His cave is littered with skeletons and the charred remnants of shields and swords. He never wanted it to go down this way though. He’s so lonely. He just wants to be friends with the villagers. But they always attack him, he tries to hold back and inevitably he has to fight back.
People always die and the dragon lumbers back inside his cave and just sobs and sobs and sobs.
Azure moon shadows rippling water
ashen clouds sail on night tide winds.
Fishing boats drift on currents
hoping to steal away catches under nights veil.
Below the waves barbels twitch
eyes pick up fragmented moon beams.
Serpentine forms rise from slumber
rush to the surface shattering the plane
plumes of water fracture reveal august dragons
fishermen try to sail away.
Dragon fire flares blaze in darkness
flaming barges slam into shorelines
incinerated wrecks disintegrate
slip below the waterline.
Survivors dragged below and devoured
azure moon obscured by ashen clouds.
Cirrus clouds float on night tide currents, obscuring the azure moon.
On the water’s surface fishermen steal into the river. They all know this is the best place to fish. The trout here are the largest in all the land and to only catch a few represents a good catch.
The nets are cast and soon streams of rainbow scales are hauled aboard, thumping onto wooden decks. Over head the clouds begin to clear. A rookie becomes nervous and looks towards an elder fisherman. With his grey beard emerging from below a conical hat he nods and in that instant part of the flotilla breaks away, exiting the river. Some even toss half of their catch over board, as a peace-offering. Many fishers stay though, some through in experience, others driven by greed.
In the abyssal depths barbels begin to quiver. Moon beams usually uninterrupted land on the lake bed fragmented, picked up by searing eyes. Arising from slumber serpentine forms uncoil, charge forth and fracture the plane.
The fishermen recoil as plumes of water burst forth and dissipate, august dragons loom over boats. Scales waxen in the moonlight, manes dripping with water as barbels hang downwards. Fins flare out, eyes seething with rage.
The fishermen try to sail away but it’s too late. Mouths fill with flame, flicker in the dark. Dragon fire flares blaze in the blackness, dancing over the water before shattering fishing boats, explosions scorch the night air. Flaming barges drift across the river slamming into shore lines, incinerated wrecks splintering on the ripples, slipping below the water line. Survivors are dragged below to be devoured.
In the distance a village watches what appears to be a display of lanterns and fireworks. The bright lights illumine their night, filling them with happiness.
Some bits of the last pieces two pieces bother me, so feedback is welcomed. Also this is the only update cause this week I had my second crack at the poetry reading and this time I did it. Which is pretty good.