March short story contest 4th place

The  Dragon  Prince  By  Sarah Munro

　

I stared the dark dragon in his eye. It was glowing amber, bright and appealing compared to my dull blue irises. I could see his dark blue and purple, almost black, scales glinting in the moonlight, along with the saliva the clung to his razor fangs.

　

"Mai," the dragon whispered, a curl of black smoke escaping his mouth with the word. I shivered at the mention of my name, the hot summer night suddenly feeling colder than raindrops in winter.

　

"Kona Willdore," I managed to whisper back and bow my head, acknowledging the dragon in the polite way of my people.

　

The dragon huffed. "Just call me Kona, no formalities."

　

And then Kona began to change. His long, winding dragon body shrunk and closed in on itself until a tall, handsome young man stood in its place. Kona as a human was as regal as his dragon-self. He still had the luminescent amber eyes, pale skin, and his wavy hair was black, but shimmered with purple and blue in the light. Kona held himself with the air of a dangerous prince. Which, I knew, he was.

　

I was the princess of the Griffin Realm, and Kona the prince of the Dragon Realm. The two creatures of flight had been at war for centuries, until the Kings, our fathers, had made a treaty. To ensure the peace, their children would be married.

　

Kona was my fiancé.

　

At first I’d desired him – he was physically gorgeous. But he lacked beauty on the inside, too. In fact, he lacked anything remotely decent on the inside. Kona and his people could  shift into dragons. The same goes for me and my people, except we shift into griffins. A griffin slayed the prince’s mother, and he’s held a grudge against my people ever since. But the Queen’s death also left him with only two emotions: anger and pride. And over the years, he mastered the ability to get what he wanted with fake charm.

　

But this time, even his phony charisma wouldn’t get him out of marriage with me.

　

The dragon prince sauntered over to where I stood, and picked up a piece of my long, golden hair, which looked darker in the dull light of the moon. He twisted it between his thumb and forefinger, casually examining the strands. I could smell the scent of pine needles on him, along with something musky. He took a step closer and I held my breath.

　

"Pretty," he murmured. Kona dropped my hair and reached his hand out to cup my cheek instead. I felt his slender but calloused thumb run back and forth across my skin. It tingled where he touched it. "Too bad you’re one of them."

　

He jerked his hand away and took a step back, so I let out the breath I’d been holding. I wanted to avoid Kona’s critical gaze, so I stared at the trees instead. They were tall pines, planted loosely to let in light. Animals didn’t like us, so there were none that could be heard or seen. I felt colder than before, like I’d fallen through the ice of a frozen pond, but I only had on my summer nightgown to keep me warm. I wished Kona hadn’t asked me to meet him there, or that I didn’t agree to it. Why did I do such a careless thing? I knew meeting Kona alone at night was dangerous. I had to leave.

　

I sighed to myself, turning so I could walk back to my castle. But a sharp pain stopped me. A long arrow protruded from my chest, right above my heart. And then the pain came searing through my body, first locking all my muscles, and then making me feel so weak. With all my remaining energy, I glared accusingly at Kona, but he stared back in horror. It wasn’t him, so who was it?

　

Distantly, I felt my body hit the ground. It hurt, but not as much as the agonizing pain in my chest. I heard a loud thump, a dragon’s growl, and then the shriek of some creature that cut off abruptly. I closed my eyes for a few moments, and when I opened them, I saw a beautiful face staring down at me, concern etched in the features.

　

"K-Kona," I choked out. It was becoming hard to breathe through all the agony. "What h-happened…?"

　

The prince’s hand came down and stroked my hair, trying to soothe me. It mildly helped.

　

"The satyrs have been angry about the treaty our fathers made, and one shot you. He probably hoped that we would be at war again. But don’t worry, my love, I took care of him, and nobody will ever harm you again!"

　

Was I delirious? Was the pain making me hallucinate? Kona had never shown any care for my wellbeing, nor had he shown any sort of kindness towards me at all. Maybe I was dead, and the afterlife showed you what you wanted to see. A caring Kona would be every girls’ dream.

　

"Why’d you call me ‘my love’?" I’d slurred it out without thinking. If I didn’t have an arrow in my chest, I probably would’ve blushed at my idiocy.

