So, what does that mean? Well, each day, I'm going to tell you about a dragon - a dragon inspired by a name that I generated randomly using a name generator (I haven't looked up the derivation of any of these names, I have just run with how they make me feel, their sound on the tongue).
I'll tell you all about my Dragon of the Day, and share some flash fic about their lives. Any genre, any character, any look - prepare to be surprised and (I hope) entertained by my dragonly inspirations :).
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is for Björn
Björn is a groovy kind of guy. He’s been round the block a few times, done the whole Scourge of the Western Isles thing, burning down villages, stealing cattle, holding maidens hostage, but that’s all behind him now.
The last century or so had been one long spiral of depression, if he was honest, what with lots of people preferring to believe in quantum theory rather than dragons. Björn had retreated to the mountains, locked himself away in a cave and decided to hibernate until some more interesting peasants returned to the world. He hadn’t expected to be woken by a tinny thread of sound gnawing away at his ear. He’d been ready to singe the arse of whoever had dared to disturb his rest, but as he’d stalked down the tunnel to the cave entrance, something strange had happened: first he’d begun to sway his head in time with the rhythm; then, as the tune got under his scales, his stalk had turned into more of a swagger. He hadn’t been able to help himself, but the time he burst into the sunshine outside his home, Björn had been in full strut.
The humans had run away, screaming in terror, but that meant they’d left all their equipment, including the transistor radio that was the source of the miraculous, uplifting melodies, and Björn had been hooked. He’d spent all that day and the days following bopping to the insistent tunes and, when the batteries had run out, he’d gone in search of more of what he then learned was called disco. Since those heady days of the 1970’s, he's been collecting vinyl, and Björn, all forty foot of him, has been a fixture on the exclusive club scene in Uppsala where the more unusual inhabitants of the old Norse lands can share a grove.
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I'll tell you all about my Dragon of the Day, and share some flash fic about their lives. Any genre, any character, any look - prepare to be surprised and (I hope) entertained by my dragonly inspirations :).
~
~
is for BjörnBjörn is a groovy kind of guy. He’s been round the block a few times, done the whole Scourge of the Western Isles thing, burning down villages, stealing cattle, holding maidens hostage, but that’s all behind him now.
The last century or so had been one long spiral of depression, if he was honest, what with lots of people preferring to believe in quantum theory rather than dragons. Björn had retreated to the mountains, locked himself away in a cave and decided to hibernate until some more interesting peasants returned to the world. He hadn’t expected to be woken by a tinny thread of sound gnawing away at his ear. He’d been ready to singe the arse of whoever had dared to disturb his rest, but as he’d stalked down the tunnel to the cave entrance, something strange had happened: first he’d begun to sway his head in time with the rhythm; then, as the tune got under his scales, his stalk had turned into more of a swagger. He hadn’t been able to help himself, but the time he burst into the sunshine outside his home, Björn had been in full strut.
The humans had run away, screaming in terror, but that meant they’d left all their equipment, including the transistor radio that was the source of the miraculous, uplifting melodies, and Björn had been hooked. He’d spent all that day and the days following bopping to the insistent tunes and, when the batteries had run out, he’d gone in search of more of what he then learned was called disco. Since those heady days of the 1970’s, he's been collecting vinyl, and Björn, all forty foot of him, has been a fixture on the exclusive club scene in Uppsala where the more unusual inhabitants of the old Norse lands can share a grove.
~
My My
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It was dark and smokey in the club. A faint smell of sulphur on the air made Georg wrinkle his nose. Being a dwarf, he was used to the darkness of a mine, but here he smelt something else, he smelt dragon.
“Welcome, is this your first time at Ragnarok?” a fire spirit swooped down from her lamp and danced in front of Georg, her smile flickering in and out.
“Yes,” Georg replied gruffly, after all, he had dwarven reputation to uphold.
“Please let me show you to a table,” the sprite gushed and flitted around his head before leading off left between a troll chatting up a gygr.
Both females nodded to him as he passed by and Georg nodded back, rubbing the plaits in his beard self-consciously as he did so.
“Here you are, sir, can I get you a drink?” the fire spirit tripped around him as he sat down.
“Beer,” he returned.
“Of course, sir,” she seemed not to notice his shortness and flickered away to get his order.
