Stories off the internet and from friends.
The Crystal Snare, By Christine G.
~-~ I suppose you think that being a dragon is easy. In your imagination, we are mindless monsters set on destroying anything in our path, foul serpents to be slaughtered with great honour and no guilt, not to mention the acquisition of our hoard. But, except for our unfortunate weakness for burdening ourselves with treasure we can never use, all that you think of us is false. Large carnivores are ever vilified thus by those who fear they might become their next meal.
We are neither lizards nor mythological beings, as is generally supposed. We do not breathe flame - the fires were caused by panic-stricken villagers upsetting their lamps and scattering their cooking fires. Our blood runs warm as yours; we are male and female; we love and hate and grieve and dance as you do. Have you ever seen a dragon dance?
No, of course not. The time for understanding is past. Our kind is extinct on your earth. All that remains are the stories and the dreams. And the Crystals.
We came here in time unimaginable, to colonize this planet, and to care for it. According to our tales, all was well until the Great Disaster, when the face of the earth changed. She spawned new creatures, including your kind, and the wars began.
We are a long-lived species - some have seen ten thousand orbits of this planet - but we reproduce rarely and our young take long to mature. Their curiosity and sense of adventure leads them into disaster before they even suspect any danger. On the other hand, the individuals of your species last only for an eyeblink, but you breed with enthusiasm and go to any length to exercise dominion over all else.
At first, we strove to control your population - no doubt that is why you came to think so badly of us. But we do not glory in the shedding of blood as you do. We soon sickened of the killing, withdrew into the most isolated caves that we could find, and allowed nature to take her course.
But I waste myself harping on what is beyond mending. The nineteen of us who survived the extermination have locked our essences safely in the Crystals now, amusing ourselves as best we can. Our beacons silently send out their signals, waiting to be found by our people when they return.
The others are grouped in twos of threes. I prefer solitude - or so I believed - and opted to occupy this blue crystal alone. How could I anticipate the horror of being the sole creator and sustainer of a universe? Anything was mine for the thinking. Anything, that is, except unpredictability.
At first I occupied myself creating wondrous universes, inventing tales, and changing my own form. But the time came when I simply existed, helpless in my omnipotence. I dreamed only of the day when a ship would find the Crystals and take us to the Homeworld to be re-infused into new bodies.
After many forevers, a light shone through my Crystal, inviting me to project my image outside. I emerged, words tumbling over each other, and came face to face with a young human female.
I was in a small disordered chamber, scattered with artifacts such as I had never seen. My Crystal was on a desk, illuminated by the beam of a lighting instrument. Strange noises poured from a soundbox. She told me later that she had been shining her flashlight through various objects, and thought that perhaps my crystal would create a blue rainbow.
She gasped and ran away, clutching her light beam. But it was not long before her curiosity drew her back. When she summoned me the second time, she did not flee. She perched tautly on the edge of her chair, staring at me, while I emanated calming mind-waves and pondered ways of making myself less distressing to her.
When her breathing had slowed, I attempted a more sophisticated mind-message. "Greetings. I mean you no harm."
She seemed to understand, and a question floated to me, not consciously asked, but overshadowing her entire awareness:
"Am I imagining this?"
"No - I am real," I replied. "If you will allow me to explore your mind, I will be able to communicate more efficiently."
She snapped off the light, and I was drawn back into the Crystal. As I waited, torn between joy and dread, I sought to prepare myself for our next encounter by re-creating the chamber I had seen and attempting to deduce something of the language and customs of the era. The images on the walls suggested that you humans had acquired some inkling of the possibility of space craft, but had not yet created a workable design. Neither, it seemed, had you discovered a way to limit your population or spare other species. When my people return, what will they find? Perhaps we will once again be able to establish a colony here.
In time, the young female - you know her as "Anne" - lost her fear sufficiently to allow me to enter her mind and learn her language. She was as lonely as I. She and her progenitors had recently re-located from a great distance, and she was pining for family and friends left behind, especially a large domestic quadruped called "Shane", who was notpermitted in her new domicile.
It was her fondness for Shane that eventually induced her to enter the Crystal. I explained that she could re-create him, and everything would be as if he were truly present. Her longing to touch him and play with him overcame all her reservations, and she allowed me to draw her into my universe.
She was delighted at first. She celebrated a glorious reunion with all she had lost. When she tired of that, she began to construct her favourite tales, with herself as heroine, laughing with joy that she was finally as beautiful and wise and honoured as she had always longed to be. It was a great pleasure for me, too, to participate in someone else's creation.
Abruptly she paused. All returned to blankness, except for the blue of the Crystal and the image of her parents and her brother, calling her with worry in their voices.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"There is no time here," I said soothingly. Half-truths are sometimes necessary.
"I must go back."
"You did not finish the tale of the swan princess," I coaxed. "Let us do that first."
But she was not so easily led. "No! I want to go home!"
I told her then that her physical body had reverted to its component atoms, finer than dust. There was no way back until one of our ships found us. Even if she chose to be re-infused into a new body on the Homeworld, it was most unlikely that she would ever be returned to earth.
She turned herself into a huge golden dragon then, and charged at me ferociously. I allowed myself to bleed and cried out piteously to win her sympathy, but she knew it was a
sham. Unsubstantial as we are, we cannot be damaged.
"Why didn't you tell me the truth?" she shrieked.
"I could not bear to lose you."
