The New Story
On top of a mountain, flying so high -
On the back of a dragon, floating in the sky,
Past the tobacco, the chickens, and hens -
Past the pumpkins, the corn, and wheat, my friends.
We find Ember by an old barn -
The boy on her back smiling with charm,
The town around them, up in alarm,
Burnt to a crisp by dragons that harm.
A dream from the past finds Ember to spawn:
"A dragonfly," that's what the boy would have said -
If it wasn’t ten times the size, eyes full of dread,
And didn’t make a smile; it let out fire instead.
So the battle was on until that dragon was dead -
Ember blocked the outburst quick,
Her wing sparkled as it absorbed it,
The boy on her back almost fell with a fit.
He held tightly to his backpack fit,
As Ember let out her spit -
Her skin glowed, warmer just a bit,
Her fire blue with a golden tint.
The enemy dragon tried its best -
Moving to the side, wing up to block its zest,
But it didn’t absorb the fiery blast;
Its wings, its body, scales turned to ash.
The boy hopped off Ember at last -
Looking at her with starry eyes of glass:
“A chicken and a dragonfly, a scary task,”
Then walked over to the pile of ash.
He looked at it for a moment or two,
Yet didn’t cry, worry, or brew -
He looked at Ember; he knew what to do:
“You wait here, this town may be afraid of you.”
So off he went into the town of ash,
Looking for some help at last -
When just down the path he heard something lost in the past:
“Oh please, oh please, somebody help me.”
So the boy ran over to see,
And there, by an old oak tree -
Sat a little old lady.
So the boy on his new quest,
Ran right over and spoke from the chest:
“How can I help? What will it be?
I’m on a quest to do anything, see!”
The little old lady didn’t smile a tad -
She was far from grateful or glad,
Or perhaps she was just really sad
Looking at the child in pass:
“Oh dear child, you are too kind -
My husband left me and our daughter behind,
Looking for land he said he could find.
He went up the mountain, past the blind,
And no food is left or nothing I could find.”
The boy didn’t mean to do it -
But he smiled and laughed:
“That man, my father, and I -
We crossed his path, coming down the mountain’s mass.”
The little old lady looked more concerned:
“Speaking of fathers, where is yours?
This place is dangerous for sure,
You may not believe me, dragons I say -
Four or five before I hid away,
I came out just to take a peek,
And to get some help, you see.”
And that’s the start of our story.
