The Fantastic Adventures of Mr. Crackle the Dragon and I

by LunaUsesCaps

Rating: everyone
Tags: Adventure, Sad
Length: 761

If I told you a story so unbelievable, abstract, and irrational, would you listen? Or would you turn away from my world's imaginary glisten? Don't ask how it ends, just follow me—we'll see how deep this rabbit hole can be.

If I told you a story so unbelievable, abstract, and irrational, would you listen? Or would you turn away from my world's imaginary glisten? It may leap without reason or stand without truth; it might speak to not even the soul of your youth. Don't ask how it ends, just follow me—we'll see how deep this rabbit hole can be.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-27 15:54:36 UTC

If Only I Could Fly Faster

I pulled my hat hard over my forehead as the dragon’s wings kicked up a merciless breeze. My heart pounding, I looked up from my safe spot behind the tree trunk just in time to see the the monster’s jet-black reptilian tail slip past us. I inhaled deeply as I pulled the two pistols out of my jacket and cocked them with a short spark of magic. I relaxed all my muscles, breathing out slowly as I turned to my partner in crime—my unassuming Clyde. Crackle, who looked like he was about to sweat the gems right out of his crusty, green skin, simply shot me a googly-eyed glance. I grinned, laughing bitterly.

Sorry to start this in medias res, but I don’t exactly have time to explain right now.

“I don’t know how we’re going to make it out of this one, buddy,” I said, arching my neck in front of the tree to catch a glimpse at the trouble that awaited us. “But I’m not going to die here having not tried, so on my signal…”

I slammed my eyes shut.

“Go!”

With a scream—and absolutely no time to think—we both turned from our covers, running full speed at the snarling, menacing beast. I shot my wings open and, as I felt eight stubby feet land on my back, leaped into the sky with all my might. I felt hot, ash-tinged air rush through my coat as the dragon’s black face greeted mine; however, just as soon as I laid eyes on him, he vanished. The world fell.

“A waterfall!” I shouted, gaping as I looked down. “Hang on!”

I tucked my wings in, holding my pistols in front of me as I shot at the falling dragon’s back. Electric blast after blast left each gun, and before I had time to register the demon’s screams of terror, I felt the weight vanish from my back. I stared wide-eyed as Crackle leapt from me, closing into the opposing dragon’s face before unleashing a dreadful, silencing breath of white flames onto its horrific visage.

The dragon let out one more pained cry before rocketing skyward, racing far out of our reach and soon into the invisible distance. Just before his flailing body hit the water, I threw my wings open, bucking upwards and catching Crackle. Waves of turbulence below my body gradually died out as I came to a slow halt in the now-peaceful river.

I looked upward at the waterfall as he climbed off of my back. “Nice time for a snack, don’t you think?” I asked, turning to face the vague patch of sky our enemy had sped off towards before tipping my hat to the fallen challenger. “I’m feeling pretty hungry myself.”

This wasn't where everything started; it's just where it got interesting.

You see, everyone has a story to tell: whether it’s true or imaginary, bold or common, exhilarating or thoughtful, everyone has one. Be it laced with delicate, finely executed prose, or rampant, violent intensity, everyone has a story. We’d all like to think that what we say changes something, someone, even if it doesn’t. It usually never does. I’m not here to change anything; I only hope that my memories are well enough to do justice to this ancient tale. This is the secret I’ve kept—the part of me that made me who I am now. It may not matter, and it may not change things, but maybe, just maybe, it’s a little bit fantastic.

“Aye,” Crackle said, boasting his thick, Manechester accent. “Can think of nothing better myself. What’s on the menu?”

I trotted ashore, flicking the water off of my hooves as I settled down next to an old tree stump. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out medium-sized apple and a not-too-rusty pocket knife. I placed the apple gently down on the stump before igniting an aura around the knife, flicking it open and shooting its blade down through the apple. Like startled rats, both halves of the apple fell to the stump in unison.

“This suit you?” I asked sardonically. It wasn’t as if the stump was some kind of variety buffet.

“Quite alright, chap,” he replied, apparently immune to my sarcasm. He smiled wildly before smashing his drooling, ugly, oversized jaw down on the stump to swallow his half of the apple in one gulp.

“I’ve had better,” he quipped, casting his comically large-eyed gaze off to the side and sighing.

I almost forgot how much I admired that obscure creature.