The Last Dragon Kenneth Darter
The grass withered
beneath the woman’s feet, turning from green to yellow-brown. The sharp leaves fell over, dull and faded. She stumbled into a tree and the bark crumbled under her hand. Pulling away, she stared at the black smear on her hand. There was a crack and a creak as the tree fell over and thudded into the ground, decomposing into the dirt even as she watched. Black beetles crawled out of the husk and slithered away through the yellow grass.
The man stood in silence, his hands held out empty, his face turned toward the sky with tears streaming down. Useless, the woman thought; what is done is done. Still, she watched a bright purple flower wilt and fall to the ground, and tears trickled down her cheeks as well.
The grass melted into the ground and
sand blew in on strong winds from the east. All around them, the land changed. A
taste of salt was in the air, replacing the honeysuckle and other scents they
knew so well. A large bird screeched as it descended from the sky. The man put
his hand above his eyes to follow the bird. It spiraled downward and landed on
a large dead lion. The bird tore into the carcass with a squelch and more
screeches followed the first bird to the dead king. The woman scratched at the
leaves that chafed her skin and pondered.
The great serpent cackled as he
scampered across the field, dust and sand swirling around him. The trees and
plants and grass were disappearing to make way for the hot dry world that
suited his scales and his slow blood. He lifted his large paw with sharp claws
and swiped at a great tree still standing. The world would belong to the
powerful now, he thought. He would see how well the little pink
One-Tongue-Two-Legs could live in the desert of his dreams without their shade
and fruit. He roared, “It’s all mine!” and leaped into the air to survey his
new kingdom. His great wings unfurled to catch the wind from the east and he
did not hear the footsteps that cracked like thunder in the distance.
The man and woman looked at each other
when they heard the footsteps. They could feel the presence of the Great Father
even before they saw him, but everything was different. The man remembered when
the Father was a guide, a friend and a companion; now he felt separation and
disappointment. He looked back at the garden and saw a small circle of trees
still standing, dark shadows offering relief from the sun, and fruit waiting to
be plucked and eaten. As the Great Father approached, they both lowered their
faces. The man stared at his feet and memories flashed through his mind,
memories of easy conversation while lying in the grass, drinking water together
from the springs, and laughter, many nights of laughter and songs under bright stars.
That life was gone now, replaced by desert sand, bowed heads and fading
memories.
The woman’s cheeks burned when the man
pointed at her. Would this shame follow her forever, she thought, would it
follow her children? A stubborn pride surged within her and she raised her head
to face the judgment. But she could not withstand the Father’s eyes and turned
instead to the serpent, flying toward them in the shimmering heat of the day. The
Father followed her gaze and the great beast landed with a crashing thud, sand
flying up around it. Its wings sent sand flying toward the Father. It stood on
its hind legs and roared, “The land belongs to me!”
The Great Father opened his mouth to
speak and as his lips parted, everything stopped. The sand fell to the ground
before it touched the Father, the serpent’s words choked off. Even the animals
in the distance paused in expectation. The voice of the Father came from
everywhere, as if the earth and sky breathed together.
“CURSED.”
The word was harsh and twisted, a new
unkind word for the new world in which they found themselves. The serpent’s
eyes glittered and its split tongue slipped in and out of powerful jaws. It
glared at the Father and hesitated, unsure of what to make of the word and its
meaning. The man and woman stared at the serpent as its head sunk down to the
ground and its legs withered and then disappeared into the folds of its scaly
skin. The serpent shrieked but the cry was cut off as it choked on the desert
sand. With an effort, the serpent reared itself up to look at the Father.
The Father’s curse for the serpent
echoed across the land and sky. It would live on the ground where it would
never again know the exhilaration of flying or the wind in its face. The great
serpent would become a common snake, looked down upon by other animals and
trampled into the ground by man. The Father looked down at the serpent rolling
and thrashing on the ground. The serpent opened his jaws to speak, but all that
came out was hissing.
The Father nodded and turned his
attention to the woman. She cringed, but held her head high.
“CURSED.”
She gasped, looking down to see her
belly swollen, distended. With a grunt, she crouched on the ground and pulled
her knees up to her head, crying and shouting in pain and anger. The pain did
not let up; it got worse and she felt great pressure focused on her center. The
man watched, unable to help. At last, through the haze of pain and sweat, a
sweet crying sound rang out as a baby breathed its first gulps of air. A mist
lifted and took the vision away, leaving the woman crying with her arms tight
around herself.
The Father nodded at her and turned
his attention to the man.
“CURSED.”
The ground around the man erupted with
weeds, thorns and thistles. He struggled against it as the bramble tried to
pull him down, cutting and scratching him. By strength and sweat, he was able
to beat the bushes into submission and bring up food from the ground, but the
next season loomed ahead of him. He could see himself working and struggling
until he was laid to rest in the ground and returned to the dust. A distant
memory stirred in his mind and he remembered waking to see the Father swirling
the dust with his hands.
The Father looked at the three - the
serpent on the ground, the woman downcast in thought, and the man with his head
up, even now beginning to shoulder the burden of the future. The Father looked
up at the sky seeing the years and centuries ahead, parting the mysteries of
time. Then he nodded once more; it was done.
The Father turned his attention to
what was left of the garden in the midst of the new desert. The inner sanctum
to the far west was green and the trees still stood tall and strong. As the sun started to slide down to the
horizon, the man and woman saw their birthplace for the last time. In the haze
of the sunset, the garden lifted up and away from the world. Strange creatures
flew down from the sky. The man and woman could make out large wings and
flashes of colors around the creatures. Then flames filled the sky as far as
they could see, and the garden disappeared behind the flames as the sun
set.
The man and woman shivered in the cold
of the night. The Father gently placed the clean skins of animals over their
shoulders. Somewhere the serpent disappeared, slithering into a crack in the
world.
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Kenneth Darter is a writer and musician in the Atlanta area. He writes fantasy stories and composes rock music with a classical twist and lyrics that are sometimes based on ancient literature. He has started many novels over the years and believes that one of them might be pretty interesting if it were finished. In his spare time, he works as an IT project manager, is a father to two precocious children, and often thinks about writing a musical. He can be found at www.kldarter.wordpress.com.