　

"I’ll get to that…" Kona said. He gently slid my body onto his lap, and began pulling the arrow out. To distract me from the wood sliding out of my flesh, he began talking. "I wanted you to meet me here because I have something to tell you. But once I’d worked up the courage, I got angry again. I don’t know why I get angry so much, but since mother’s death, that’s just the way it is…

　

"I decided that I didn’t care much for you after all, until that damn satyr shot you. That’s when I realised that I can’t let you die, no matter what. I need you, Mai, and I don’t have too much pride to tell you that. And, to be honest, I can’t wait until we’re wed."

　

I looked up at the prince, tears of joy in my eyes. The arrow was out now, and still clutching it, he leant down and kissed me. The touch of his lips on mine was bliss. I didn’t want it to ever end, but I knew it would, sooner or later. When Kona pulled back, there was an odd glint in his glowing eyes.  His face held a light smile that it pulled back into a mocking grin.

　

"Just kidding," Kona said playfully. And then he stabbed the arrow back into my chest, this time straight in my heart.


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Find information about my next writing contest, interviews, book news and more on my website.

www.TheNeverChronicles.com

In bookstores 6-5-2012

March Short Story contest 3rd place

The Curse by Emily Vause

I blinked at the bright light that poured into my room as someone opened the heavy curtains over my window. I opened my eyes properly and saw Sophie  stood by my bed holding today’s attire, I took this as a subtle hint that it was time to get up although I knew if I decided to venture back into my slumber she wouldn’t object.  Sophie’s family had been serving mine for many years and Sophie had also decided to do so, she was my ladies maid, chosen because we were a similar age. I examined her closely, her dark hair had been pulled into a tight knot at the crook of her neck and the usual healthy glow was gone. The colour in her face had drained, her blue eyes burning brighter against her unusually pale skin. I sat upright.

“My God Sophie whatever is the matter, are you alright?” I was genuinely worried; Sophie and I had become very close since she had come to work for my family. Sophie didn’t answer me but gave me a tiny nod which I would not have noticed if I hadn’t been looking at her so intently.  I knew at once something was wrong.

I got up at once and went to my mirror; my ivory skin was the perfect contrast to my red hair. Everyone I had ever met had commented about my hair, it was actually red. Not the ginger that some people call red. No my hair was a natural blood red. My hair was not my most striking characteristic though, my eyes were. Looking in the mirror the large almond shaped eyes looked strange to even me. My right eye was the deepest blue I had ever seen and my left eye a velvety brown. My eyes always left an impression on the people I met. I quickly brushed my vivid ringlets after Sophie had helped me dress and hurried downstairs into the drawing room.

My mother and father were sat side by side whispering quietly. I shut the door behind me and they both fell silent and turned to face me. They looked almost as anxious as Sophie had; the whole situation was making me feel quite nervous.

“Sit down Juliette” I heard my mother’s voice waver, something was most definitely wrong. I sat as instructed across from my parents and looked at them seriously. My father opened his mouth as if to speak but then shut it again, this action was repeated several times by both parents but neither seemed able to speak to me.

“Mother, what has happened?” I asked hoping that my voice didn’t give away the emotional turmoil I was going through. My mother looked away like she suddenly found the floor fascinating. “Father?” I was getting desperate now.  My father took a deep breath and plucked up enough courage to speak.

“There’s something we haven’t told you Juliette but you have to understand it was for your own good.” My father took my hands in his and held tightly. It was as if he thought I would disappear if he let go. “Juliette, you are cursed. When you were born you were very sick, no not sick but dying. We had to do something, we couldn’t just watch are baby daughter perish. So we made a deal to keep you alive.”

“I don’t understand” I murmured, questions were running through my head. The answers to these questions were impossible for me to comprehend. “Why didn’t you tell me I was ill? What do you mean I’m cursed? Who did you make a deal with?” The questions were spilling out of my mouth. My father’s voice shook as he spoke “I will start from the beginning Juliette, I will answer all of your questions. We owe you that much.” He glanced over to my mother who sat silently, tears brimming in her beautiful brown eyes. My father began.

