The Unfortunate Tale of Crackle the Dragon

The Unfortunate Tale of Crackle the Dragon. Part Three: Stormfront

The Wing left shortly after to continue the migration. Every dragon had already gotten a relatively clear idea as to what had happened during that morning once The Patriarch of the Sapphire Clan proclaimed he would personally extract vengeance. Those who didn’t were informed by the massive wall of grey smoke rising from the other side of the valley, and the flecks of ash in the air. Looking back, the smoke obscured the sun, now raised from the peak, into a solid yellow orb, that seemed to stare at me. Even the heavens knew my guilt.

Thankfully, for the time being, my guilt and other evil thoughts were temporarily blocked out by the flying. Flying wasn’t particularly difficult for me, though because of my smaller wings and oblong physique, it proved challenging in the face of pressure systems and high winds. Not to mention carrying Fizzle on occasion. Because he could not fly very well, my family took turns carrying him, though because I enjoyed his company the most, I would end up with him a good portion of the time. It was bothersome, having a passenger that clutched onto my neck awkwardly, but I couldn’t have minded any less. Normally I would have talk to him about general things, enjoying the little yelp of emotion he gave off that passed for speech. But today I was very quiet, only really speaking when it was time to pass him off or take him on. He noticed, too. Occasionally I would hear a squeak of inquiry, but I seldom answered.

For two days, we traveled, over mostly forest. Then one night the front of the wing began to circle, signaling that we were going to rest there for the night. It was a large grass field with a stream running through the middle. There were a few large piles of gems lying about it, left by the host dragons of the area. My family picked up three each and moved to the area where the Emerald Clan was laying. We huddled together and prepared for sleep. I looked up at the sky. It was a cloudless night, and all the stars were out in their splendor, shining cheerfully. Even the moon, illuminated only partially, resembled a smiling face. How universe mocked me.

I looked down from the sky at Fizzle, who was rolling about on the grass like the silly idiot that he was. But I loved that idiot. I loved everything about him. His constantly smiling face, the way he played with insects, how he hopelessly chased butterflies while snapping at them with his tiny snout. He was still rolling, and bumped into a large purple dragon with green features. She arched her head up and stared at him, then at me, disapprovingly.

“Sorry” I said, genuinely. I thought he was cute but others didn’t always think so. Some dragons are too serious. Some have a reason to be, I suppose. Like me. Or Ms. Selewuck, the purple dragon I just talked about. Apparently her egg was stolen by a few pegasi while she was out for a walk and her husband was away getting food. Because she was supposed to be watching it, the blame fell on her, and her husband left her. After that she’s always been looked down upon by the clan. Everyone’s got their problems. I took Fizzle by the tail and dragged him back to the family, wedging him in between my mom and dad. It took a while, but I did eventually sleep.

Unfortunately sleep that night was plagued with nightmares. Over and over again I saw the images of the town being burned alive. I saw ponies running around while their skin burned away, eyeballs melting into the ground, and bodies piled on top of each other, a mass of black and smoke. Their screams were just as real as the morning I heard them. Those terrible screams, unlike any I have ever heard before. It’s one thing to hear a dragon, or pony, yell from surprise or mild fright, but being burned alive is another thing entirely. I saw Leon’s jaw struggling to move, and the mare twitching from underneath Garble. The worst part, though, was the filly crawling away. I still see her face. Even now it haunts my dreams. I still see her crawling, sometimes towards me, dragging her black, charred midsection behind her. I thank the universe that she never looked up. If she had, I might have killed myself that night, without hesitation dropping myself from the sky. I felt a tap.

I jumped awake. In front of me was an almost as startled Garble. We exchanged glances for a few seconds. I was confused, angry even. But I wasn’t entirely sure how to react.

“Hey” he said. “How’s it going?”

What a stupid question that seemed like. As if I were going to be anything but tremendously depressed by what had happened. What he caused to happen. But how did he feel? He couldn’t have possibly moved on. But if he did, surely he wasn’t fit to live any longer.

“Fine.” I said meekly. I was fairly certain he understood what I meant.

“Good. Good.” He spoke, somewhat avoiding eye contact. “Listen, me and the guys were talking, and we just wanted to make sure, you know, that you wouldn’t…”

He must have wanted me to finish his sentence.

“Tell anyone.” He finished.

Tell anyone. Of course not. I couldn’t live with myself if my family knew I helped to lie about that. That I may as well have killed them all myself. No. I could never look at any of them ever again. Especially not Fizzle. I thought of him, but dared not to turn around to look. Maybe I assumed Garble was dangerous. Of course now I know he never was dangerous. Just stupid.

“Never.” I said, firmly. This time I stared him directly in the eyes. I think he may have sensed this time what was churning around in my head, because he nodded slightly and flew off.

After that I didn’t sleep at all that night. I lay awake, thinking about how to end this entire episode. I thought of going back, offering myself up to any ponies who might be alive, letting them kill me. I thought of flying away that night, and committing suicide somewhere where they would never find me. But I couldn’t leave them like that. I couldn’t leave Fizzle, the only thing in this world that kept me from utter madness. I also couldn’t let the others go unpunished. Thinking back to that day, for the thousandth time that night, I remember how I felt right after the filly was crushed. That feeling. That feeling not of horror or pity, but of hatred. I remember the warmth of the blind seething hatred that ran through my veins, hotter than any dragon fire. I didn’t hate myself, no. Nor did I hate The Patriarch. It was them. It was Garble, and his two goons. They started all of this. They were my way out.

I spent the next few days thinking about how I was going to do it. And Mother Nature seemed to agree with thoughts as well. For during the next few days we endured a tempest like none I had ever seen, starting first with terrible gusts, then heavy rain, then a blizzard of snow and razor sharp hail. All this powered my vengeful mind. Each torrent of wind, each drop of rain, every ball of hail drove me further and further into the desire to murder. When the storm cleared, I concluded that our next rest stop was where, through any means, they would meet their end. The following day we arrived at the badlands, for a three days’ rest period. Perfect.

I thought about going to Bluster, asking if she would take care of Fizzle when I was gone, but I knew she would. If she loved him even half as much as she did me, he’d be fine. Also, she would certainly try to stop me. That day I went into the forest for ideas on how to do the deed. It came almost instantly when I spotted a phoenix nest perched high on a tree. Flying up, I saw that the eggs had already hatched (dragons smash phoenix eggs and inhale the smoke created for recreational hallucinating (get high)). This didn’t matter though, because my plan only required that they got close. I spent the rest of the day digging deep holes in the area, and driving sharp sticks into the bottoms. After this I placed a thin floor of leaves above them and placed a gem on top. The perfect dragon trap. Knowing them, they would all go for it at once, fall in, and skewer themselves. Then, if necessary, I would finish the job.

That night I slept plagued with nightmares, but not guilt, knowing that the next night would be their last.