Blue Mooney Fantasy Flash Fiction

I skim my fingertips over a satiny cascade of scales, riding the crests and coils of the beast’s tail. “Reptilian rose petals,” I say to the night and instantly regret it. If no one can hear me, am I still an asshole?

Yes.

Yes, I am.

The creature’s hide shimmers against the night, the living emerald mosaic touched by headlamps and moonbeams, every scale edged in silver.

“Nope, nope…”

Shaking out of weary poetics, I press my palms against the beast. Its firm flesh pushes back. No response. Distracted by a distant roar, my eyes asses of their own accord: stubby horn nubs, round belly. Skinny wings. This is a young thing. Just graduated from infancy.

Beautiful.

Pity.

… Here we go.

I get a sturdy grip on the base of its tail and pull.

“Holy…”

My muscles burn in seconds. “Come on… move!”

I grunt and curse and strain, hurling almighty effort into my shoulders.

The beast budges.

I dig in my heels. Inch by inch, I heave half a ton of mythical roadkill off the highway.

Finally, the job’s done, but not before I’ve slipped in bloody, sulfur-stinking slime and hit the dirt—twice. Goddamn, I’m stiff. I crack my neck, and a sigh escapes me. That’s the third carcass tonight. These mountain passes are the worst.

A massive freighter roars by—way too close. Asshole. If I hadn’t stopped to clear the road, they’d have a serpent-splattered windscreen and an overturned trailer. I whip off my sweat-soaked cap before it takes flight and tense as the monster’s slipstream slams into my dented truck. I hold my breath. It rattles, bouncing wildly, but doesn’t tip. One day, I won’t get so lucky. Gotta get that suspension fixed before…

The freighter swerves, its horn blasting pure savagery as a low flier screeches overhead. The glare of the truck’s high beams rebound off a massive hazard sign ahead, hurling its warning into my squinting eyes.

Here there be dragons.