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Viatouch - Story Station

Winged Messiah
by Steven L. Shrewsbury

 
"For never can true reconcilement grow
 
 
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep."
 
 
JOHN MILTON  
 
Paradise Lost  
 
1665  

I rushed to the birthing cavern, slithering around my brethren to see if it was true. Indeed, in the air pocket that housed the eggs, the Chosen one had been born. We were stupefied at his appearance, but the birth could never be denied. Told by sages from ages long ago, we believed our savior would come.

Many of the young ones sang, giddy, and then swam in swirls like myriad fools. I reminded them not to risk exposure in their glee. We didn't need trouble from those animals on the surface. Their time would come.

Ahh, but the temptation to join in the youths bubbled in my brain for I shared their fevered elation. In my centuries of life under the waters as I led these dragons, I hoped for such a reality before my life passed over. There he was, mewling, growling and perfect, an utter dream slipping out of a giant shell. None like unto him has been seen on this planet in over three thousand years. So long did we toil under this current guise that many thought the legends of great dragons were just that, fanciful tales spun by the dreams of Terran children. Many thought our current subdued state our natural one, but I never wanted to accept that.

From our great magic minds, we have long fed on those dreams, reading the thoughts and fears of mankind. They dreamt of dragons and realms long ago, not realizing their victory over us in ages past a tangible reality. It was their mighty men of old that drove us off land and made us seek refuge below the surface. These men broke our spirits and forced our minds into such dismal shame. Perhaps this indignity led to our deformity and contemporary status, thus robbing us of our majesty.

However, this fresh one is going to change all that. Yes, this young one is better than a Red Heifer to some races above, or their Son of Man riding on a steed out of the sky. For this dragon child born is more beautiful than words. My eyes at last rested on a dragon born with wings.

After he breeds a new race of dragons, he will rise up on those wings and lead them against the cattle on land, so easy a prey there never was. The Terrans have bred out all of the primal qualities of their kind, much as our unwillingness to fight made our wings go away. I hope I see the day this young one stretches forth his wings and guides the dragons out of the murky depths of Loch Ness.

The End

STEVEN L. SHREWSBURY is the author of over 350 tales published online or in print. His epic novel THRALL will be released late in '07 from ELDER SIGNS PRESS. His fourth novel, GODFORSAKEN, was nominated for Foreword magazines book of the year. His fifth book, THOROUGHBRED, was released in '06 by Carnifex Press. He is currently writing new books and co-authoring projects with Brian Keene, Maurice Broaddus, and Peter Welmerink. His stories can be read in HARDBOILED CTHULU, DEATHGRIP: EXIT LAUGHING, and HELLS HANGMEN.

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