The maiden confidently conquers the jagged path leading to the dragon’s den. She steps with grace, avoiding crags and pitfalls. She beholds the lair and senses the challenge. Numberless female corpses litter the daunting opening. Yet as she approaches, no fear grips her loins.
Do her female eyes tear when they encounter the dragon’s volatile smoke? Does her heart flutter as she beholds the dragon’s fierce form? Can she douse its reckless flames?
The dragon rises before her, hateful and menacing, threatening maws agape. Its eyes reveal vicious intent; its malicious claws sharp, set, and ready to strike. Lifting its massive head to the skies, it bellows deafeningly.
Before the beast can attack, she unsheathes her magician’s flute and fills the air with the mesmerizing music. The notes float in the decayed den, disturbing the dark, silencing the poised and perched dragon. Its gangrene scales absorb the dichotomous melody and imperceptibly alter. The lizard body sways hypnotically, seasonably controlled, enwrapped in love. Wings shorten, fangs dull, skin waxes fair. The head eerily takes on human features effectively ending its reptilian ferocity.
The song ends. With a rapid jerk she breaks the flute in halves. She keeps one end and hands the other to the newly metamorphosed man who proffers his soft, slender, claw-free hand in thankful acceptance. The two leave the rotting crag arm in arm, bathed in sunrise.
1 comment:
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