Upon the hill brow that sweet morrow, frosted as it was, I saw a grin of white. Or perchance, I suppose, 'twas a frown. Either way, those pearly glimmers were whale-ish in all respects. So tiny! So many! So broad-a-beam!
Through a frame of verdant foliage came a fork of white-blue lightning. The midday sun had been silenced to an almost twilight grey. The rain beat down in such drumming waves that the tree canopy could have been simple bare winter branches. The air that had been heady with floral scent an hour ago had become a cold scream over the skin, raising goosebumps and billowing the clothes. Until they reached the comfort of home, there would be no shelter from this sky-born rage.
The water dragon flowed in the water with the grace of a kelp forest. Her fins were long green-blue ribbons in the currents. Coral reef fish were flowers to her heart and soul, as were the vivid coral reefs. She lived for those places, for the community with both seals and sharks. She bathed in the aroma of the life they gave. Thus, when the bleaching began, when her beloved home became a white carpet of skeletons, she was bereft. That, legend has it, is when the trouble began.
Electricity being alive is no more strange than any other matter experiencing a thought or feeling. You yourself are chemicals and electrical flow, are you not? Some dragons do not come from an egg, but rather from a surge of energy. The gods, for either reason or whim, chose to birth one into a world. Earth had never had a lightning dragon until that fateful day. The clouds had wrapped the entire planet into a dark storm of wind and rain. The thunder shattered windows and age old buildings fell into rubble. Then at once every little wisp of grey cloud, every ounce of lightning, every growl of thunder, shrank and took the form of a mighty winged dragon.
Legends arise from feats of soul. When the pure heart beats the monsters for for the betterance of all, when virtue is upheld, their story becomes a never-fade echo for the ages.
As if in mirror-call to the blooms of sister spring, autumn blushed her hearthful hues. Robust greens bowed to these most placid of flames, these tree born butterfly wings.