Content Warning

Greetings and Salutations.
Because my stories have bite, they can contain content that isn't suitable for work or children. Not a lot of truly graphic sex or violence, but there are some questionable or heated posts. F-bombs are not uncommon, so watch your footing.

Friday, February 10, 2012

#FridayFlash - Rosebud

Here's something I did based on Eric Krause's prompt. An awesome prompt, especially when combined with my new rosebush.


Most people put their roses outside.

The tiny voice in my head caused me to look around in surprise. I don't know how I knew, but this wasn't from inside me. Squeaky yet growly, it made me think of an animal. Not that I owned any animals, let alone telepathic ones. "Who's there?"

A sigh accompanied the voice this time. Have you tried looking at your roses? I mean, I am talking about them right now.

Blushing with embarrassment, because I hadn't looked at my plant, I turned to the new bush. I'd just bought it last week, happy to have a lavender colored rose, and had recently settled it into its new pot. The new pot which was currently sitting on my kitchen table, a couple days from opening its first bloom.

Nestled near the bud was the tiniest dragon I'd even seen. Not that I saw lot of dragons in person, but I doodled them all the time, and looked at plenty of artwork online. No one normally depicted them this small. It couldn't have been much bigger than my thumb, tail and neck included, but somehow it looked really fierce.

Finally. What is wrong with you? Took you forever to hear me.

"Do I know you?" I moved closer to the rose bush, frowning as I continued to stare. If my cat saw it, he'd be all about trying to chase it. Would it blow a tiny flame breath? Maybe those tiny spikes could get between my cat's paws, draw blood and make him cry.

It spread its wings, only a little wider then my fingers were long, and blinked ruby eyes at me. Not this again. I swear by my mother's scales, if you've lost your memory... It blew a tiny spear of flame, singeing one of the leaves, and fluttered its wings.

Cocking my hip, I stared at it, wanting so desperately to touch it. It was so little and cute, a perfect miniature dragon. It wasn't chibi or cartoony in any way. It was a spiky, clawed, scaly, dangerous dragon, but teeny tiny. "I have no idea what you're talking about." I crossed my arms to resist the urge to touch it.

First, stop thinking of me as "it". I am a he, and you damn well know it. He swore in some language I didn't understand. Except you don't know it. You don't even know that you don't know.

"Maybe you could fill me in." Being talked down to outweighed the joy of a teeny dragon in my dining room.

He tucked his wings against his side, then wrapped his tail around the slender green stem. Every hundred years or so, you come down to Midgard and try to live a mortal life. Normally, you enjoy your little vacation and return to Alfheim with no problems. He lowered his head, sides heaving with a minuscule sigh. But sometimes, you get distracted. You lose your memories, lose your powers, and you end up hanging around too long. Then I have to come get you, return everything, and get you home.

I stared blankly. His words sounded somewhat familiar, like a dream only vaguely remembered. "Alfheim is the home of the..." I frowned, turning away. "Home of the elves?" My voice was weak and tremulous.

The dragon gave a trumpet, no louder than my cell's ringtone. Yes, Princess, exactly. Maybe you're not too lost this time.

"Princess?" That certainly got my attention.

The dragon leapt from the rose and flew toward me. I held out my hand automatically, and he nestled in my palm. Not too far gone at all. We'll get you home soon enough.

"Can I bring my roses?" I asked, pouting slightly.

Of course you can. He chuckled, revealing itty bitty teeth. You can add them to the rest.