14 | Psychopomp Magazine
Please, great Dragon, the sheep are spent. We have offered you every last one, withholding none for ourselves. We have nothing left to give. Ah, Dragon, we have nothing left to give!
On and on like that, he wearied me so. Weak and delirious from hunger, I spat fire at him. Shrieking, he escaped, and others ran to put out the flames in the dry grass. I closed my eyes and came around some time later to his hoarse voice.
Dragon, he called. Dragon!
I opened one eye. His skin was red and blistered, but he no longer looked a defeated man.
Dragon, mighty Dragon, we have brought you an offering today.
At his feet lay a girl, her hands and feet bound with thin ropes. She was sobbing.
This is Melinda, eleven years old. Dragon, please look kindly on us.
He bent to whisper something in the girl’s ear, but she screamed and screamed until he backed away. I waited until he retreated and the guards barred the city gates. Let him go on hiding his face from his dirty work. One such as he does not deserve to know his own iniquity.
Children. I have no real appetite for children, but I have no reason not to eat them when they are left out so easily for me. And I hate their crying.
I am becoming more and more what I am. My senses grow keener, and news comes to me on the wind. The kingdom holds a lottery every day to choose the child to be fed to me.
Algernon continues with the introductions. I have no inkling of what gave him that idea, but I’m a good listener.
Gavin, nine years old.
Arabella, five years old.
Malkyn, seventeen years old.
Walter, fourteen years old.