As a foreword, I honestly typed my first entry on mobile. I was dissatisfied with it, and took a slightly different spin on the prompt. This new piece is one I'm actually proud of, embracing a far more terrifying take on what Dusty's captors actually are or aren't. I've always loved the idea of the phantasmagorical, and I finally found what I think to be a decent horror subject I can write on effectively. One where my details drive nails into the reader's mind that have written on them the full weight of the terror the character experiences on them.
I do hope you enjoy reading, but do be aware this piece is far longer than my prior. And to other contestants... that it's not about winning or losing, but experiencing writing for what it is. An adventure that others can shape with their creativity, emotions and experiences and using them all together to help yourself grow as a writer. Thanks especially to Jay, the Story Clan leader, for giving me the necessary motivation to write to my fullest extent.
Chapter One
Captive in a Most Familiar Place
Dusty’s nest was a simple thing. It was just the right size for the young gryphon, not fancy enough to attract many, if any, potential mates, and was very weathered from disrepair. But all the same, it functioned for him, and so he never bothered to make a new one. Nestled into a large oak tree with an odd “leaf window” where the tree had a bare spot, Dusty had gone to work making it his home. And so he had lived there, flying into the more dense population when he was requested or when he finished a hunt. Much like his nest, his life, too, was simple.
Dusty tended not to stay up too long after the sun set. Nor did many other gryphons, who preferred to see well when flying. The sole exception was the owl gryphons. They lived a bit more secluded than even Dusty, opting not to bother the other villagers with their noise and hunting. Of course, they might not have noticed the other gryphons living as far out as them, as was the case one night.
The young gryphon, nestled comfortably against his twig and grass bed, tossed and turned. It was unusual for him to recall his dreams, or even dream at all, according to himself. But he thrashed barely less than someone experiencing a seizure. Inside his head, there was no reason to stand still.
“Dragon!” Came a cry from above the canopy, as Dusty pulled his beak from his fresh prey and glanced skyward, seeing the call coming from one of the border watch, specifically the bird most hungry for action. To hear him crying out in alarm as he flew away was not something Dusty had ever seen, nor even expected to see. But as he turned back, he saw in horror as black flames lapped at the bases of the trees making up the outer territory of his home.
An even younger gryphon, barely older than a fledging, hurriedly exited the flame, screaming out in terror as she felt the flames burn at her feathers. The scene was so uncharacteristic and sudden that Dusty froze as the dove-lynx began to scrape her back against the dirt, trying to put out the flames. Instead, the dark blaze only spread, now scattering to new trees as the flood of fire seemed to seek out and burn whatever it could manage.
“Help me!” She cried at Dusty, whose eyes turned upward just as the claw of a massive dragon landed atop her, pinning her with the distinct crackling sound of bones breaking. Her eyes, swimming with tears of pain and terror, soon grew dull as the other gryphon looked up at his adversary. Terror wracked his bones as he took a step back, paws quivering.
The dragon seemed to drip some sort of vile liquid from every inch of its massive body, the wings scraping the trees and the liquid coming ablaze immediately, making those awful ebon flames. His eyes were barely visible, but he possessed sickly yellow eyes and a gaping maw upturned into a sickening, entertained grin. As the liquid coating on his scales dripped, it began to burn and spread. Truly a nightmarish situation, especially given—
Dusty’s eyes shot open as the dragon lifted a claw, but was pinned to a tree. A hawk gryphon, possessing the features of a lion, had speared the dragon’s claw to a tree, causing a massive gout of flame that Dusty could feel. What was more, he knew this gryphon.
“D-dad…” Dusty called weakly, the figure of his father’s beating wings against the flames filling him with sorrow. It was now that he knew this was a dream. His father and mother had never returned from his hunt years ago when a dragon was spotted in their territory. It was the first act of draconic aggression in years, but the neighboring drakes and wyverns claimed they saw a green dragon with two corpses of prey that looked hawk-like, one in its teeth and the other still struggling in its clutches.
The dragon bellowed as it swatted at the nuisance, struggling to tear the lance embedded in his palm and the tree out, but Dusty’s father was too fast. However, he made the fatal flaw of flying under the claw. Dripping onto his back, the liquid immediately lit his father’s wings and ebon flames soon engulfed his form.
“Father!” Dusty cried, now moving for the first time as his wings carried him into the air and towards his father, who was now flying off towards a clearing that was yet to be ignited. Soon, the flames would spread even more, though a mist began to roil in from the opposite direction, growing thicker as he approached his father’s burning form.
The obscuring mist didn’t affect the sight of his father, who was burning hotly enough to evaporate the moisture in the air around him. Dusty’s expression was the same one he gave the elder when he informed the fledgling of his parents’ demise. They landed roughly, Dusty disregarding himself as he tried what he could to save his only parent.
After he had landed, though, his father weakly gasped for breath as they flames seemed to permeate into his mouth and deeper into his body, burning him on the inside as well. Before long, he saw for the first time what his father looked like lifeless, reaching out for help that never came. Mortified, Dusty fell to his leonine knees and began to weep.
Until a new form leaned over him. A tall, but sleek form, with eyes that were all too familiar. As he looked up, even though tear-stained vision, he knew that it was his mother. And instead of her normal, loving gaze, it was one of hatred and fury. Dusty opened his beak to speak, but was cut off immediately.
“You let him die.” She accused. Dusty choked on a sob as he tried to find words to even explain himself. “You let us die, do you realize that?” Hearing his mother’s voice make such awful accusations, even he couldn’t argue. His mother was always right, even now, from beyond the grave. “Dusty, you’re no hatchling of mine. You’re a failure.”
