The sound of bloodcurdling screaming woke me up. It was coming from outside.
I leapt out of bed and bolted to the window to see what all the commotion was about, yanked up the blinds and there it was. A giant, fire-breathing dragon demolishing
the next town.
Well, at least I could thank 2020 for its consistency.
First the fires in Australia (A), then Kobe Bryant (B), the plague, better known as Coronavirus (C), and now this (D).
Another one for Alphabetised Apocalypse bingo.
“What do you suppose it is?” My twin Elora asked as she crept up beside me, pushing the glasses further up her button nose, which had a tendency to sweat when she got overexcited.
“What does it look like?” I replied with an eye roll. Despite the certainty of impending doom, there was always time for sarcasm. “It’s a fucking dragon.”
“I can see that, Danan.” Yep, you guessed it. Our parents were big Willow fans. “I meant, what kind.”
She proceeded to pull a book off one of the many badly made Ikea bookcases on her side of the room and began to flick through it.
“Aha!” Her eyes lit up in triumph as she handed me a tattered hardback copy of Myths Around the World. “It’s clearly a Culebre, better known as a Cantabrian. See the pattern of green and gold scales? Their spit is said to turn into a magic stone which can heal disease. They live in caves where they guard treasure and keep fairies as prisoners. On Midsummer night, its power is weakened and it’s possible for a hero to defeat the Culebre and make off with its treasure and one of its fairy hostages for their own. Midsummer is three nights away.”
She shut the book with an ominous slam that made me jump out of my skin, though I tried to hide it by glowering at her.
“Maybe you could slay the dragon, cure the Rona, and finally get yourself a date in one fell swoop.”