I wrote this in 5th grade, it's the beginning of a novel I never finished.
|A scream. Single, long, and loud. It rented the air as if a knife that could pierce through iron. And then there was silence, almost as obvious as the scream. On a lonely mountain peak, encircled by swirling snow, two beings fought. One, stood covered in his own silver blood as he battled for the crag he stood upon. The other drove him back, thrusting the air with his great black horn. Suddenly, the horn was challenged by a golden one, driving it back. The beings circled, and now the great black horn was the one with his back to the crag and its drop. With a rush of air, he lifted himself up, his dark black wings catching a current. They swelled, and the very sky grew darker as he grew over the golden horn. The great feathers seemed to be outlined in detail, and they could be followed down to large stumps, holding them into the rippling shoulder blades of the black being. The golden horn responded by lifting his golden wings, shining like the noonday sun, and following. Both circled in the air, and glared, the black being with blood red eyes, dotted with specks of black, and the golden, with blood red eyes as well; dotted with specks of gold. |
Without warning, they both lunged, and then pulled back, as if they had taken each other by surprise. They circled in the air once more, ever wary of the growing snowfall that blinded them. As the air grew colder, they seem set to finish what had been started. Both limping, they lunged once more, crashing into each other. Suddenly, the golden being lost his footing. His hooves scraped wildly at the crag’s peak as he struggled, and his wings sodden with melted snow hung useless at his side. With one final scream of desperation, which came from his very heart, his body tumbled down into the endless void.
The black being leaned his neck down and watched as the blackness swallowed his enemy. With a faint smile, he turned back and shook his mane, which had become covered in snow. Slowly he limped down, off the crag and onto a skinny path which lead down the mountain.
Below, underneath the crag, on a small ledge lay the body of the golden being. His chest heaved painfully, as his eyes rolled back into head. A pool of silver blood contrasted against the cold snow that now covered him like a blanket. His head lifted for a moment, and his eyes came into focus. Slowly, he lifted his front legs, and supported himself. Buckling underneath his weight, they gave. Sighing, he lay down, leaving his fate to the swirling snow that encompassed him.