“Juliette when you were born you were so small, so delicate. The doctor told us your heart was much too weak, he told us that there was no hope for your survival.” My father looked me in the eye and continued. “There was hope though! We were visited by an angel, he told us he would cure you but there was a price. We blindly agreed to his deal without knowing the consequences. He cured you and then told us he’d be back in a year. That was the best year of our lives; we had the baby we had always dreamed of and we were happy. Our angel returned like he said he would but he was different. Juliette, he was not an angel. The abomination was Lucifer himself and the consequences of our decision were explained. The moment you turned sixteen the creature inside you would awaken.”

I was shell-shocked, were they playing me for a fool? My father could not possibly be telling me the truth. I examined his face and the realisation dawned on me that he was telling the truth. My father was being the most truthful he ever had been with me. My life was a lie. I was cursed. That one word had the ability to ruin my entire life. Cursed. Cursed. Cursed.  

 “What creature i-“my voice broke mid sentence, I cleared my throat and tried again “what creature is inside me?” my father shuffled through the pile of papers he had on his desk and pulled out a picture and handed it to me.

The creature was blood red and resembled a mixture between a snake and a crocodile. It was huge with gleaming teeth that made me shiver even knowing it was only a painting. It had spiked wings and black talons. The characteristic that stood out most was its eyes. One was blue and the other brown. I threw the picture back onto the table and sprinted out the door. I don’t know how long I was running all I knew was the forest I had stopped in was very far away from my home.

I sat in the forest until nightfall. The sky had turned an inky black; the only illumination was small pockets of light that dotted the twilight. Everything was still; as if the world had frozen in time. Not even leaves dared to fall in fear of destroying the serine backdrop. On a normal day I would have stopped here and taken out my sketchbook. On a normal day I would have sat for hours drawing the stunning landscape. On a normal day I would be so absorbed in my work I wouldn’t have noticed the darkness slipping away and being replaced by the soft glow of sunrise. On a normal day I would not have found out that in three days I will be able to morph into a Dragon.

Sitting in that forest I made a decision, on that I would keep to. I would not let this ruin my life. I was going to be strong.

The day of my sixteenth birthday arrived and I got a shock. I woke up and I was fine, normal even. I had expected to wake up as a monster but I hadn’t. A wide grin spread across my face and there was a knock on my door. My parents were stood on the other side but strangely their smile’s didn’t match mine. They were giving me a sad ‘it’s ok’ smile. That’s when I remembered the final detail my father had told me when I returned from the forest. “You will only change when you’re in a highly emotional state be it happiness, sadness or anything in between.”

My world felt as if it were crumbling all over again. I ran down the stairs and into the garden then burst into tears. It had the affect I thought it would. I felt my skin tightening and my bones changed places and size. I screamed, the pain felt like it was going to last forever.

 Eventually it stopped; I knew without looking at myself I matched the picture I’d seen. I also instinctively knew how to use this new body. I flapped my spiky wings and took off. I honestly had never felt freer in my life. Flying through the sky was like second-nature to me. All my life I had felt slightly empty, now I felt complete.

Five years later I had the normal life I had always craved, I went to the university I had always dreamed of, I had learned to control my emotions and through that I could control my shifts. I didn’t shift very often but when I did it wasn’t out of sadness. All I did was think about the people I love and how happy they make me and my happiness is powerful enough for me to feel free once again. I knew now the person my parents thought was Lucifer was in fact the angel they’d suspected first. I wasn’t cursed I was gifted.


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Find information about my next writing contest, interviews, book news and more on my website.

www.TheNeverChronicles.com

In bookstores 6-5-2012

March Short Story Contest Second Place

Playing Human by Mara Nelms

Kiwi tumbled through the air on her spindly human legs, clutching her steal to her chest as she ducked into the safety of her hidden thicket. She swiped the thorny cover over the entrance, ignoring the pricks on the palm of her hand, and retreated away from the entrance until she had backed into a small cave that was tucked into the face of a rocky hill.

The inside of the cave was the place which was, tentatively, Kiwi’s new home. A bedroll was stacked neatly beside a pile of blankets, all stolen, and a lamp which had been snatched from the side of an unwary soldier.

Kiwi settled near the mouth of the cave, letting the pleasant afternoon light pool at her feet. She opened her basket and was unable to suppress a human sound of pleasure which bubbled out of her throat.

In a second, long limbs and sleek black hair were replaced by a scaled reptilian form that gleamed red. The creature was a small dragon with a long, slim body and four legs. Its face had disappeared inside the basket.

