Andrew Mescheder

Scarlet on Black

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. They had, in fact, been mostly forgotten by the inhabitants of the hamlet nestled within. There had always been unwitnessed danger — previously missing sheep suddenly appearing once again, eviscerated — and perhaps folk unexpectedly succumbed to wanderlust more often here than in other places (or at least this was the reasoning behind sudden disappearances of heretofore reliable persons), but ‘dragons’ were never a viable alternative to more simple, mundane explanations. No, fanciful creatures of yore were better suited as a rod for unruly children refusing their night-rest — a threat, a consequence. But the signs were there, and perhaps if they’d been heeded, what happened that fateful day could have been prevented; perhaps those involved would still be alive; perhaps a girl, full of guileless youth, would have been spared a lifetime of nightmares.