Another short story. I got inspired by the pokedex. xD It's a little longer than my other short story, but I hope you enjoy it.
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Do you know about the exhilaration of flight? Do you know what it feels like to leap off a ledge and flap your arms and just... cling to the sky and the clouds and the sun? I've been told by many, many others that flying is dreaming. As you soar along with the joyous winds that rush from the north, your feet are no longer gripped by gravity, no longer anchored to the world in which you were born; your heart dances with graceful moves guided by the clouds as they pull on the strings that bore your mind forward, and yet... despite being a marionette of the sky, as you fly you feel so... free.
And then they laugh. From the bottom of my heart and with every fibre of my being I wish that I could just leap up at that very moment and simply... fly.
They say flying is dreaming. So now, with the sun on my back and the clouds beneath my claws, I dream.
Long, long ago, when dragons first appeared in the ancient world, they could not fly. Such graceful creatures with enormous strength and power, they roamed the earth on their paws - perhaps on four claws, perhaps on two, perhaps even slithering along on their bellies, but never in the clouds. Their beauty and elegance sped with immortal momentum like lightning slicing from the sky 'til every creature far and wide in every region of the world knew, at least a little, that something wonderous had finally been born; such legends were these antediluvian dragons.
However the skies were uneasy. Their mythical children came from the heavens and yet, they could not fly in them? Preposterous! And so, over time, the race of the dragons were blessed with the power of the skies and the wind, and they grew wings on their backs and could soar happily with their father, the Sun, and their mother, the Moon. Some dragons did not have visible wings but with the might of their minds pulsing through their scaly skins, they were able to hoist themselves up in charming splendour and glide gently with the breezes.
After this realisation of flight, the dragons, soaring, tumbling, drifting, wheeling, gradually disappeared. These beasts changed from the once playful creatures, growing steadily more timid as years passed by, embracing secrecy, mystery and concealment like there was no tomorrow. Sorrowful eyes and heavy hearts watched the last dragons vanish from their world. No longer would the mischievous barks be heard in the mornings, no longer would the mournful howls echo at dusk. These magnificent beings from unimaginable places above the clouds, they would be glimpsed no longer.
As a consequence, their race was, altogether, forgotten. After all, how can you be recalled if you cannot be seen?
We live on a small island far off from the farthest coasts of the region humans now call Hoen. We are only a small colony living in disguise, I count about... I don't know, thirty? Forty? That includes the young'uns and elders too. Oh, I'm quite sorry, I didn't realise you had no idea who we are. Descendents of the ancients, we are the children of today, the reptilians of modern society. We are the dragons of our time.
As you may know, dragons are believed to be mirages, present in drawings in oriental scrolls, carvings in stone caves, mere fantasical creatures in fairytale books... Since the disappearance of our ancestors, we have never been felt. Never actually seen. But.. I think I can say this for all of our genus, we prefer not to be known. Like it is the human's way to find out anything they can about everything, Meowth's way to collect shiny things and hoard them in their treasure dens, and Spoink's way to never stop bouncing, to be thought of as a vision, to be non-existant, this is our way. This is our way to survive in this harsh world.
Although we try our best to remain hidden, foolish young ones sometimes venture out into the human's land. Then they are seen, and eventually caught. I hear they are kept in chambers to be looked at, scowled at, prodded with sharp pointy objects on arms and legs and tail, studied. Ah, curiosity drives humans so ruthlessly! It compels them to do these things. I just think they are nosy beasts with no manners whatsoever. Even in the Era of the Advancing, where survival of the fittest is such an important concept, the human mind really has absolutely no sense of basic propriety at all!
By humans, the predominantly blue dragon with splashes of yellow here and there who stands upright with fangs similar to tusks are deemed the "Bagon". I believe that that is an incredibly stupid name for our species, but since you may not understand our real name in our own native language, I must use that dreadful label instead. Before I begin my story, let me inform you of some of our history so that you may understand our forgotten race.
