So here’s a snipet from one of my new short stories, The Banished God. It’s in it’s first draft, and I can tell you right now it’s not my best. But writing about gods interests me.
Around him there were trees striped of their leaves and earth as bare and black as if a raging fire had eaten it all. He was reduced to live in this wasteland, when once he lived in mighty caves with gems still part of the earth. Once he had a mate, Dracola, who was beautiful and fair. No dragon’s scales could match the way hers sparkled…the way her eyes glittered…the soft feeling of her wings against his…
“Dracola!” Dracolus raised his head to the clouded sky, as if somehow his mate could hear him. “Why did you leave me? Why did you abandon me?” The former dragon god let his wings droop. Inside he had never felt as empty as he had for the past decades and now it was building to a point he could not stand.
Why did he make that mistake? What had made him such a fool that he would start a war? Because of his rage he had caused the death of many dragons, as well as other magical creatures, and now the dragons of Sintheron were almost extinct. What would Sintheron do without its protectors, it’s Guardians? The dragons were the greatest creatures in that land, without it the kingdom will be nothing. It was what the other gods had told him before he was banished, it was what he was told would be his shame and burden, as he was thrown from the gods’ kingdom.
Then he had thought the words were empty, that the gods were trying to fool him. But he was proven wrong when he looked into a pool of Seeing Water. It was then he saw what disaster had befallen his people – new creatures, much like the elves and mages – had settled in Sintheron, slaying the surviving dragons of the Guardian War as well as the other magical creatures. The dragons did not have the strength or courage to fight these beings, these humans, so they suffered. All because of him – all because of his foolish rage.
Dracolus sighed, his eyes heavy and his scaly cheeks glistening, and sat on his haunches. This place, his home, was a curse, but he deserved it did he not? He had caused the deaths of innocent creatures and for the kingdom of his people – who he once called his children – to be taken over by men. How could he call himself a god? What good had he done for his people? “Dracola…I failed, didn’t I?” he whispered, voice choking. There was what felt like a rock in his throat, making it hard to speak.
So yeah. Heh. Still working on it. These are a few paragraphs from the middle. By the way, Dracolus and Dracola are the two dragon gods. It says that earlier in the story, but I felt these paragraphs were the best.
The Quill Stirs 