Chapter 2: Of Perfection Restored

Here's Chapter 2. Once again, let me remind y'all that it's very....confused..

Chapter 2

The dragon beat the air with its wings, soaring rapidly towards the forest. It opened its gaping maw and, within moments, had reduced that beautiful paradise to smoking, charred cinders. The air was filled with the shrieking of burning birds, and the sounds of burnt stumps cracking beneath the weight of the scorched treetops. The brook sizzled and boiled and became as the effervescent cauldron of some fabled witch.

As I watched the cruel flames licking up the heather, I felt such a sense of anger and bewilderment. As the colourful world turned all to black, I steeled myself with determination.

I pushed off the ground and flew towards the dragon. It turned to face me, and opened its punishing jaws to snap me up like a child eats chocolate drops. I felt as though my heightening fury gave me speed, and, with not much difficulty, I manoeuvred myself behind its head. Without a sword or a gun, how could I kill the brute? I dodged its lashing neck and head as it endeavoured to find me. I grabbed hold of its wing, and ripped one of the panels of scaly skin.

The dragon shrieked in pain, and I felt some grim satisfaction. I pummelled its head about its metal-like ears, but injured none but myself.

The dragon suddenly flew straight up into the sky, throwing an ill-aimed breath of fire towards me as it went.

I followed closely as we streaked through the darkened clouds. Where had it gone? A black, brightly shining object, almost brilliant in its sheen, darted towards me from around the edge of a pillar of cloud. It meant to make an end of me, I am sure, but it did not.

Having read several books that mention the fact that dragons have a soft underbelly, I did a quick inspection as I ducked under the creature. My search yielded nothing; it seemed to be well guarded on all sides.

Suddenly, as soon as all this movement began, it stopped.

We hovered in mid-air, surrounded by massive columns of cloud, a celestial arena of sorts. Its piercing, almost jewel-like eyes, looked me right in the face. I stared right back, through its eyes, into the depths of its dark soul, and saw what I was to do.

It attacked me, a flash of black in a world of white. I darted above its head, but just as quickly, I turned about and flew right onto its head. I raised my fist, and plunged it towards the crown of that great and terrible monster.

Time seemed to slow. The clouds leaned in, like an expectant and waiting crowd. My fist met the top of its head. My bruised and bloodied knuckles broke through the skin, the skull, the very brain; but there was no oozing blood. The head seemed to break apart into millions of shards of obsidian, flying apart as though it were an explosion. The whole of the creature shuddered, and, all in a moment, it broke. The sky seemed to filled with black, dazzling rain, a rain of jewels.

I returned to the ground below, battered, bruised, and the sole owner of one very painful wrist.
I crept into a sheltering cave beneath one of the still smouldering crags to shelter myself from the piercing downpour. As each sharp point pierced the ashes, as though they were arrows, I fancied that they blossomed, and took root.

Once destroyed, the world was watered by the death of the dragon, and became bright and new again.

Having seen my world restored, I fell to the ground in a stupor; I spent such a time nearly strangling Old Morpheus that night that I’m afraid very few people got any sleep at all.

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