Bagons are direct descendants from the earliest dragons in those ancient times. We have been around on this planet for many, many millenia. Those who had seen us before, and the current generations who have seen us (rather, fleetingly glanced out of the corners of their eyes) believe that we look the same now as we did then. I think that's rather nice. Sadly, that means we haven't grown prettier, but at least we know we haven't grown uglier either.
The premordial dragons first appeared in the Old World when a sudden tremendous storm seemingly materialised out of nowhere. The tropics in the east were the worst hit. Huge tidal waves lashed out and swallowed whatever they wanted and the cyclones made out of colossal columns of pounding water proceeded to wipe out everything else the waves left behind. Masses of dark clouds billowed, hiding the face of the sun, and swirled like Murkrows around the eyes of many raging water pillars. Brilliant flashes of light arced across the world in fountains of sparks at irregular intevals. The lightning that carved segments from the skies sent the terrified waters reeling. In retaliation, more mammoth cyclones were generated by the turbulent oceans. Claps of sky-drums were deafening, urging lightning bolts onward. Thunder roared at the oceans, lightning hit it. Water snarled and ripped the world apart. The land cowered in fear.
But from this disaster came the dragons. They rode with heads held high on white, sun-touched clouds through the monstrous waves, agily dodging the snapping sparks and making the thunder turn 'round and flee with their own proud roar of existence, one massive echoing wall of pulsating, impenetrable sound shaking the earth and those who heard it down to their bones. The paths the dragons carved cleared the storm and bright sunny day filtered through the darkness. Those who saw the mortal world give way to the immortal knew that it was a truly magnificent sight to behold.
And so, with the passing of the storm and the erupting of a new class of monsters, the world turned back to normal. Slowly, yes, but definitely.
Time lazily floated by and many dragons grew wings of different sizes and structures. While watching the birds glide easily in the sky, the dragons developed a strong desire to fly. Of course, they had nothing with which to be able to perform such a feat and so they looked to the skies. Each separate race prayed for something, anything that would enable them to soar above the land, and in time, the skies heard their pleas and answered them lovingly.
One cool autumn day, when the leaves from the ancient trees dropped to the earth, a halo of light surrounded a big orange lizard with scaly cream belly plates. He was rather ungainly on his gigantic footpaws and he often uttered short, Bo? Bo?s as he lumbered around clumsily on land. The light from the sky twirled playfully around his large body and, as they swirled around his shoulderblades, formed a pair of small but incredibly strong bat-like wings on his back. Delightedly the dragon flapped his wings and with a forceful push with sturdy legs, lifted upwards into the sky. Bo? He was so graceful in the air.
Watching with joy were the other dragons. They saw the Dragonite as he freely flew about with the clouds and they prayed more, for they knew that immortal powers from the sun and the moon would imbue themselves within each different species of dragon. In time, the race of the dragons each received their blessings of flight. As it were, Salamence, a mighty blue-scaled lizard with crimson brow ridges grew wondrous red wings on their backs to carry them aloft. Fire-breathing dragons like Charizard, orange with a cream belly, sprouted draconic wings with blue inner membranes and they soared proudly with Salamence and Dragonite.
Those with no limbs found it quite difficult to push off from the ground. Slithering is not a particularly effective way in building enough speed to lift off, and so the clever skies devised another way for these dragons to fly. One beautiful ocean-blue watersnake, who had such a pretty blue lapis lazuli at her throat and tail, grew ears shaped like the wings of Articuno, our ice bird God. Both she and her daughter, Dratini, a smaller lighter blue snake dragon, obtained flight through their minds. Powerful psychic energies flowed through their slender bodies, enabling them to support themselves in the air and with immense concentration they were able to float around with the other dragons.
As each species received from the skies a gift of flight, the Bagon looked on with mounting hope. Years passed by and the numbers of dragon species left to be enlightened decreased. The Bagon waited patiently, hoping that the next year, they would be enlightened. They would gain blissful freedom in the skies. They would be able to join their brother and sister classes tumbling around in unimaginable places above the clouds. As the years sifted through endless time, the Bagon prayed more intensely and they, as a whole race, wished harder.
As the years sighed in departure, they watched and they waited.
