Short Stories (Second Person and other Points of view)

Story Two

Requested by my father whose only input was "Write me a story about dragons".

As the last of my kind, it's my job to remember. My scales grow old and dull, their once vibrant onyx hue has faded, and my once great mind is not what it used to be but the spectacular trait that lays deep in my bones is the ability to hold a grudge. So I do that.

I remember every creature that led us to our terrible demise, and every creature that tried to stop them. But living such a life takes its toll, a life of endless hatred, constant anguish, is terrible, but it's only right.I could've saved us all. If only I had been braver, but I never had been brave.

As a young dragon I was raised as perfectly as anyone could ever want, but with such a comfortable cushioned life you couldn't expect me to be selfless or kind. I never had any reason to be. I was spoilt. Everything I could ever want was with me and the click of my claws.

So when they attacked I was unprepared, and my parents knew it. I was young but if I was lower in society I wouldn't have been young enough to have been excused from the battle. But my parents only wish was for their hatchling to stay safe. So they stowed me away.

I watched, but after witnessing so much horror the typical things one would keep in a hoard grew unappealing, something with only societal value. Riches and jewels had no use for me, after all I'm the only one, no one to brag to or hold it above, and other creatures don't come to me for battles the most riveting thing I face is the occasional dragon fly, but bones?

Bones hold the memories of my kin, they keep me from forgetting, from forgiving, such relief is a gift. And I've done nothing to deserve any gifts.

But I can't live forever and I feel my skin stretched tightly across my own bones. Soon I will join my hoard, my pile of treasure, the only thing dear to me. But I don't deserve such an honor so I must move away. The bones will scratch my skin as I fall so I must be sure that no one distrusts them. So I have learned common. The quill is awkward in my claw but my words are steady and legible. Legible enough at least. No one will disturb me from the bottom.

~END~