The Woman Who Confronted a Dragon

 There was once a dragon, fearsome and deadly, who was horribly cruel to a tiny village.

    Each day the dragon came out of his cave that lay in a crag atop a stony mountain and burned a field. First the wheat crop, then the barley, next the tomato harvest, and then the strawberries. Soon the villagers would have no food left.

    And so the village gathered.

    The men talked. And talked. Of climbing the mountain with pitchforks, of making a treaty they could ill afford with rampaging knights, of moving away from the village to settle anew...

    Consideration after consideration was offered. Yet there was no resolve.

    All the while, a new day was fast approaching.

    Finally a woman left the village, climbed the stony mountain, and dared to venture into the cave where sat the dragon, breathing the fumes that were all that was left from the day's burning.

    She asked the dragon a question. 

    'Why?'

    The dragon looked at her. Perhaps it was the vehemence of the question, or perhaps fearsome dragons can see into the hearts of women, but her small, simple question was so true, so pure, so unadulterated with a tinge of anything, save sorrow, concern, and heavy dose of anger, that the dragon realized immediately the gravity of what it was he had done.

    And he could not bring himself to face the sheer strength of her hallowed, angry heart.

    Thus, he flew away, never to return. 

    For even a fearsome dragon must cower in the face of true anger.

Popular posts from this blog

The Library at the Edge of the Universe

 There was, of course, a library at the edge of the universe. It was built to fit the space. That space, for the moment, was infinite. But it was the kind of infinite that was smaller than other kinds of infinite — both space and libraries are funny that way.     This library had an agenda. Most do. But this one's was more specific than most. It wanted to hold all the books in the universe, whether they liked it or not. And it got the books by poking and prodding the universe in all kinds of different ways, until it gave up the literary ghost. Well, all the literary ghosts.     So. There sat a library at the edge of space that housed all the books in the universe. It mostly sat, anyway. Sometimes it stood. Occasionally it stretched a bit. And on two occasions, yawns were recorded as galaxies doing a funny little seismic shift.     It might yawn again. In an eon or two.     Because it is waiting.     It's been waiting for an infinite amount of time. One of the smaller infinites
Read more

The Shadows

The light shown on Anya’s fingers. It curled around her palm and danced. This, she thought, was the sheer pleasure of having magic.       But in the midst of her play, a shadow grew.   It was not unexpected; it was the cost of doing magic, for it always begot shadows.   But it never ceased to offer discomfort.   If she could find a way to practice her craft and leave behind the adjacent darkness, she would.          Anya was not fond of the dark, or shadows, or of the sense of unease that grew whenever she let the flickering brightness dance.   But, too, there was a feeling of wholeness in her work.   How could that be, such fulfillment when darkness lay about her?   A constant wonder—the weight of it only born by extinguishing the light for a time until she could bear it again.       Today was such a time.          Anya took the light, and threw it at the darkness.   The next breath, and it was gone.   Elimination brought palpable relief, while at the same time she felt the loss of
Read more

As Usual

 Once upon a time, when the air was colder and the nights more dark, a fire gleamed in the distance.      It moved and crept and finally it swept, the whole world engulfed in it's flames.     When the flames died, all that remained was char. For a time.     Until the first shoot rose. The thought of fire died a death made only by forgetting.     And, as usual, the world went on.
Read more