Kiwi withdrew her head, green juice dripping from her snout. Her large, mischievous amber eyes narrowed briefly in thought, and, quick as a blink, Kiwi was human again and had grabbed one of the brown-furred fruits from which she had stolen her name.

Kiwi noted absently that her human form was, once again, different—crimson curls teased in her peripheral vision, and the hands that gripped the kiwi fruit were paler and pinker. She bit into the fruit, curious about whether the taste would be different for her human form.

Kiwi spat out a chunk of green mess and brown skin into her free hand. Reflexively her human face frowned. The fruit’s skin, which as a dragon had caused her no displeasure, now rasped unpleasantly against her tongue and lent a bitter taste to the fruit.

“Hmmph,” Kiwi said, utilizing an expression she had learnt from a lazy fisherman.

Human ears caught the baying of hounds growing closer, and Kiwi tensed and disappeared to the back of her cave, rifling through a basket with her deft human hands. She pulled out a jumbled mess of stolen clothing, having learnt from experience when she first wandered into a human town that humans reacted harshly to the naked female form.

Kiwi struggled into a white blouse, discovering by trial and error which part was supposed to go where. She sifted through the pile for more clothing as the baying neared—how was she supposed to know how much clothing was acceptable?

Finally she found a pair of trousers which she had stolen off of a laundry line. Kiwi had seen very many humans wearing ones like these, so they should be safe. She wriggled into them.

 Kiwi put the cover back on the basket of kiwi and moved it into the very back of the cave. The hounds were very near now, and undoubtedly searching for the black-haired girl who had snatched a full basket of expensive kiwi fruit.

Kiwi backtracked over her old path, heading towards the hounds for as long as she dared to renew her scent. Then she took off down a forest path which led away from her hidden thicket, sprinting through any undergrowth and wincing when her tender human feet hit a rock. The hounds would follow the fresher scent, and leave her new home alone.

Kiwi eventually stumbled to a stop near a brook and plunged happily in, reveling in the coolness of the water. She was panting and quite exhausted, but she dared not ease her weariness by taking on her true form. If the hounds’ human masters got scent of that, she would have to abandon her home once again.

Kiwi gave a happy hum as she dipped her head back into the water, still breathing heavily. Crashing footfalls and barking announced the arrival of her pursuers.

Three pointy-eared dogs splashed into the water with Kiwi, clambering onto her human form with curious sniffs and tails a-wag. Although they had hunted Kiwi, they could not help but respond to the presence of a dragon. Still, though, they yipped confirmation back to their master, who lagged behind—they had found their quarry.

As the human stopped, panting, by the river, Kiwi bemusedly played with the ears of one of the dogs. They were so loose! Were they meant to move like that? Flip, flap, flip—she could flop them either way! Kiwi traced the curve of her human ear. It was flexible, but when she bent it, it simply fell back into place as soon as she let go. How boring.

“You,” the human gasped, “girl. What have you done to my dogs?”

Kiwi froze, and raced for words. “I like my dogs,” she offered cautiously.

“They’re not your dogs, they’re my dogs,” the man corrected, seeming more confused than angry. “And they’re professionals, not pets.”

Kiwi blinked. “Dogs like me,” Kiwi said, leaving out the possessive pronouns altogether. They were too confusing.

“Yes,” the man said. “Apparently. Listen, have you seen a girl—a young woman, really, rather tall, with long black hair? She was wearing a houserobe and mens’ trousers when she was last seen. She’s a thief. I’m looking for her, but you distracted my hounds.”

A simple answer in the negative should do the trick. “No,” Kiwi said hurriedly.

The man sighed. “Yes, alright,” the man said. “By the way, what are you doing out here? Are you lost? If you want, I can point you toward the nearest inn.”

Kiwi furrowed her brow, panic making her pulse pick up pace again. She didn’t know that many words!

The man noticed her disorientation. “Are you okay?” he asked, peering at her. “You’re not hurt, are you? And—what are you wearing?”

One of the dogs licked her face. Kiwi flinched, and sighed. “I don’t have words,” she said finally.

“What do you—oh,” the hunter said, realizing. “You’re not from around here. You don’t have an accent, though—where are you from?”

Kiwi hummed in anxiety. “I don’t know,” she said unhappily. This conversation was beyond her skills.

