The Scale of Errors

Challenged myself after seeing a picture today.

Dark clouded skies ablaze with light,

Not born of storms or fingered lightning,

With hues of crimson, orange and gold,

Eeriest of sight upon this nighted sky,

As lofty form weaves between the clouds.

Silhouette of elongated blackened form,

With wings of the most hellish of bats,

Long neck leading to spike-crowned head,

Tail snaking behind a serpented form,

Yet with four taloned legs in tucked tow.

Below, a man coated in thick plated steel,

Dragging young woman behind in his haste,

Revolt upon her semblance so pure in design,

As clouds give passage to shadowed wyrm,

Crimson eyes burning with intent and desire.

Roar that rings out echoing over all the turf,

Shaking the very grounds and heavens justly,

As steely man throws lady to discard of earth,

Marred shield raised and sword choked tight,

In shadow of hovering doom haloed moonlight.

Rake shouting out to make his claim to her,

Dragon booms out redress to his empty words,

Laying no claim of damsel man would hold,

As no prize claimed from soul so fancy free,

but rather the impending imprisonment of her.

Wyrm takes from advantageous sky to the earth,

Tremor of ground digging in spear-like claws,

Whipping tail down between woman and brute,

Bearing fanged maw to put blades to shame,

Piercing stare through foe standing in defiance.

Wings folded in to keep form damaging attacks,

Letting steel fall upon his invulnerable scales,

Seeing to tiring of man-beast in frenzied melee,

All while careful to keeping her from undo harm,

Becoming resolved shield to her virtues so true.

As pitched attack leaves malefactor winded,

Panting breath and still of insults to foul wyrm,

Dragon takes to the attack and bite so quick,

Claws rending steel, flesh and bone with ease,

Ripping asunder he who would snatch her purity.

Scene no stained of crimson and broken steel,

Dragon uses forked tongue to removal of stains,

Only to feel soft touch through thickest scales,

As fair woman tears immaculate attire for rags,

Wash off the truest knight she has come to know.

As she tends to the beast of enormous stature,

For all the power he is timid to her in every way,

Not as that of pet or subservient nature by far,

More an equal of a kindred way unseen by all,

Tethered and bound to one another spirit and soul.

Cleaned of gruesome melee she rests upon him,

As gentle wing covers her from cool winds blowing,

Content in her safety his demeanor soothes in tow,

As slumber falls over them both under starry sky,

Reconnected once again as hearts beat in tune.

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

This is a dreary nature of a scene...
done in prose and tells the story quite well...
I would of liked that you put the picture in the work...
gives the reader a visual before the impact...
in your wording and the tell all signs of this piece...
yet the ending gives this a reverse order...
the dragon is the true knight...
and the knight is seen as the enemy...
she is the gold --- and the dragon --- a protector...

[Wynter Ignatius]

Thanks Glen - I saw a random post on Facebook about a challenge to write a story where the dragon was the hero and I ran with it.

[Glen Yumang Manese]

I see...good to read your work...