The White Flower

Up in Summerhill

It was cold this morning, up in Summerhill. The breeze blew strong, not a branch stood still. Dust was swept across the streets, tiny humans ran quick, moving fast, with their tiny, little, feet. Screams and shouts, flames raged in bright red clouds. Houses aflame, warning bells ring.

It's half-past two, the screeches and roars of danger were already exceedingly loud. Dragons of all colors swooped down from the sky, not a man, not a woman, nor a child could hide.

Ones with tall horns, spit lava from inside. Little ones of metal would grab a passerby, up they flew, high in the sky. They were as strong as a bear, using their long tail to grab each victim. Dropping them down to earth, when they reached a fatal height. Splat, it's a beautiful sound. Through the screams and shouts, one's strangely loud. It burned and rung in the ears of the dragons around, they paused, they flinched. Looking all around, a house at the edge of the village was close to burning down. High flames, and creaking wood, this house was run down. Made of rotting wood, and straw for a roof. Glassless windows were stripped to empty wooden panes, falling apart, and hanging by a string. The soil was dry, almost void of life, people on this side of the village starved. Because in Assenta, money talks. Coins of gold and silver bought your position, gave you the right to make big decisions. Nobody cared about the poor and the hungry. But the dragons, they cared for no one. Rich, or poor, nobody was safe from their jaws. Scream, after scream, a little voice cried.

If the dragons cared for no one, why did they release a tragic, panicked cry? Trampling their way forward, their claws dug into the ground.

A shrill, a subtle high ring. It cut through the air, fear made the sound all the more loud. The astral wing was near, a creature of the night, its name carried so much fear, even the charging dragons took note. It was a frenzy, people verse dragons, people verse people, and dragons verse dragons. The people were terrified of the ghastly creatures, unaware that such existed in these parts of the lands. Of course, there were tales and legends, but the Gold King prided himself on ridding his lands of these pests. Dragons were not welcome here, entire species have been wiped out. Their heads cut off and mounted decoratively on walls, a prize, a trophy, and a warning. For all dragons who dare tread here, dragons are not welcome in the kingdom of Assenta. But far out, with no army to help, dragons are feared.

As the shrill grew loud, something stirred the clouds. They spun and spiraled when the scream peaked, everyone stopped, covering their ears. The dragons they whined, smashing the burning house apart, looking for what could make such a sound. A child, deep in the basement of the house. She covered her ears, her face was soaked in tears. She trembled, she cried, she refused to open her eyes. The ground shook and it was her time, the house would collapse, and she'd be in the next life. Poor child, she's barely 6 summers old. Grey eyes, tan skin, and long, inky, black hair. Blessed with a button nose and baby pink lips, she was an adorable little girl. Just as the house began to cave the night fell still, the dragons had all left the village alone. Gathered 'round the burning house, many of the people from Summerhill laid dead, or ran off into the woods. The shrill paused too, for a short time not one dragon moved. Suddenly, they all started to run. The shrill was back, and they knew to move.

From the sky, something black swooped down. Right before it hit the ground the shrill echoed loud, a green ball shot out, colliding with the ground. In a cloud of dust, it all disappeared, down it smashed to the very last floor. The wood crumbled, and gave way to its might, the astral wing huffed and puffed. There was no child in sight. It sniffed the ground and flipped its ears eagerly in every direction. Up they peaked, focusing on a little heartbeat nearby. It was slow, it was weak. The dragon leaped forward, pushing boxes each way. There on the ground, the little girl laid. Lifeless and asleep, smelling like smoke, and grime. It's head tilted from side to side, a cough, and a creak panicked the shy creature. It stood back on its legs, towering two stories high, shielding the girl from the debris as it fell. It grabbed her blackened shirt between its teeth, leaping up and wrapping its wings around her, they were free. It tossed her high in the air, she flew as if she didn't weigh a thing. Her body was so small, so starving, and skinny. She plummeted to earth as the creature began to dive, startled roars came from dragons nearby. They watched her fall in fear, but the astral wing was quick. It dove down with precision, snatching her up gently, as not to kill. This girl was special, the prophecy was real. Soon, in the kingdom of Assenta, to dragons, they'll kneel.