Once again you all totally knocked our socks off; the foggy field summoned dragons, aliens, murder, vengeance, magical artifacts, miracles, pregnancy, and more. Thanks so much for coming by, getting those creative juices flowing, and fist-bumping other writers. Remember to check back Monday to see one story featured in Flash Points.
Judge Beth Peterson says, It was a fantastic group of stories! Rather interesting how so many people had themes touching on death and/or (often gloomy in tone) rebirth. (But trust a social scientist to note such things, LOL.) Kudos to all of you!
And without further ado:
Special Non-Winning Mention
Lupus Anthropos (@LupusAnthropos). Even though you were blowin’ smoke up our beloved Dragon Leader’s skirt, this was still a well-crafted story and thoroughly enjoyable.
Stephanie B. (@B4Steph). A strong concept and story! Loved the word-picture of “shook and dangled in the cold breeze like a Halloween skeleton.”
Maggie Duncan (@unspywriter) for “An Expected Phenomenon.” A delightful playfulness with your title! Expected and unexpected are masterfully entwined in this story! Great piece!
And our foggy, amazing CAN YOU BELIEVE IT ROCKIN’
TOP DRAGON WINNER….
Love the subtle literary reference to dragon’s teeth AND that you thusly managed to incorporate dragon teaching (mentioned above the prompt) into your story! Further, you even invoked the few tufts of grass in the photo as the “yellow, brown, red, and black tufts now dotting the earth.” Great emotional impact, and yet with a twist as the joy and happy anticipation are welded together with their own sacrifice of themselves. Well-conceived, well-written! Congratulations on a well-deserved win!
Bette breathed deep, the damp musty scent of fresh earth burning her lungs. Something about that scent, that promise of new life to come, was always irresistible. The fog hid the city beyond the fields; the city she had left nearly a year earlier when the call came. The plague had wiped out nearly everyone and a return to the fields, unused for generations, was the only hope. Return to the earth, work the fields, bring forth the harvest.
Bette smiled at the arrival of the other survivors. They stretched the length of the field, one for every four sprouts expected. They strained their eyes for signs of the first growth. A moment later a shout of joy erupted as the first were spotted. With giddy laughter they filed into their places, marveling over the yellow, brown, red, and black tufts now dotting the earth. The survivors took their places across the field and readied their knives. A quick bite into flesh and Bette fell, knowing that in a few hours the harvest would mature. Fed by the blood of the survivors the next generation would spring forth with all the knowledge of the last, ready to rebuild the world.