I wrote this a while back, so it's not as good as it could. I think it's a pretty well thought out story and I will continue to write it.
Read, vote, comment! :)
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Fire rules all.
That’s what I’ve learned
My mother taught me well about Dragons. They were dangerous and ruthless. She told me of their soft spots; where it was most easily to kill one and especially where to damage them permanently: The wings. Punch a few holes in those and they’re incapable to fly forever. That’s all I’ve really learned, but, I’ve never actually faced one like my mom and dad.
They were both killed by dragons. Years ago when I had just turned twelve, a dragon raided our encampment and left me as the sole survivor. My whole family was burned alive. None of our weapons had even left a mark on the beast. Bullets only made small holes in their wings, and no one was able to puncture the soft-spot in the hollow of its throat. We were defenseless. I remember everything; my mother and father were being torn to shreds and my brother and sister’s screaming inside our house as it was being burnt to ashes.
I was in the woods that day and when I smelt the smoke, it was already too late. The sight was unbearable. Flames were everywhere, with blood and people running around, trying to get away. I saw the dragon spill its flames on my home. My father was laying rounds of bullets on it as it ripped apart my mother. From the distance, I could still see the streaks of tears on his smoke-smeared face. With one slash of the dragon’s tale, my father was dead as well. You could hear my sister Anny’s last scream ring out as the dragon fired upon my home once more.
I’ll probably be scarred for life.
“Ashlynne, hey,” I hear somebody call my name. I turn my face to gaze at my only friend, Grayson. I’ve known him since after my family’s death. We met as I was traveling to the closest living encampment in the west.
Gray—for short—was fairly tall with ashy dark brown hair that was cut unevenly around his face. His deep-set murky cerulean eyes shone brightly over the shadow of his brow and his jaw was fixed in a hard line that made him look older than his years of 15. Gray was a very brawny person for his age and his chest strained at the fabric of his old T-shirt from the 21st century. How he was able to retain the sturdiness of the century old shirt, I don’t know.
I sigh. “Hi, Gray.”
“Is there any danger up here yet?” He asks, leaning against the metal. We were up on top of a watch tower and I came up here on my free time to scan for dragons. Gray thought I was apprehensive and tense all the time. Which, I guess, I was.
I shake my head of burgundy hair, hinting him a trivial smile. “Not up till now. Levi has yet come to get me.” Levi was a Youth Coordinator.
“Well, next Thursday, you won’t have to deal with Youth Coordination anymore.”
I snort. Youth Coordination—sometimes called Y.C.—was a program for children five to sixteen and it was used mainly to teach them about how to survive the Draconian Era and to effectively kill dragons. They were wrong on a few techniques, of course.
“Yeah, I guess. That would be the day. But I’d bet you anything that I’ll be assigned an Y.C position in the jobs.” I groan and lean my chin against my crossed arms on the railing. “What do you think you’ll get for a job?” I look across at him. His strong jaw clenches and his brow furrows under his uneven hair cut.
“I don’t know.” Gray says, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I guess a Watcher or a Protector. Either one I’d be good at.” A Watcher scanned the skies and a Protector fought enemy Protectors of other camps. They were a sort of army.
