Dragon mother.

[Certain]

Morgantuan was never going to stick around.
He had to stretch his wings. He had to hit the town.
I couldn't expect a king to risk his crown
in the name of love, could I?

My nest would swing with the wind from the cliff's peak,
when the cold tends to split through unkissed cheeks.
It hardened, the broken skin of a single mother trying to make it
and never quite feeling less than naked.
Parantius. Beloved kin. I nuzzled him to sleep every night,
knowing he too would leave and take flight,
knowing he too would cause my greiving at night.
But not yet.

The ninth of January, an exhale keeping us warm,
my folded wing covers Parry, a sheath from the storm.
My breathing is chored. The air's thin in our mountainous home,
but we prefer to stay away from lands crowded below.
I'd hunted the night before to keep us fed for the blizzard,
and though it's less than equisite, in winter, there's less for the pillage.
When alone, I tell Parry stories of his legendary father,
but avoid the part where the ruler of the skies couldn't be bothered.

Footsteps. Parry's a sensitive sleeper, and he nudges me awake.
I turn, puffing heaps of flames expecting a hungry hyena's gaze.
My eyes dart the landscape when I see a darkened man's blade
shimmering in the sun, and he's pulling a large englassed case.
I can't see in, though, so I tell Parry to wait while I examine closer
and slip off for a better vantage point, unwilling to do battle over
some random man who might just be lost, despite my instincts.
So I climb closer, peeking over a tree, I finally glimpse it
and see what appears to be a head of handsome bronze
and glowing teeth I know I've seen.
No. NO! It's ... Morgantuan!

"STOP! Who goes there? Explain yourself or lose your life
because this fire-breathing dragon isn't afraid to use its might."
The man turns, grabbing his spear but not moving to attack.
"I am known," he begins, "as Sir Trenton Runiford the Black,
and I come bearing the head of the beast that killed my family
with intent to repay his deeds in kind and prevent the swill's lone progeny
from ever doing what this villain did."
His words were labored but his purpose was clear: to kill my kid.
But I could understand. Morgantuan was a heartless murderer,
who spurned his son and me like discarded furniture.
It burned me up, still so love-sad. So I offered a treaty of peace.
I'd see that he leaves and let drop that he killed my son's dad,
but first I wanted one more look at Morgantuan's beautiful face.
Trent removed the head as I loomed with a gaze,
then, consumed with my rage,
burned the entire fucking head to ashes in one luminous blaze.

[Darth Yoda]

hungry hyenas gaze paragraph was the best.

not that u care which one is best or not, but intrigued me the most, probably cause of the climax, and subtlety . enjoyed. never read stories with pictures.

[Certain]

Yup, I'll still return any feedback, as I did for the good Darth Yoda.

[Eŋg]

well. you told your story. with a fairly convincing voice which rarely broke out of character... really not fond of that discarded furniture simile. fundamentals are sound, you have a good idea of what does and does not work rhythmically... your writing is cohesive, for the most part, linear too. progressive -- in this story driven format, if only at an ambling pace. imagery's palpable.

i didn't really enjoy it very much, and i stress that isn't (entirely) a gauge of you as a writer. it's the format. i assume this was written for a league? you decided to not experiment with your rhyme scheme? you felt, by and large, AABB was the way to go? to placate the readers? to make it consumable? lest their confusion consume them? you had somewhat pre-defined plot points to place? they were guide stones to anchor your piece and the rest wriggled between until it fit snugly.

to call it banal is unfair. to say predictable means i saw what was coming. i suppose i didn't. but i did. at no point did the writing really give me something to think twice about. something i didn't expect. something to stimulate? do i ask for too much? or am i just generally stating why i disliked this [sort of] template.

your craft is solid.

[dead man]

this was awesome.

brought me back to the days of writing tales of knighthood and wizardry. the epic soldiers of fortune. you took a perspective on it that i have never seen quite this way. i think the story of Runiford would have been most commoners' first instinct to write. but you have that sort of lateral approach to writing that transcends what first appears in a concept and turns it on its head.

you did indeed tell this story in a convincing and confident voice. it never got a point where it became corny - and there was potential for that based on principle alone - you wrote the mother dragon's story with the power of an experienced author of fiction.

there was no paragraph or stanza that stood out especially for me. even upon re-reading. but that says nothing negative about the work - simply that it only functions properly as a complete verse. sum of the whole > it's parts etc

even the dialogue was believable. insofar as the context of the piece was concerned

idk man i just really enjoyed this. great character sketch and better interpretation of a picture topic.

thanks


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