me. For a while I was a slave.”
Then one day, he found the power to escape, and he flew far. Vowing never to forget his lost freedom…he still wore a chain, on his arm, which at once was a signature of possession and freedom. She never asked him about his past, and he never said anything…you never forget the chains when you are free, but you really never want to talk about them.
The priestess looked once again, and this time she looked into her eyes. Black as coal, fathomless…and somewhere she saw the pain. But she could never ask him….dragons like to keep their distance.
She too had chains, but these were invisible, those that she tied around herself. Made of the ghost of the past, and unable to find the will to escape. A while she sat with her one master, uncomfortable in obedience. Long ago she had sworn allegiance to her master, never thinking that she’d wanted more.
Then in the depth of the night one day she had heard a screech, the dragon had come to her. He had watched for a while from a distance, and in his new freedom coveted her. Life had changed him, and the nobility, was scarred with the need for occasional warmth. He saw it in her, and so they walked for a while.
The dragon wounded by his past, gave up some of his nobility for that little comfort, so though he stayed, he also roamed. And she the serving priestess of another lord, had to let him go, she was not the dragon's, they were just walkers. In his wanderings, he found the world and gained power from it.
The priestess watched joyously as the noble dragon now had begun to spread wings, and went further. He roared fire and made the paths, and soon destiny was made, he even found a purer soul...and became hers. The priestess watched it all, and knew the days of wearied worshiping were drawing close, the dragon was someone else's, and she needed something more.
For the dragon drew away from the priestess. His path was strewn with wars, and so many maidens that he had manipulated to rescue and anyone who tried to make him theirs...he did not want them anymore. The priestess still walked for a while. Though he was now the pure one's. There was no point of jealousy; you can never claim what is not yours.
But now, he was gone, to be free. She watched him leave, as he politely told her, that he could no longer be of service. Hysterically the priestess asked him for his allegiance, "My world depends on you being there." But the dragon swore none, “All allegiance is of convenience. Let us go on separate paths.”
She did not want him to go, but there was very little she could do. The blame was hers, fallen, she suddenly wanted him to redeem her, tell her that she could have been special…but the dragon was not given to love or redemption…. The knights in the realm had wearied him, with their endless battles, some even challenged him to wars, and he had to fight on, simply to stay alive and free from his chains.
Then she became the hunter and set her across the course of freedom. The priestess gave up her chains and her deity. The lord summoned her, “The power to leave is not yours,” he said. She never said a world, but picked her meager arsenal and walked the broader path, telling her lord, "Walk with me as an equal and we can make a newer world." The future was scary, but the dragon had helped her find faith and she knew she could make it. Though he longer wanted to walk with her anymore.
But you'll never follow me,
The end of laughter and soft lies,
The end of nights we tried to die,
but you were never a part of me”
The Doors – This is the End
At the edge of thought…she sat, once a priestess, now a hunter. The noble dragon that she had walked for a while was now gone, chased away by the seeming chains that she never wanted to put on him…she was once again alone. At the edge…everybody is alone…a meek consoling thought.
Walking on the hill, afar the sharp lightening tore the road apart; the priestess felt the sudden death wish. The shining white light, giving a sense of the ending… the dragon would laugh at her fears. She thought about it sometimes, his sudden coming, possessing and then he was gone…on some words. Poof.... vanished….Actually she wondered if he really liked her ever…
He was strange -the dragon, apparently noble, but manipulative. There was righteousness in soul, but cunning in spirit. In a world where creatures like him are hunted down, he knew how to use his wits; survival depended on it….and his had been through a strange life.
Once, the fires of hell had tied him chains. This is how he told the story. “Be warned,” he had begun, “the only way you can free yourself if you find the power to do so.” She would tinkle, “The power is within me,” He would look at her and then away, “No, the power has to be far greater and wiser.”
Long ago, in the forests of the damned, he had lain for a while and carelessly supped. The beauty of the forest had enchanted him. “I could not come out, and got in deeper and deeper,” he said.
The tormentors of the forest had finally tied his willing body in chains and for a while he did not wish to escape from. And that’s when had met the lady in the far away castle, “She simply had to crook a finger at me and I was there. I thought I loved her.”
Hearing this Priestess had laughed, “You noble dragon, you ran to a lady….don’t believe you.” He then showed her the tattoo of his first love, when he was still young, and they had once again laughed, as they lay together. The dragon did not speak about the lady in the castle much, but the one he had tattooed himself for-you could feel the love when he spoke of her. This tattooed, brokenhearted dragon was not the fierce image of a noble beast. But he never gave in to her, neither she had the beauty or power to crook a finger, or the pureness of soul to keep him.
Then he told her more of his story, “I was dragged deeper into the darkness, my nobility exchanged for a few bits of escapism, and the chain was pulled tighter around me. For a while I was a slave.”
Then one day, he found the power to escape, and he flew far. Vowing never to forget his lost freedom…he still wore a chain, on his arm, which at once was a signature of possession and freedom. She never asked him about his past, and he never said anything…you never forget the chains when you are free, but you really never want to talk about them.
The priestess looked once again, and this time she looked into her eyes. Black as coal, fathomless…and somewhere she saw the pain. But she could never ask him….dragons like to keep their distance.
She too had chains, but these were invisible, those that she tied around herself. Made of the ghost of the past, and unable to find the will to escape. A while she sat with her one master, uncomfortable in obedience. Long ago she had sworn allegiance to her master, never thinking that she’d wanted more.
Then in the depth of the night one day she had heard a screech, the dragon had come to her. He had watched for a while from a distance, and in his new freedom coveted her. Life had changed him, and the nobility, was scarred with the need for occasional warmth. He saw it in her, and so they walked for a while.
The dragon wounded by his past, gave up some of his nobility for that little comfort, so though he stayed, he also roamed. And she the serving priestess of another lord, had to let him go, she was not the dragon's, they were just walkers. In his wanderings, he found the world and gained power from it.
The priestess watched joyously as the noble dragon now had begun to spread wings, and went further. He roared fire and made the paths, and soon destiny was made, he even found a purer soul...and became hers. The priestess watched it all, and knew the days of wearied worshiping were drawing close, the dragon was someone else's, and she needed something more.
For the dragon drew away from the priestess. His path was strewn with wars, and so many maidens that he had manipulated to rescue and anyone who tried to make him theirs...he did not want them anymore. The priestess still walked for a while. Though he was now the pure one's. There was no point of jealousy; you can never claim what is not yours.
But now, he was gone, to be free. She watched him leave, as he politely told her, that he could no longer be of service. Hysterically the priestess asked him for his allegiance, "My world depends on you being there." But the dragon swore none, “All allegiance is of convenience. Let us go on separate paths.”
She did not want him to go, but there was very little she could do. The blame was hers, fallen, she suddenly wanted him to redeem her, tell her that she could have been special…but the dragon was not given to love or redemption…. The knights in the realm had wearied him, with their endless battles, some even challenged him to wars, and he had to fight on, simply to stay alive and free from his chains.
Then she became the hunter and set her across the course of freedom. The priestess gave up her chains and her deity. The lord summoned her, “The power to leave is not yours,” he said. She never said a world, but picked her meager arsenal and walked the broader path, telling her lord, "Walk with me as an equal and we can make a newer world." The future was scary, but the dragon had helped her find faith and she knew she could make it. Though he longer wanted to walk with her anymore.
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