A short story I think, just writing something new for the first time in years, meant it to be a poem, but a very short story popped out, I'm not edumacated enough to care what it's called. Hardcore grammar nazi's have a special place in hell reserved for them, involving cacti and various bodily orifices, but otherwise constructive criticism is welcome. Praise is more welcome.
The Dragon’s Laughter
It starts as sudden silence, birds stop singing, deer stop grazing, rabbits cease fucking, even sap stops flowing. All the land grows still in premonition, the wind stops blowing, and even the clouds freeze in place.
Slowly, ever so slowly, there is a vibration, subsonic, a feeling in your bones, it grows, then the ground starts trembling, just a little. Then there is a sound like rhythmic thunder, all encompassing, the earth shakes, the wind flees, clouds disperse, fall to the ground in a great deluge, then evaporate and rise up again, nowhere to escape.
The creatures of the forest huddle, suddenly very wet and confused, mankind grab their guns and pray, but there is nothing to shoot at, just a pulsating thunder like noise, so they oil and stroke their guns for comfort, and pray to gods old and new, shoot a few people that were a bit strange, assuming this must be their fault, and then huddle some more. The sound and shaking recedes though, mankind rejoices, and patterns of life resume as creatures great and small, go about their lives.
Meanwhile unknown to all above, the great dragon who existed before the world began grows silent and still again, continues to dream, forgetting the dirty joke that a passing, and now rather regretful, mole whispered in her ear on a dare, sleeping silently again, until some burrowing creature with more comedic talent wanders by, tomorrow or eons from now.
The Dragon’s Laughter
It starts as sudden silence, birds stop singing, deer stop grazing, rabbits cease fucking, even sap stops flowing. All the land grows still in premonition, the wind stops blowing, and even the clouds freeze in place.
Slowly, ever so slowly, there is a vibration, subsonic, a feeling in your bones, it grows, then the ground starts trembling, just a little. Then there is a sound like rhythmic thunder, all encompassing, the earth shakes, the wind flees, clouds disperse, fall to the ground in a great deluge, then evaporate and rise up again, nowhere to escape.
The creatures of the forest huddle, suddenly very wet and confused, mankind grab their guns and pray, but there is nothing to shoot at, just a pulsating thunder like noise, so they oil and stroke their guns for comfort, and pray to gods old and new, shoot a few people that were a bit strange, assuming this must be their fault, and then huddle some more. The sound and shaking recedes though, mankind rejoices, and patterns of life resume as creatures great and small, go about their lives.
Meanwhile unknown to all above, the great dragon who existed before the world began grows silent and still again, continues to dream, forgetting the dirty joke that a passing, and now rather regretful, mole whispered in her ear on a dare, sleeping silently again, until some burrowing creature with more comedic talent wanders by, tomorrow or eons from now.
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