It Takes a Village

We loved Brenna. In a way. The day the dragon brought her, we thought we were going to die. Mothers held their babies close. Grown men wet themselves.

It didn't melt the skin from our bones. It uncurled huge claws and there she was. Wailing, stinking, ragged. Hardly more than a baby.

One month, it said. At full moon, we should leave her on the island in the middle of the lake. Some wondered (not hoped, never that) whether we were fattening her for slaughter. Not me. How much does one kid grow in a month? If the dragon wanted to eat her, it would've done it.

It flew away, and our bowels finished wobbling in relief. What now? Nobody wanted the honour of another mouth to feed. We drew lots.

Old Sal lost. "I'll house her, but I've not enough to feed her."

We all thought about what might happen if the dragon returned to find her half-starved. Someone said, "We've some pease porridge for her supper."

My wife spoke up, "We've some bread left." She knew which side it was buttered.

That's how Brenna lived, for those first few weeks. She stayed with Old Sal, but all of us gave whatever we could spare to help feed her and clothe her. She was nobody's and all of ours.

It was me that rowed her out to the island on full moon. I wasn't sure if I should feel guilty. Without leaving the boat, I practically threw her ashore, and rowed like blazes back across the lake.

The following morning, the dragon brought her back. We were admonished she needed more meat and warmer clothes. Leave her on the island at full moon, it said.

Old Sal refused to take her in. We drew lots again.

Brenna ate better, and so did the family who took her in. The third moon, everyone was less reluctant to draw the short straw.

Last night was full moon. This time, we didn't quake when wings darkened the sky. It roared back to the village, blazing retribution against the man who'd been generous with the back of his hand, and the woman who'd tugged the snarls from Brenna's hair.

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Word count - 366

(NB. This excludes the title, subtitle, and authors note.)

Submitted on Wednesday 25th September at 22:56

The story behind the story: This is a story for Marie Sinadjan's Spooky Bingo, using the theme "Monsters have feelings too".

This links back to Meat, Walking.

A Year of Stories: I'm writing (and submitting, here) a story every day this year. This continues my 269 daily microfiction story streak since 1st January. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but...

ONLY NINETY-SEVEN DAYS TO GO!

Please consider lending your support to the other creators on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They're putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Thank you

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed! Thank you to those who leave feedback/comments. I will do my best to respond to each one and reciprocate the reads.

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Six days left on my dollar challenge!

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Thank you again!