Flights Of Fantasy

Short Stories

“Do you need a lift,” said a growling voice beside Casey, as she walked along the country road, making her turn and jump out of the way.

She hadn’t heard the car draw up beside her, but when she turned it was not a car at all but a purple eyed flying dragon.

“Where are you going,” she asked, thinking it best to humour the scaly monster.

“The hills,” said the dragon, between its huge whiter than white teeth. Trails of smoke drifting out of its wide nostrils.

“There are many hills around here,” said Casey, edging further into the hedge.

“But only one that matters.”

“Why does it matter?”

“It holds my stash of gold.”

“And no doubt the charred bones of unsuspecting maidens.”

“Only the ugly ones.”

“Not the gold diggers?”

“Oh yes, maybe a few of those as well,” said the impatient Dragon, growing tired of trying to make conversation.

“Where do you think I fit in?”

“Well you’re very pretty of course.”

“How would you know. I thought beauty for you would be another lady dragon.”

“Few and far between these days.”

“Dragons or lady dragons?”

“Both. St George has a lot to answer for you know.”

“Yes, bit of a tyrant that one.”

“Yes, he killed my father. Mind you he was a bit long in the tooth.” said the dragon, baring his foot-long incisors.

“Well he was attacking the village, what do you expect.”

“He used a long sword and that wasn’t in the script.”

“There was a script?”

“Figure of speech. Talking of which you do have a fine figure.”

Casey twirled around. “You think so?”

“Yes, so what’s it to be?”

“I prefer to keep my flesh on my bones.”

Because of copywrite in fringements, you’ll have to buy the book once published to read more.