Is it really a myth?
The Dragon Lair, by Daniel Lobe
The time had arrived, I looked into the eyes of the beast and I found nothing. It had no variance of expression. If I moved slowly in any direction, it’s massive globes followed my lead. The dragon had two yellow eyes, roughly the size of cantaloupes. They shifted methodically, like synchronized compasses.
The creature knew what I was there for, it had been in this position many times. I witnessed the charred and mutilated bodies scattered throughout the passageway of the dragon’s lair. It left them there, as a warning, one that I have chosen to ignore.
I could smell its putrid breath, each exhale of the creature blew my hair back, like a foul autumn wind. I don’t fear death, but the concept of being torn to pieces has always knotted my stomach. There is no going back, that must be distinctly understood. I was here to kill, or to be killed.
A dragon has one vulnerable area beneath its chin. It is a very small spot in comparison to the proportion of the animal. The scales of the beast are similar to armor, very little can penetrate them. The soft fleshy section is very difficult to access. The beast stands about eighteen-feet tall with the length of the neck probably closer to twenty-five feet. Piercing the area beneath it’s chin was my only chance for survival.
I had to anticipate a strike, dragons pick their opportunities carefully, and they don’t waste energy on reckless movement. I raised my shield slightly as the dragon reared its mighty head. It was going to spew flame and I could see the strips of human skin still wedged between the razor teeth. The time had arrived, with one swift motion it jolted forward to release it’s searing flame.
“ Mr. Johnson!”
“I told you to stay out of Gilbert’s room, and stop chasing him with that pillow! The poor guy was so upset yesterday he soiled his shorts. You just lost your television privileges. I’m not going to tell you again, get over here and take your medication.”
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