A Tale of Dreams and Dragons.

The Dragon and the Prince. That was what the sign had said. That is what they had all expected. Adventure and fantasy: Dragon slaying princes, clad in shining armour, saving the helpless maiden from a burst of scorching flame. But It did not matter, because what they got, in a way, was even better. The actors and actresses had flounced about the stage, singing and dancing, and weaving a story with the art of it.

The audience loved it. Until it changed.

The crowd's clapping ceased. The silence echoed around the theatre, booming against one wall only to crash against the next. The audience members shied away, their eyes trying to decide whether to open wide, or shut tight to block out the stunning images being shoved in front of them. They fidgeted in their seats.

A child started whispering loudly to his mother. “Mum, me scared. I want home! Please?” The child’s squeaking voice gained volume as they continued to beg their mother, whining and whining.

A baby’s wail rang out. A harsh laugh rang out to match it. A woman with hair as black as the feather of a crow, stood at the centre of the stage. The knife in her hand still dripped crimson blood onto the polished floor. The corpse in front of her bore resemblance to a young man, but so were his wounds, that none could fathom that he, whose smiles shone radiantly upon adoring fans just five short minutes before, was that same man.

The woman’s laugh changed in pitch, gaining in momentum until the vibrations spread through the floor, reaching up into the core of all who watched in horrified suspense. She dropped the knife, it landed with a startling clang. Many observers flinched in surprise. As if they had been wishing, praying with all they possessed, that this was not real, that if they remained unearthly quiet, none of this would exist. The features of her face took a form of fury so terrifying, it left many men, and women alike, with soiled pants.

“Get out!”

She shrieked with a suddenness most unsettling. This was when the screaming started.

The people in the audience came back into themselves, their screams reflecting off the dome shaped walls of the theatre. They scrambled to stand, and ran as fast as their feet could carry them. They shoved and screamed, bit and clawed, until they found the door and flung it open. The burst of light stunned them. They were brought to a brief, unified halt. But like the tide comes in, it must go out. Altogether they rushed forward in an overwhelming wave. A mother’s scream was lost in the crowd just like her child. A baby cried his unrest as he was jostled in his father’s arms.

There were sirens blaring through the streets. But none came to them, no one was coming as the city went up in a collective roar of smoke and sound.

Nothing but silence waited for the woman on the stage, she had fallen to her knees; The blood soaking her silken gown. Her eyes grew blank after the turmoil she had just felt. The man in front of her was dead, she knew that with a certainty beyond what was necessary. His throat was in shreds, where she’d slashed, wanting, with a want so desperate, for his blood to well from his skin and touch the air that he defiled with the very breath from his lungs.

“He should atone for his sins,”

she had thought. Yet, for whatever reason, she couldn’t recall what they were. Tears ran unchecked down her face, down her rounded and pasty white cheeks, down her thin nose. She tasted salt, whether from the tears on her tongue or the blood released from it, she did not care. She faced up; there was an angel looking back at her, forgiveness in their gaze. The painted figure was lifelike, with gilded wings of softest white. The woman smiled up at it.

She reached for the knife she had dropped earlier, she felt its cold hilt in her palm; It slipped in her grip, blood coating her hand in seconds. She brought the point to her heart; She closed her eyes and with a breath, she struck her mark.

The city was in chaos; the girl knew because she could see it. She was crouched in the supports of the London Bridge, she’d been sliding slowly closer to the edge, preparing herself to jump, but had stalled when the sirens started. The smoke spiralled, in gargantuan plumes it filled the sky, as if the sky was not endless, but merely the size of your kitchen.

She saw the cause too. They flew in arcs, diving down to litter the city below in flames, then ascending to pump the flames with their wings as if taking a moment to breathe in their glorious success.

Dragons. Their bodies glittered with the heat from below and within them. They were slim, but giant creatures, spikes growing from their legs and arms, spiralling their tails. They filled the London sky like a swarm of flies.

She saw people fleeing in the streets, fainting as they saw what inhabited the air above. Droves of people burnt into nothing by the columns of flame.

A screeching cry pierced the air around her, ducking her head, she snuggled deeper into her hiding spot. Her fingers were white as she clutched the supports.

Something landed with a bang right outside of where she hid. She heard a scraping noise, like nails on a chalkboard. She tried to close her eyes, but her body refused. She looked around for some way out of this, but all she saw was concrete and little pebbles and spiderwebs with long dead flies caught in them.

She poked her head out and was greeted with the sight of a miniature little dragon. She pulled back from the entrance very quickly. Her breaths came in gasps, and her heart thumped about in her chest as if trying to escape.

It whimpered again, and she felt inclined to do the same, and stifled it, in case she told the little beast exactly where she was. It must be a baby, but still, it was bigger than she would ever be. She shivered.

She looked out again. This time it saw her as well. Crimson eyes met brown ones.

Oh god.

She heard the same scraping noises from before, which she now realised were its talons scraping the concrete. It stopped. She saw a nose peek around the corner, sniffing.

She bit her palm to stop from shrieking.

Its head came next, ears on high alert. She met its eyes again. Something shone in them. Hunger, or probably, bloodlust, yet…Curiosity. Curiosity is what she saw reflected in its eyes. It dragged one clawed foot onto the metal support she sat on, then the other, until its head was level with mine and mere inches away. It cocked its head to the side.

After a minute or so, she reached out her hand, gulping back her fear. She stroked its snout. A deep, resonating purr erupted from its throat, echoing through her.

She fainted, and was greeted by darkness.

The next thing she was greeted by was the rough tongue of a baby dragon.

She bit back a shriek, and pulled her knees to her chest, watching it curl its tail in with the rest of it. She moved back into the furthest corner. Following which, the dragon moved its head to the corner right next to her. It slid its tail closer to her, crimson eyes watching closely. It touched her sneaker clad feet, yet went no further. The scaly creature sharing a space with her shut its eyes, falling fast asleep.

I stared for a while, but returned my attention to the world outside eventually. I still heard the sounds of the attack: the screams of the people out there; the sirens of Police cars that still managed to race around the city; The rasping sound of leathery wings beating the air. She could even hear the flames crackling.

She closed her eyes, whispering under her breath.

“I don’t know what to do. oh, Hell below, what is happening?”