“You don’t know where you’re from, or you just don’t know how to say it?” the man sighed. “Nevermind, though. Are you lost?”

Kiwi pondered the question. ‘Lost’ she knew. Was she lost? Kiwi supposed she was. Although as a dragon she knew her way around both earth and the Dragon Plane—her other-dimensional home—quite well, in her experimental human forms, she was clumsy, bewildered, and yes, lost. “Lost,” Kiwi repeated, tasting the word. A small smile found its way onto her face. “Yes.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” the man said fretfully. He offered her a hand. “Come on, then. We have an extra room at my home. I’ll take you to meet my wife, and you can stay with us until we can get you back to your people. Is that alright?”

Kiwi took the hunter’s hand and he pulled her up. The dogs shifted around her, watching her brightly as water streamed from her clothes. “I like your dogs,” Kiwi grinned.

The hunter grunted. “It’s mutual, I think. What’s your name?”

The smile on her face was huge. “Kiwi,” she said, and she tasted that word too.






Mara Nelms is the author of My Purse bit my Best Friend -if it is half as entertaining as her gust posts (it is more so), it would be well worth your time to pay her a visit. 


She has also guest posted on this blog before HERE


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Find information about my next writing contest, interviews, book news and more on my website.

www.TheNeverChronicles.com

In bookstores 6-5-2012

March short story contest-first place

Muffins -by Colby Cox

The thing about being a teenage boy is that you fall in a teenage-boy-version of love approximately every four minutes. Hot girl leaning against the wall of the school smoking, not worried at all about whether or not she would get caught? Love. Girl who sits down beside you to help you with your trig homework? Love. And, yeah, when my parents got me my own pet dragon for my sixteenth birthday, regardless of the fact that it was entirely deranged and would only answer to the name Muffins, that was another version of love.

           Trying to surprise someone with a pet dragon, my parents found out, is next to impossible. First of all, dragons are noisy creatures. They stomp if they walk, and if they fly there’s a WHOOSH sound as they flap their wings up and down. Second, dragons are HUGE. Basically, if I were to look out any window of the back side of my house, I would have seen the beast.

            This led to my walking out the back door of my house that day and saying, “Um, why is there a dragon back here?” and then my parents saying, “Uh, surprise?”

            “What’s this?” I ask, cautiously approaching them and the dragon.

            “This is your own pet dragon,” my father says. “It answers to Muffins.”

            “Muffins?” I say, hiding the fact that this is one of the most exciting things to ever happen to me.

            “Yeah, we didn’t name it,” my mom says. “Happy birthday!”

            “Well, thanks, guys.”

            When my parents go inside, I step closer to the dragon, remembering the advice my dad had given me before going in: introduce yourself to her. Make a good first impression. She needs to know that you won’t hurt her. She looks at me, lowering her head, curious. “Hi there, Muffins,” I say. She lowers her head more, allowing me to reach out and touch her salmon-colored nose. Breathing in quickly, she shies away from my touch before moving closer and lowering her belly to the ground. That’s when I understand what she wants: she wants me to mount her back.

            “Uh, hold on there, Muffins,” I say. The creature nudges me with her nose. “Okay. Okay.” I walk over to the stake and grasp one of the huge chain links that is connected to her metal collar. “Stay still now, girl.” I put my foot in the bottom chain link and begin to climb as if it is a ladder. It takes a moment, and I almost fall as the chain twists to the side once, but I make it to the top and sit on the upper part of her back, just at the bottom of her neck. The flapping of wings is something that it will take time to get used to. There’s a moment where it just feels like everything’s shaking, and then we rise up off the ground and are in the air. But when we get a good twenty feet up, a sudden jolt knocks me back. Even though I was holding on to the metal collar to hold on to Muffins, I hadn’t remembered to unlatch her chain. I catch myself on her tail, narrowly escaping death by falling to the ground, but Muffins just keeps flying in frantic circles, tail whipping back and forth, threatening to throw me off. She must think that something has her caught.

            “Muffins!” I yell. “Calm down!”

