This was written for last week’s Cracked Flash Fiction competition in which you get the first sentence as a prompt and then have 300 words with which to finish the story.

A Whispered Wish

It began with a whisper.


The dragons are coming.

The leaves rustled it in their song when the hot winds blew from the south.


The dragons are coming.

It came to the minds of the magicians before the messengers had reached the cities. It clouded their mirrors of magic and dragon tails curled in the smoke from their alchemical fires.


The dragons are coming.

Faces of the rich and poor turned towards the west with each red sunrise, waiting to see if the new light would speed the dragons on their way.

New whispers started.


Only the true king can control the dragons.

Knights and warriors armed themselves and waited for their orders. Gold and jewels changed hands behind closed doors and messengers stole away in the witching hour.


Only the true leader can control the dragons.

Armies readied themselves on fields soon to be stained with blood. Banners bearing the colours of lords and kingdoms unfurled in the hot summer air.


Only the true leader can summon the dragons.

“The dragons will show us a new leader,” an old woman said, sitting beside the kitchen fire, telling stories to her young grandchildren. “They will choose who they will follow.”


The true leader will summon the dragons.

The Seafolk heard the whispers of the world as they drifted on the wind, turned their eyes to the western horizon, and watched the movement of the water. They wondered at the person who would summon the dragons of old.

“I want to see dragons one day,” the child said, staring at a drawing in a tattered book. “Look, are they not beautiful?” The child leaned closer still, long braids brushing the pages. “I wish there were dragons here.”


The dragons heard.

header photo of landscape by Nick West

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