She erased her physical form and hid her thoughts from me.
"We are deities here!" I pleaded. "Anything you want is yours!"
"I want my family."
I created them for her, but she turned away.
"This isn't real!" she said, her head down.
`` "It is as real as the life you knew," I pointed out. But she was in no mood to debate the philosophical concepts of reality, and kept silent for a long time.
"Why did you do it?" she asked at last.
"I was lonely."
"How can you be lonely?" she stormed. "You can create all the companions you want!"
"Yes. But they cannot choose to be my friends."
In time she recovered from her rage and we played together again, but the freshness was gone. I almost regretted what I had done, but any anguish was better than the empty weariness I had known before.
Not long after, the light beamed again.
"Let me go out," she said.
"Of course." She was better equipped than I to deal with this new world I had never known.
"It's just my dumb brother," she announced when she returned. "He always was a snoop."
I waited.
"I want to ask him to come in," she said.
"I thought you hated him," I protested mildly, veiling my excitement.
"I do. But I sort of miss him bugging me."
"Will you tell him the truth?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Some of it."
You are the fourth to join our group. Do not grieve: you are a god now, deathless and omnipotent for as long as the crystal lattice maintains its configuration. We have created a universe of delights for you to explore; when you tire of it, we will help you create another. Omnipotence is so much more diverting when it is shared.
Perhaps, as the aeons flow by and our number grows, we will eventually muster sufficient inventiveness to find a way to imbue our creatures with a will of their own. Then boredom will be a thing of the past, and we may reign contentedly until the great re-gathering of our kind.~-~
The Fire Dragon - Fantasy Story involving Beowulf
~_~I had slept in a vast stone tower, and there was a hidden path beneath it. One day a man came upon this path and found the entrance to my tower. He entered, and discovered my ancient treasure. This was not just an ordinary “treasure”, my father had defeated 12 Viking ships with thousands of men to get to this treasure, in which was passed down to me. Treasures, of Pagan jewels and gold that I have been guarding all my life. They were mine, and no one was to take that from me. Little did the man know that I was aware of when he intruded into my home and stole a shining vibrant gem- studded cup.
I was angry, and I wasn’t going to let this Geat get away- and I was to let all of Geatland know… I fled and swept through the darkness, and all of Geatland; I was to leave nothing alive. I burned down all their homes, and I was quite amused to see the horror on the Geats faces as they continuously stared in dismay. I made it known for miles and miles that I was filled with anger and hate. I hurried back to my tower and to my treasures before dawn.
The King of the Geats was notified at once. Beowulf, not only a king, but a phenomenal warrior, a great nobleman and completely unstoppable. But this was all when he was a young lad. There WILL be an end to him this time. He is nothing but an old man now. Beowulf hasn’t fought battle in years! His power means nothing to me. I was prepared for him to arrive.
A few short sun-hours later Beowulf arrived. I was asleep in my lair guarding my treasures, when I awoke to this repulsive roaring cry. I arose, angry, knowing/feeling the sense that Beowulf was there, and there would be war! I breathed a cloud of steaming smoggy smoke that made the Earth shake. Beowulf stood there with his shield in front of him. My heart was urging for battle. I went closer to him, looked deep into his eyes and saw he was just as ready as I, but he just stood there. I made the first move- quickly, swiftly moving towards him, breathing out fire and smoke. My flames beat at the iron shield. It protected Beowulf just as he planed; but after a while the shield began to melt. Beowulf then realized that for the first time in his life, Fate was against him. He knew what he had to do, and he raised his sword and struck it into my scaly hide. The blade broke, it only cracked my skin, drew a little blood, but his sword had failed him. I leaped towards him, thrashing, and beating at him, spewing continuous flames everywhere.
Beowulf had fell back, so I went at him once more, and watched as he suffered, wrapping him in my swirling burning flames. He was a beaten warrior, and no one there was to accompany him. All his “brave” noblemen fled to the wood -scared…except one remained. He went by the name Wiglaf, so of Wexstan- a Swedish warrior. Wiglaf ran through my dancing deadly flames to the suffering King. He chose words that tried to encourage Beowulf. I grew a stronger sense of anger; and I went for Wiglaf. Waves of wandering fire danced at his shield. His armor could not help him, nor could his shield- for it was burned to ashes. Wiglaf jumped behind Beowulf’s shield. Beowulf gained a minor strength back and took what was left of his mangled sword, and smashed it into my head, but again it broke into pieces. I knew I had the both of them… I charged once more, spewing more fire wildly moving, rushing out- twas fearful and dreadful. At the first chance- I drove my tusks into Beowulf’s neck; wounded, the blood came pouring forth, falling like rain. One down, one to go I thought. Excited and thrilled I forgot all about Wiglaf for a split second, and he strike lower down, and the sword sank into me. I began to feel weak, my breathing flames began to die and I knew this was it. At least I defeated and killed the king. But I was still angry that I let a Geat get to me- Just as I was falling weaker and weaker, to my surprise Beowulf drew a battle sharp dagger into me- I let out one last cry and cloud of fiery smoke, and he cut me in half- completely split apart. I never felt such a feeling before, not so much painful, but fearful. Fearful of death, fear of not defeating all of the Geats and fear of losing my treasures- my pride- my home…. My body fell heavy, no longer able to move, I fell- fell to the feet of the courage of two noble cousins that had joined in my death…~-~
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