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Rated: E · Other · Fantasy · #1450679
This is a simple excerpt from my book-in-the-making, Arthas.
Arthas dreamt of the stone. He stood in his room, and the stone had been glowing completely white. Then, the stone transformed into something else. It completely altered its shape into something that looked like an animal. It shined brightly with a white aura. But then the scene disappeared, and he stood on the edge of a cliff. He ceased have any control over his body, and fell off. There was no bottom, and the sudden shock of fear woke him up.
He found himself lying on his side, with the stone right beside his head. He stretched his legs out, yawned in his bed while he rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up. He picked up his ever-mysterious rock and rolled it in his hands. “Why do I keep on having these dreams?” He groaned and scratched his head. “Why can’t I have just a normal dream?”
Suddenly, Arthas dropped the stone onto the floor with a small ‘thump’ on impact. Arthas bit his lip, and squeezed his right hand tightly. The stone had become extremely hot and Arthas kept his mouth tightly shut during his scream as he rolled in agony.
“Stupid rock!” He hissed.
The stone rocked back and forth abruptly.
“What the-”
‘Crack’
‘Snap’
The stone began to split down the center. Arthas backed up to the wall. Then, there was the sound similar to a tree crackling and falling before the stone blew itself apart.
Some of the pieces cut Arthas as they soared across his room. But Arthas almost didn’t even feel the cuts. His mind wasn’t fixed on the pieces and his cuts, but on what was right in front of him.
The sight was astounding. It was an animal of some sort. The white moonlight had not reached the right angle to light the room, thus he couldn’t tell what color it was, nor see whether it was feathers or scales on it. It squirmed and whimpered like any infant would on the floor.
Arthas reached out and touched its head.
It abruptly stopped squirming, and Arthas could see its eyes; round and red, as innocent as a baby. The beast had a snout, and the eyebrows were bulging skin. On the eyebrows; scales or feathers, whatever they were, made small ridges across on each brow resembling hair. The belly and the front side of the neck were connected by large plates that reminded Arthas of scale armor.
The animal rolled over and stood on all four legs. But since it was a newborn, its legs collapsed several times before it could finally catch its balance.
“What are you?” Arthas murmured to the animal. He looked at its sides and noticed something. He crawled slowly over to its left side and looked at it closely. The moon gave little light; alas he could only see the shadows of things.
The beast didn’t move anything save for its neck to look at Arthas. Arthas glanced at the beasts face. Its eyes locked with Arthas’s. When he shifted over to look at its side, he found out what it was he noticed. They were wings! Folded wings!
Arthas’s stomach twisted. He searched for other evidence of what he thought it might be. There was a long tail, talon-like paws, and small bumps along its spine. 
“Y-you’re a dragon!” Arthas blurted out. He reached his hand out to feel the dragon. He then stopped at a point, waiting for the dragon’s approval. The dragon sniffed Arthas’s hand, and then its head cocked which showed alertness. Arthas’s arm whipped back. “What is it?” Arthas whispered to the dragon as if it could understand him.
There was a growl/gurgle sound from the dragon’s stomach.
“Hungry?” Arthas crept out and cut off a small slice of the salted deer with his hunting knife. After doing so, he slowly crept back into his room and silently closed his brown curtains over his door frame.
His room smelled ever so weird. It smelled like smoke. That strong, fetid yet acceptable smell that seemed like it was sharp when it’s in your nose.
There was no smoke that Arthas could see. He knew it would’ve been the dragon’s fault if smoke was present.
Distracted by the smell, he almost forgot what he was doing before. That is, until the little dragon nudged his ankle and purred. “There you are.” Arthas bent down to the dragon’s level, and held out the food he had fetched for it. “Here you go, little dragon.”
The baby dragon looked at Arthas with big eyes that were full of curiosity. It slanted its head, and then cocked it again. It smelled it, and then withdrew into a shadowy corner of his room.
“What? Don’t like the smell of salt? Sorry, but it’s all I got.” Arthas waved the slice around, attempting to tease it.
The dragon drew itself out of the shadows of his room. The moonlight that shined through the window in his room reflected off of the right side of the dragon, and left the other side dark.
Its nails clicked the floor as it walked towards the sliver of salted deer. The Dragon couldn’t even walk in a straight line. But he knew that not even a newborn animal of any sort could walk on its first hour from birth, and thus he assured himself nothing was wrong at this point in time.
Arthas continued to wave the Dragon’s meal to and fro in order to keep beckoning the Dragon towards its first meal.
The Dragon sniffed it, and finally took a bite. After its first taste the dragon eagerly wrenched the slice out of Arthas’s hand. The dragon chewed swiftly and swallowed it in a matter of seconds. After doing so, the dragon shook like a dog would after it gets wet and produced out an outlandish sharp cry. The cry sounded like a dog’s growl with a purr behind that, alongside with a snake’s hiss in the background.
Arthas placed his index finger over the dragon’s mouth, and his other index finger over his own. “Sssh! You’ll wake my dad up!” He hissed at the dragon.
The Dragon looked at Arthas’s finger with a child’s expression of curiosity. However as curious as the dragon was, it had the attention span of a fly. The Dragon lost interest in Arthas, and shifted its head around him. It slightly opened its mouth, showing an array of sharp black teeth and scampered past Arthas toward whatever had caught its attention.
*        *          *    *
For the rest of the night Arthas watched and played with the dragon. It did not wake up Magni at any time, but moreover Arthas could do nothing but have an inexplicable urge to smile. He didn’t know what for, but it was as if he always knew this would happen. This dragon, his dragon, somehow connected with Arthas on a level he didn’t understand. Arthas felt a place in his heart he never knew, become whole. A gap in which had been built over and forgotten long ago, and for some unknown reason Arthas felt happy. A happy he had not felt before. Maybe because he knew that no one had a Dragon or simply the fact he had a friend to play with. He just didn’t know which.
His Dragon leapt around the room like a cricket. He assumed his Dragon did not fly because he noticed its wings looked thin and premature. It looked as if a small scratch could easily expose bone on its wings.

*                            *                                          * 

Time flew by like a leaf in autumn. After spending an entire night playing with his Dragon, Arthas finally grew tired. He wished he could have played more, but his body disagreed.
He laid down in his bed, pulled his sheets over, straightened his pillow, and then closed his eyes. Seconds went by before he suddenly felt a weight on his chest. Arthas opened his eyes and saw his dragon curled up on his chest. “Hopefully I wake up before Dad does.” Arthas said to himself as his mind drifted away and was slowly engulfed by a dream.

© Copyright 2008 Will Minor (skatewolf at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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