            I try frantically to pull myself up as I slide further down her tail. As luck would have it, her tail whips around just the right way, and I take my chance. I jump. Fall in what seems like slow motion. And—

My arms feel as if they are going to be ripped out of their sockets, but I catch onto the collar at just the right time. “Yes!” I yell, but I’m still just hanging over the side of Muffins, trying to hold on. I decide that the best thing to do now is to try and stop my dragon’s panicking, so I hold on for dear life with my right hand while reaching around the side of the collar with my left, grabbing the latch. Suddenly, we’re flying higher than before and the chain is falling to the ground with a thud. I use all of my remaining strength to pull myself up onto her back. Once atop her, I don’t have to do much except hold on as she does a lap around the city.

            Seeing a dragon with a rider atop it is not an uncommon thing since the Return of the Dragons, which happened when I was eight years old and a man who had been breeding dragons in the mountains in Colorado was killed when he was struck by lightning as he opened the gate of the massive cage he had built to feed his dragons and at least two-hundred dragons were set free, but it seems odd to be the one on the dragon. For my first time riding, I feel as if I’m doing a great job. But all of my built up confidence dies whenever I see another rider flying even higher than me. I recognize him instantly. He goes to my school and always ties his dragon in the field that used to be used for some popular sport before the Return, where all the dragons are tied during school hours. His name is Vincent, and he is, for lack of better words, the school’s resident douchebag. Which is why it freaks me out whenever he starts flying over here, his dragon’s nostrils spitting out short streams of fire. “Magnus! Halt!” he commands his dragon, which lands in flies over to a nearby park, startling a few children.

            “Muffins, halt!” I command mine, a bit quieter so as not to be heard by Vincent calling my dragon Muffins, and we land near Vincent and Magnus in the park.

            “Fagboy got a dragon?” he asks me, snorting. I want to ask him if his vocabulary is simply limited to insults such as fagboy, or if he really just thinks that being gay would be such a huge insult, but I hold my tongue because I remember how stupid my dragon is and how his is still spewing flames out of its nose.

            “No, Connor got a dragon,” I correct him.

            “What’s its name, fagboy?” he asks me, ignoring my previous statement.

            “Um,” I say, trying to think of a name I could give it that might sound at least a little intimidating. “Viper? Right, Viper?” Muffins sits on its back legs, swiping at a bird she found flying around with her front legs.

            “That’s not really its name, is it?” Vincent says, smiling. I feel so small, like I’ve been caught in a lie. “C’mon, fagboy. What’s your dragon’s real name?” 

            “Muffins,” I say under my breath.

            “What’s that?”

            “Muffins,” I say a little louder, still ashamed.

            “I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Muffins sounds like a gay name, which is really fitting for you.”

            “God, do you seriously have no other insults than to call me gay? You know that being gay isn’t a bad thing, right?”

            “That sounds like exactly the response a gay guy would give.”

            “I’m just going to ignore that, because I know that I am straight, and also that your lonesome brain cell is simply lashing out at me out of jealousy for my many brain cells.”

            “You know what, fagboy? I’ve listened to about enough of this.”

            “What do you mean?” I ask.

            “You. Me. On our dragons. Now. May the best man win.”

            Within moments our dragons are flapping their wings and rushing into the sky, preparing to face off against each other. Muffins takes an oval-shaped curve around the park as Magnus holds his place in the air by flapping its wings up and down. Muffins flies a little bit too near Magnus, who sends a stream of fire out of his nose. My dragon squeals and flies down a nearby street. Magnus follows, Vincent now standing on his dragon’s back. Magnus surprises both me and a family in a minivan by picking up the van with his back legs. The dark blue dragon twirls in the air to throw the vehicle at us, but Muffins heroically catches the van right in her mouth. She sets it down, having taken the entire roof off, and chews the bit of metal before gulping it down. As Magnus flies in front of us, the roof of the minivan hits Muffin’s stomach and she belches. A stream of fire flies from her nostrils, surprising her a bit. The family in the minivan gasps as the fire hits Magnus and Vincent. As the smoke clears, I see that Vincent is nothing but ash, while Magnus is burnt, but not badly. Magnus takes off flying again, forgetting about her rider just like that.

            Thus, my teenage-boy-sort-of-love for my stupid dragon was affirmed.

Colby writes an awesome  BLOG -check it out!


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Find information about my next writing contest, interviews, book news and more on my website.

www.TheNeverChronicles.com

In bookstores 6-5-2012