This was a fun art piece. No brush strokes were used, quite impressed myself. More to come like this.
Dark clouds cast shadows upon both the grass and tallest of trees, all pelted by water droplets mixed into an almighty wind. The gale would seemingly never let up.
The small boy blinked.
Even as snot ran down his nose to drop upon the cold wet grass, he saw the dark between his boots.
That horrid cold was no longer a sweeping breeze under his red coat. Instead, the shadows grew to horrible lengths. It was only then he realized this was no natural event.
He was not older than twelve years of age, and though used to the cold and wet, he was unaccustomed to such darkness. It was so deep and impenetrable, a terrifying shade that blotted out the sun.
It scared him.
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Tales of dragons and ancient creatures alike, magic and witches who unite; never to say farewell, yet long past their time, no one believes in them side those few who heed this rhyme.”
The poem was one his grandfather told. It ran through Brian’s thick skull as he stared at the massive being before him. Tendrils of smoke rolled slowly out of each enormous nostril as the thing stared down at the boy.
A deep guttural voice echoed across the valley, “they’ve forgotten me again, haven’t they?”
The boy swallowed and cautiously nodded in agreement.
It was then the massive thing of wings and scales let out an audible sigh. Clearly, it was dissatisfied.
“Almost not worth introducing myself,” the creature groaned.
The boy, who was growing inquisitive, asked, “now why is that?”
The dragon laughed with an ancient grumble which emitted sparks of flame from it’s nostrils and mouth. Only afterwards did the large thing explain in it’s long rolling manner of tongue.
“They will resist me, send their best to fight and die at my feet,” the dragon said.
As an afterthought, the dragon muttered in a gush of hoarse wind, “I no longer enjoy those amusing games of youth.”
The boy, still scared but realizing he was not to he eaten pushed his luck.
Brian asked, “just how old are you?”
The dragon offered a wicked smile. Then, in one slow agonizing motion the thing raised itself up, so high that it was difficult to see where sky and scale diverged.
“My age?” the dragon asked, “I come from a place long before your ‘time’ and ‘age’ held meaning.”
Brian shrank back, only then realizing he could only hope for one thing. That this mountain of a dragon would decide to sleep once more. And, it best dream for a very long millennia.