Dragon Diaries - P is for Patrik - A to Z Challenge 2017 #AtoZChallenge

elcome to my contribution to the Blogging from A to Z Challenge 2017:

Dragon Diaries

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 Patrik

Patrik liked his own company, or, to be more specific, he didn’t like anybody else’s. He lived on an island in the Outer Hebrides that was just big enough for him and a few puffins, and he liked it that way very much. He’d even seen off a bunch of monks a thousand or so years ago who had thought his island would make a good hermitage: by doing what dragons do, making himself invisible and setting light to every structure they tried to build, he’d soon shown them the error of their ways and convinced them to find another island.

Over the centuries, he’d used the same trick to rid himself of some farmers, fishermen and even a scout for a reality tv series. It was very useful being able to control who could see him and who couldn’t, it was his piece de resistance and it had never failed him.

~

Now You See Me

Wittegen Press

FREE
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The wind howled overhead and Patrik hunkered down in his low-roofed dug out: it was at times like these he just warmed himself with his peat fire and relied on his supply of flame-dried fish to keep him from starvation. The gale had blown in out of nowhere, it was like that on his island, he was used to it and it was comforting in a blustery kind of way. He was listening lazily to the wind roaring over the ruins of the round huts those bloody humans had tried to build when he heard it, the putter of a boat engine, and that could only mean one thing: visitors.

Patrick grumbled to himself, but it was too cold and too wet to bother with his theatrics yet, he’d keep warm and wait to see if they stuck around. With any luck, they’d realise there was no proper shelter on the island and bugger off before he had to raise a claw. Closing his eyes and sticking his nose under one wing, he prepared to snooze away the rest of the storm.

Yet, his tranquillity was not to be, because shortly, he heard feet thudding overhead. He resisted the urge to roar his annoyance, instead, drawing in his magic and letting it ripple over his scales. To anyone who stumbled upon him, there’d be nothing to see save the sandy hollow and maybe some smoke from the peat. His shift was prudent, because in another few seconds a yellow wellie slid over the top edge of his shelter, swiftly followed by another and the legs that went in them. The human slid gracelessly off the ridge above Patrik’s home and landed with a squelch in the puddle that had formed just in front of it.

Patrik watched disdainfully with one eye as the equally garish sou’wester-wearing interloper righted himself, pushing the large hat back off his face.

“Graham, what the hell are you playing at?” an annoyed voice came from above: Patrik could relate.

“Slipped,” the young man returned, peering upwards into the pouring rain, “I was looking at the archaeology on the ridge and I missed my footing.”

“You’re a landscape archaeologist, you’re supposed to know where the drops are,” the disembodied voice tutted back.

Graham just shrugged and gave the voice’s owner a goofy grin as he stood up. That’s when the human looked directly at Patrik. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Patrik’s heart leapt into his throat, it couldn’t be, no-one could see him when he cloaked himself with his magic. Yet he watched, unmoving, his world slowing down in his horror as the ‘o’ became an even wider grin and he could see the spark in the human’s eyes.

“Geoff, you gotta see this!” Graham yelled up into the storm, not taking his eyes off Patrik.

“What?! We gotta get the tents pitched before we freeze to death!” Geoff snarked back.

Patrik couldn’t even breathe, he’d never had to face a human directly before, he didn’t know what to do. Graham waggled his head, open-mouthed in wonder, far too much attention for Patrik.

“I think I’m looking at a partially collapsed barrow,” Graham announced, finally looking back up to his companion to share his joy, Patrik was so relieved he nearly snorted his emotions.

“And I’m looking at horizontal rain; get your arse back up here and help me pitch this tent before I leave you in your bloody barrow for good,” Geoff did not sound happy.

Graham’s face fell, Patrik would even have suggested he looked crestfallen, but he was not going to do anything about it. He held very still, watching the human regroup and begin to scrabble round the side of his home. Finally, as those wellies disappeared, he let out a quiet sigh of utter relief and decided that, as soon as the storm had blown himself out, his visitors were going to have a little accident with campfire meeting tent.

~

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