by John Xero
My ancestors sing through the green. I hear their words, but do not understand. I feel the call, but cannot follow. My progenitors were deconstructed and decoded; recoded, reworked and rebuilt as me: pliant servant, deadly slave.
I move beyond concrete and rock, bypassing physical barriers and alarms, and slip into something comfortable, an innocent overwatered succulent. The humble office plant: backdoor into an impregnable fortress.
I step out, growing thorns, talons... and strike.
My green eyes are blind to all that should have been mine. My world is greys and reds. Where there should be life, I am death.
One of the drabbles I wrote for 101 Fiction issue 3, that wasn't ready or, I thought, as good as some of the others I had written.
I was slightly down on submissions for issue 3, so I actually used three of my own in the end. But I treated them as I treat all submissions - if I don't think it's good enough, it doesn't go in, regardless of numbers. Accepting, of course, the inevitably reduced objectivity that comes with judging your own work.
It being May 1st, we're halfway through the submissions period for Issue 4. The themes are fantastic this time round - summer, and dragons!
Please, give it a go. A one hundred word story inspired by one or both themes.
Full submissions details are here.
And I've done a dragon drabble before, if you want to give that a read too. =)