Dragonflight

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                           Snapshot #26
                           Dragonflight
                            (f, fant)
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              (c) September 2000 - All Rights Reserved
                Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)
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It was a rare Dragon of fiery crimson, its leathery scales
reflecting the fading light of the setting sun. Powerful wings, like
the fury of Hermes, fought against the turbulence of the skies as it
flew swiftly over the moors below.
She sat naked upon the coolness of the headstone, waiting, her face
uplifted to the scarlet  sky. Her deep brown eyes tracked the
crimson beast as it crossed in silhouette the glowing disk of the
far off star that sat low and heavy on the horizon. Her thin arms
wrapped around her knees, hugging her legs to her breasts tightly,
warded off the nightchill that was approaching as swiftly as the
Dragon. She shivered in spite of herself.
... if you ride upon the Dragon ...
Its song touched the fringes of her mind before its features became
clear to her eyes. She shivered again, automatically resisting the
intrusion of its closeness, its Siren song. But unlike the Harpies
of myth, the Dragon exuded its unconscious, soothing song in
response to her unease, not to ensnare. She understood the intent
somewhere deep in her heart. She abandoned her resistance as swiftly
as instinct had produced it.
Slowly, she rose to her bare feet to greet the creature, the course
grass insistently tickling. She swallowed once, realising that her
tongue was dry. She touched her lips gently with the tip of her
tongue. Her eyes warily observed as the creature settled in front of
her, its expanse nearly as light and delicate as down.
It was far larger than the horses to which she was more accustomed.
The dragon-song intensified briefly in her mind as she suddenly
fought the urge to turn and flee. The Dragon tilted its head to the
side in an unexpectedly human gesture, its eyes fascinated by her
pale features. The song softly faded from her consciousness; her
feet remained stationary.
Its gaze held an intelligence as ancient as she was young. Torn
between destiny and past, she slowly turned away from the Dragon.
The ageless monoliths behind her impassively observed her tiny
drama. The headstone, upon which she had perched, regarded her,
silently calling out, tugging at her, reminding her of what had
been.
Slowly, she raised her arms like a future ballerina embracing all of
the heavens. She had called the Dragon in this sacred place --
desire, understanding.
As she slowly completed her pirouette, her eyes re-captured the
creature. Comprehension melded their being. One crimson tear traced
down the Dragon's features to drop onto the moor at her bare feet.
"Yes," she whispered.
... you can never get off ...
As the sun retreated below the horizon, the full moon rose to
embrace the night. The Dragon's scales were surprisingly soft and
warm beneath her bare thighs and calves. Her arms encircled its
great neck as the wind whipped her long brunette hair playfully
about her shoulders. Together, they rose to catch the beckoning,
bright orb overhead. Though she knew they would never reach the
heavens, destiny had brought her here. She would ride the Dragon.
She turned to gaze one last time at the retreating, moonlit,
brooding circle of stone as Dragon and girl rose together as one
into the still night.
Forever is a long time, she thought.