Flames from his father’s corpse now licked at his mother’s tail as she, too, was engulfed in flames. The mist was so thick now that Dusty couldn’t see her. But he could hear her screams of terror as she flailed, even drowning out the sound of the forest now burning all around them. Crackling flame, deathly screams, and unbridled sobbing filled the air around him as the misty air was so thick that it may as well have been water. Soon, his sobs were replaced by gasps as he felt his lungs fill with water. And just as he felt himself begin to burn, as his lungs refused the water, and he felt his consciousness slipping from drowning, he was struck hard.
“Gah!” Dusty cried, leaning up off of a branch. He glanced around, knowing this to be his tree, his home, but seeing no nest. Instead, there was an owl gryphon beside him, covered in branches and debris. There were several bits of tree now missing from his home…
“Ow, ow, sorry…” Came the voice of the owl. He tilted his head a whole 270 degrees before it popped, and he sighed in relief. “Oh, man. That sneaky little winged mouse.”
Dusty blinked. His heart was beating out of control in his chest and his lungs were working overtime, now “free” of the moisture within them. “What… What?” Dusty couldn’t even manage a full question of the odd statement. A winged mouse?
“You know, they come around here at night.” The owl said, picking himself up and slipping onto a rather narrow branch for his weight. “Well, guess you wouldn’t, you don’t seem much of a night owl. Hoo hoo!” He laughed heartily as he offered a talon to the still-trapped Dusty.
“You gotta be kidding me.” Dusty said. It was unclear based on where he was looking if he meant his lack of nest from the crash or the absolutely atrocious joke at this time of night. The owl shook his head.
“Well, might have done you a favor. Right before I crashed, you sounded like you were dying. Good thing you don’t have neighbors or you’d have woken them all up, raving like a mad bird.”
Dusty sighed. Well, he was certainly glad to be freed of that terrible nightmare. That was for certain. He sighed and decided to let it go. He needed a bigger nest, a nicer one to attract a mate. And why not build one now that he was homeless anyway?
“Well anyway, I’m gonna keep chasing that mouse.” The owl no sooner finished his sentence as the branch below gave way under their weight, snapping loudly as they plummeted, smacking seemingly every other branch on the way down before they struck the forest floor below. Dusty growled irritably as he began to stand up.
“What do you think you’re—“ When he turned, he didn’t see the owl gryphon. Instead was a hawk gryphon, large and imposing. His father.
“Oh no. No, no, no.”
“You let me die, Dusty.” He said, eyeing his son with a gaze that was sharp as dagger-talons.
“You’re dead…” Dusty pleaded, looking away. He could hear something slight, but he dismissed it immediately.
“ me in death.” His father pounced him and talons ripped into his neck and wing as Dusty was violently attacked. The tears were once more flowing, as Dusty tried to decide what was real and what wasn’t. What was clear, though, was how very wrong something was. He felt blood dripping down his chest and back as he tried to defend himself against his father, pinning him down with all his weight and force.
Again, the noise. Louder this time. “Hey, chill out!” Dusty’s mind seemed to shift as he suddenly opened his eyes. The owl gryphon now replaced his father as he panted and shook his head.
“The fall knocked you out… You got night terrors or something? You were saying some grim stuff about death.” The owl gryphon had marks along his chest, and Dusty noticed his talons were bloody.
“I didn’t mean to… The nightmares, they won’t stop now.” His blood froze as he heard the cry of a dragon in the distance. He leapt up almost immediately, to the surprise of his companion. “They’re coming! The dragons!”
The owl simply blinked at him. “We haven’t had a war with dragons in thousands of years, bro.” He seemed very calm despite the fact that a dragon just roared. Dusty now knew this was all happening inside of his head. But what frightened him now wasn’t the dragon or his dead parents but… What separated reality from horrifying fantasy. The lines were rapidly blurring.
“Help me… Help, what’s your name?”
“Snowblown.” The owl replied. Well, he was clearly a snowy owl, and he bore the markings of a white tiger. “You really seem like you could use the help, what’s wrong?”
Dusty felt his eyeslids growing heavy. “I-I can’t sleep. Nightmares. They’re not normal.”
“So you want me to get rid of the nightmares?” Snowblown gave him an odd look.
“No! Keep me awake.”
“For how long? I’m gonna go to bed here in a few hours.”
“You don’t understand!” Dusty cried. Snowblown couldn’t help but notice the frustration wasn’t coming from Dusty’s seeming paranoia, but from how tired he looked. Bags under the eyes, pale talons, straining voice. He looked positively sleep deprived.
The owl sighed. “Fine. Listen, the elder will know what to do. But… You wake him up. He gets mad when we do it.” It was clear he meant owls, and likely because they were awake when the other gryphons were asleep.
Dusty nodded as he began to fly off with his companion into the night sky. The full moon hung lazily in the sky on its downward ark. Stars twinkled above in an almost mesmerizing way. And his course began to dip as well.
Snowblown immediately dove under him and pushed him back up as they brushed along some leaves. “You /really/ need help.” He laughed, moving away.
“Hey… I thought tonight was supposed to be waxing gibbous.” Dusty commented with a yawn.
“That was nights ago. How long have you been asleep?”
Dusty didn’t know how to respond as his fear of falling asleep became the sole thing keeping him awake.
“And when did your wings and neck get hurt?”
Dusty looked in horror at his chest, covered in his blood. Even his wings were trailing some blood specks across the treetops. “It’s real. All of it actually happened.”
“You’re… Not kidding, are you?”
“Snowblown, I have a lot to tell you…”
Comment