Spring meant that the humans would be imitating his form, donning a fabric carcass created in his image. Every year he was outraged by their presumptuousness. They had his looks right, leftover from a time when humans gave him due respect, but they did not know him. They did not know how he moved.
He was Dragon.
They would dance the night away, light their firecrackers, perform their rituals. None of them would look to him. They no longer believed.
He was Supreme. He was beyond their mortal ways.
But if he was completely honest, he was bummed that they hadn’t invited him to the festival.
FlashFlood is brought to you by National Flash-Fiction Day UK, happening this year on 27th June 2015.
In the build up to the day we have now launched our Micro-Fiction Competition (stories up to 100 words) and also our annual Anthology (stories up to 500 words). So if you have enjoyed FlashFlood, why not send us your stories?
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