Georg peered into the gloom, watching bodies passing bodies, wolfling sitting with serpent: this really was the neutral ground the adverts promised. Still, he didn’t quite trust it, and he sat stock still, watching and waiting, so, when the drumroll started he nearly jumped out of his seat.
The lights flashed over at the far end of the room, silhouetting a looming shape for brief seconds and Georg’s heart leapt into his throat: he had smelt dragon. He found himself gripping the edge of his table as the drumroll turned into a twanging rhythm: da, duh-duh, duh-duh,duh-duh; da, duh-duh, duh-duh,duh-duh. Georg bit his lip, this was really happening.
“Hello everybody!” a roar rumbled over the room and a spotlight lit a large red dragon seated behind a mixing desk..
Georg stood up rapidly, his chair going flying as a cheer went up over the opening line, ‘My, my, at Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender…’
It was true, it was all true. Georg grinned and began dancing.
“Welcome, is this your first time at Ragnarok?” a fire spirit swooped down from her lamp and danced in front of Georg, her smile flickering in and out.
“Yes,” Georg replied gruffly, after all, he had dwarven reputation to uphold.
“Please let me show you to a table,” the sprite gushed and flitted around his head before leading off left between a troll chatting up a gygr.
Both females nodded to him as he passed by and Georg nodded back, rubbing the plaits in his beard self-consciously as he did so.
“Here you are, sir, can I get you a drink?” the fire spirit tripped around him as he sat down.
“Beer,” he returned.
“Of course, sir,” she seemed not to notice his shortness and flickered away to get his order.
Georg peered into the gloom, watching bodies passing bodies, wolfling sitting with serpent: this really was the neutral ground the adverts promised. Still, he didn’t quite trust it, and he sat stock still, watching and waiting, so, when the drumroll started he nearly jumped out of his seat.
The lights flashed over at the far end of the room, silhouetting a looming shape for brief seconds and Georg’s heart leapt into his throat: he had smelt dragon. He found himself gripping the edge of his table as the drumroll turned into a twanging rhythm: da, duh-duh, duh-duh,duh-duh; da, duh-duh, duh-duh,duh-duh. Georg bit his lip, this was really happening.
“Hello everybody!” a roar rumbled over the room and a spotlight lit a large red dragon seated behind a mixing desk..
Georg stood up rapidly, his chair going flying as a cheer went up over the opening line, ‘My, my, at Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender…’
It was true, it was all true. Georg grinned and began dancing.
~
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I already love Bjorn and I haven't even read the story yet, just the intro :) Great work! You do realise you're going to have to expand on these and write a book when you're done. ;)
ReplyDeleteTasha
Tasha's Thinkings - Shapeshifters and Werewolves
:) - time would be a fine thing ;P
DeleteGreat work :) Love your writing...
ReplyDeleteLoved this.
ReplyDeleteBjorn is so groovy.
Anna
Thanks, he's a disco dragon!! ;P
DeleteHi Sophie - Bjorn the Dragon ... I bet he's got a healthy golden mane as he's a wonderful Viking Dragon ... cheers Hilary
ReplyDeleteLOL! Now that's a picture.
DeleteI would love the chance to party with Bjorn one day! I bet a dragon is great company on a night out!
ReplyDeleteBelieve In Fairy Stories: Theme - Folklore & Fairy Tales
I don't think there would be any problem with getting into clubs :)
DeleteHa! A disco dragon. Glad he got out of his funk.
ReplyDeleteDiscarded Darlings - Jean Davis, Speculative Fiction Writer, A to Z: Editing Fiction
I LOVE BJÖRN :D :D :D
ReplyDeleteThe Multicolored Diary: WTF - Weird Things in Folktales
Thank you :)
DeleteSounds like a very fun dragon!
ReplyDeleteMelissa
He has channelled his diva/scourge into disco :)
Deleteokay, that was a cool cat of a dragon. the 70s were his thing. i can see him in shades and bell bottoms. i really liked this one.
ReplyDeleteAh! Loved it. The 1970s dance music dragon!
ReplyDelete@JazzFeathers
The Old Shelter - 1940s Film Noir
Such lovely imagery!
ReplyDeleteYour stories are wonderful, thank you for the entertainment, and the many dragons!