The Dragon Age

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
IMO, an amazing short piece i managed to barf out a few years ago. Found it in my diary that id lost about 2 years ago! Thought id share!

Submitted: March 19, 2016

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Submitted: March 19, 2016



The old lady, ironically was running faster than me, turning corners with unbelievable agility, as if they were just mere reflexes. She was holding something in her hands, it looked like an orb, which she held tightly between her arms, as if carrying a baby. I pursued her as fast as my legs allowed. My breathing skyrocketed. My heart rate was exploding. But finally I ran her into a corner, next to Doil’s bakery. Her strong, booming and powerful voice yelled with excruciating pain as she slid across the floor to a halt. She turned around with ridiculously slow speed, as if she was planning something at that very moment. She was looking at the floor, with her sunken dark brown eyes, whilst smiling with great confidence; I was the one scared, not her, or at least, that’s what it seemed like.

“Whats in your food? Jesus…” I said while trying to catch my seemingly endless breath.

“Child, you don’t know who I am?” She said with her powerhouse of a voice. It was deep, and unbroken. A gust flew by and flung open her pitch black and mysterious robe to reveal a dark spotted sphere smeared with a hint of purple and magenta. My mind raced as the appearance of the ball, was hauntingly familiar. And then it struck me as soon as she spoke.

“The Dragon Age has come, and the queen must rise once again, she has waited much too long. Her patience is at its final thread.”

She was holding a dragon egg. I could hear the beast slumbering within the obsidian shell, as it growled with such incredible might. She covered her face with her veil, and pulled out a darkly shaded card. Her face, barely visible, she turned the card over to reveal an image of a dragon crest on the other side. She tossed it towards me, and as soon as it hit the bare, sandy floor, it detonated and sent a cloud of black pungent smoke, slithering towards me. Like a serpent, it throttled me and my lungs quickly began deteriorating. I swam my way across the pool of smoke, only to realize that she had vanished, almost as if she flew away… almost as if she was a … dragon

I was completely muddled with thoughts, disheveled by the mere idea of a dragon! I had read of them in books, I had witnessed them in movies, I had seen them in my dreams, never would I have imagined that one would exist. I told Fiyan of this incident, if anyone would know about this fantasy mumbo-jumbo, it would be him. He was old, completely white haired, crooked and skinny. He ran a small souvenir shack in the far east of city. As I entered, the small hanging doorbell rang. I saw him, he was leaning on a chair, in the corner of the small room, with his beard touching is knees, his arms tightly wrapped around his chest, and his torn straw hat drooping over his shaggy old face. He was in his signature attire, a bright full sleeved red robe that covered his ankles, creased off-white gloves, and a pair of dull green sleeping slippers. He was quite the eccentric man, everybody thought he was crazy. I thought he was special, and misunderstood.

“Fiyan!” I yelled at him from the entrance. He didn’t seem to hear me. “FIYAN!” I yelled again, at the top of my lungs.
“IM NOT DEAD YET!” He screamed with his flimsy, high pitch voice as he frantically waved his arms and legs about trying not to fall off his chair. With a weak and fragile frame like his, it would most certainly be a near-death experience!

“What’s the big idea? Barg’n in on me like - - oh, it’s you! I told you not to come here again didn’t I? Especially after you broke my mama’s teacup set!”

“That was 2 months ago! I said I was sorry, let it go already old man!”

“Old man? Who you call’n old man? I’m still in my mid-nineties, I’ve got plenty more to live for! Get out of me shop ya fool of a took!”

“I have something to ask---“

“No! Get out!”

“But I think I saw a dragon e—“

“WHAT?! Dragon?!”

A strange silence befell the old wooden antique shop. He glared into my eyes with a confused, yet furious look. He walked up to the small cracked windows, pulled down the old rugged curtains, locked the creaking door, and flipped the stained shop sign to show “Closed”, and told me to come with him downstairs.

“Downstairs? This place has no downstairs. Have you been drinking again?” I said, with a raise of an eyebrow.

“You know nothing.” He replied, with an awkwardly deep voice.

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