Memories, Memories.

[Raglin 64]

Raglin stared into the chrystal waters, his eyes glazed over with tears. He drank from his flask again. Moments ago it was a happy moment, a wedding for his friend. They were celebrating, having a good time. But then the memories came rushing to Raglin like tidal waves. As the others went out to party, he lingered in the lonesome woods, declining their many offers to come with them.

Raglin drank from his flask again, then let out another small sob. "Hilda, Boran." He whiped the tears from his eyes, as he began to dwell upon the past. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the old nightmares take over his mind. He began to remember, all too clearly.

It was a normal day in Karik, his wife, Hilda, and his son, Boran, were at their home in the city, waiting for Raglin to come home from his labor at the mines. He was walking down the gravel path, his pickaxe swinging at his side as he made his way to the city leisurely along with the other miners. It was a grim looking day, the clouds dark over the land. He heard something, a distant bellowing sound. He payed this no mind, for many creatures live in the mountains and forests nearby.

He saw the city of Karik ahead, and froze as flames erupted over the the land, and the roar came ahead, a loud terrifying sound. He gaped as the dragon emerged, its mouth bellowing flames, its eyes piercingly evil. It spread its wings, beating them as it began its attack on the city, killing dwarves all over the city, their defenses futile against such a monster. Screams rang out across the land, as Raglin charged forward towards the city. A fellow miner gripped his shoulders, yanking him backwards. "Thar's nothin' we can do, lad!" Raglin ripped from his grip as he began to sob, falling to his knees.

Raglin sobbed and sobbed as the fire faded from the city after his long attack. As survivors were counted Raglin searched for his family, not spotting his son nor his wife. At the end of the aftermath he began to help the survivors, doing what he could to patch them up. For months afterwards Raglin was disturbed by the event, mining mindlessly, his eyes dull. He healed from this trauma eventually, but has never been the same dwarf since.

Raglin rose from his spot in the grass, dusting himself off, he whiped the tears away, he began trudging after the others' path, heading to the afterparty, whistling a melancholy tune.

(( I hope you like it. It's been a while since I've written a short story. ))

[Boomack21 124]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.