Fiction: Group 2
The Dragon
Shatin Junior School, Ying, Zoe - 9, Fiction: Group 2
he dragon was old.
Its scales were torn and scrapped, thick and brown.
And it looked at me with
its yellow cat’s eyes.
There was a puzzled expression, though it was hard to tell, on its face.
At last
it nodded.
It could tell I was not foe.
It started its tale.
“Long ago,” said the dragon, “my tale began.
I was still young, with hope to have a big family with lots of
sons that can help expand my territory.
I had just laid my first four eggs.
Three hatched.
I expected this, as
it was only my first time.
Although there were only three, they were all boys.
I was very excited.
One day, disaster struck.
I was sitting in my cave nursing my sons, when a lion came in.
I stood up.
I had
to protect my sons!
I roared at the lion, but he pounced on me.
He scratched me, so I shot flames at
him.
Disaster!
His skin seemed to be fire proof!
I was losing!
At last to end the battle the lion bit me on
the neck.
I roared in pain.
As a punishment, he took one of my sons.
I was very depressed.
More sadly I
lost another son to another animal in later battle.
A few months later, I peeked out of my cave.
I saw a younger lion, presumably the lion’s cub, playing with
my son.
I felt a twinge of sadness.
I wished he’d one day come back.
After what felt like a century, the evil lion returned my son back to me. The other son also came back.
I
had since losing my sons had eight more children but they were all girls.
I was overcome with happiness
because this meant I now had eleven children, eight girls and three boys.
My long-lost son told me about his adventures, how he met the lion’s many friends and talked with them,
he flew with bald eagle and summersaulted many times, cartwheeling until he was very dizzy.
Stag taught
him how to run very fast.
Tiger showed him how to roar very loudly.
But most of the time he was talking
about how free he was to do anything he wanted.
I sort of love-hated my son, as I loved how he was cleverer, brighter, than all my other children, but I
hated how I could not control him, make him do what I wanted him to.
I wanted him to marry one of my
friend’s daughters, with three choices.
But he rebelled from me and tried to choose a foreign princess.
I
refused, of course.
’I’m your mother!’ did not work. ’That dragon is foreign!
It will affect the safety of your
own race!’ did not work either.”
The dragon sighed heavily.
“This reminds me of Hong Kong and the other ten cities in the Pearl River Delta,” I told the dragon.
T
