The intro to my latest story: the butterfly dragon
The Butterfly Dragon
One day on a cold and misty night, when the starlight at last twinkled sparingly through the fog and the moon partly gleamed; it created an almost silver, pulsating smoke of its own. The swamp water bubbled in excitement and a stiff breeze began to rustle the leaves of the plants and the tarry earth rumbled in an alarming way. The silver shifted, swelled and began to form, as this happened the silver turned grey, to green, to blue and at last it faintly glowed a precious golden with a delicate silver lining. Slowly it made a stretched spherical shape with beautiful, elaborate, spiraling patterns like a vine round its hardening shell.
As dawn broke the mist retreated into nothingness and sun shone on every surface. The egg, created by last night’s happening, still sat on the ground, gleaming with the happiness of the morning.
All of a sudden out of the horizon ran a little girl, approximately 12, came running over the lumpy hills, glancing behind her with a frightened expression. Her eyes were a deep green and she was pale from terror. Her clothes were dirty and torn. Her shoes were well-worn and full of holes. Suddenly she tripped, nimble fingers grasping to stop her from tumbling head-over heals, golden hair tied neatly back trailing behind her she then landed with a thud next to the egg.
Her voice was light and bubbly, “Lucky I didn’t land on that,” she gasped, staring at the egg, awestruck by its beauty, “ill of squashed it flat and have egg across my back,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice down. Carefully she placed it in an over-sized egg box and placed it in her leather bag she was carrying over her shoulder and began running again. “this will sell for a good price,” she Soon, back where she came from, a farmer was running after her,
He shouted after her, “You crop-stealing little-” he stopped in mid sentence, something was wrong. Something was completely wrong, nothing, even though he’d been here on many occasions, was familiar.
He had no land-marks to go by and had to turn back; adjusting his straw hat with one hand he went back over the horizon, confusion across his face.
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