After the last desert dragons received pretty, translucent, dragonfly-like wings, the Bagon were sure that they would be next. One year's expectant waiting turned into five. Five turned into ten, an entire decade. As the older generations disappeared, the newer ones waited. Waited, waited, waited.
Ten years, twenty years, fifty years. Clapping their forepaws together and dipping their blue heads clear of any grey bone, Bagons throughout the world prayed faithfully to the skies. Pointless worship, wasted time.
Eighty years, ninety years. The young'uns did not pray anymore. It was only some of the elders.
One hundred years: no. More. Time.
More than one century ago, the first dragons grew wings and flew. Progressing through the ages, more races joined the pioneers on their adventures and endeavours with the birds in the sky. Extinguished hope and a sense of emptiness, the Bagon, despite all of their best efforts to capture the attention of the sun and the moon, grew no wings and had no extrasensory powers with which to soar. They were forgotten.
Jealously they gazed at the other dragons and envied the lucky ones. In response to their low status in the minds of the skies, they began to retreat from the world. The Bagon hid their faces, turned their backs to the skies and the world, wiped the tears of older generations from their aged young eyes. As though a new dawn could be tasted on the winds, the other dragons soon followed the way of the Bagon and they, too, began to disappear from sight. With the weight of sadness and pity for the Bagon on their wings and minds, the Dragonites, Flygons, Salamence, Dragonairs and many others decided never to show how skilled they were in flight. They didn't want to damage the feelings of the forgotten, did they?
And the world? Why, it could care no less.
Do you know how painful it is to watch others get something amazing? When you know it is your turn, and you wait but never receive it, what does it feel like? Do you feel... hurt? Different? Unloved? That's how we felt, and still feel. The pain of hundreds of centuries since the dragons disappeared gnaws at all of our hearts. When we catch a glimpse of humans with dragons, ordering them to fly, it just breaks our hearts. At that moment, we develop... a sudden mad desire to rush to the nearest ledge and flap our arms and show them, show everyone that we, the Bagon, can fly! Of course, we don't do that. That's just against common sense. Goodness knows.
The olden days would be spent praying for more than half a day. In our society now, we do not pray for something we will never acquire. I mean, what is the point? It's just wasting your time. Tell me, what would you do?
"Maaa-raaaah!"
I turn around. Sitting on a small grassy hill overlooking a beautiful lagoon surrounded by drooping trees, prickly bushes and lush green grass, I pluck a yellow flower beside me out of the ground and wave it around my nose. Breathing in the fresh scent, I wait and listen for another childish call.
"Marah, where are you? MAAAA---Oh, there you are. Teehee, I didn't see you even though you were sitting so high up!"
A short blue dragon with a yellow lower jaw and belly shuffles up behind me. With tiny paws, my younger brother taps me on the top of my smooth dark blue head. He gives me a little massage and I close my eyes, smiling happily. He's such a dear. With a short Huff! he plops down on my left side and quietly, we both watch the fluffy clouds sail across the morning sky.
"What are you thinking, Marah?" he asks intuitively. He usually asks me that.
"Mmm... nothing really, Kinkin. I was just looking up at the sun and seeing how proudly he shines his light down on us. Isn't it lovely how you can see him in the water of the lagoon too? Look, over there. The sun radiates happiness and warmth. When we drink the water, we drink some of the sun."
Kinkin gazes in the direction I'm pointing at. He sees the clear reflection of the sun on top of the lagoon and he chuckles heartily. Absentmindedly he tears the grass up around him, uprooting the dandelions. I lean back on my arms. Boy, the sun sure does make you sleepy. I feel a tingling sensation on my left knee and I look to see my brother piling up the torn grass into a mound on my leg. I grin at his silly antics and resume watching the clouds and sun.
I must have dozed off because I don't remember when Kinkin left me. Opening my rather large mouth, I yawn widely, revealing razor-sharp teeth and two tusk-like fangs on the lower jaw. Shaking my head to clear the drowziness, I rub my eyes so I can focus properly. Then I see something quite strange indeed. A sky-blue dragon bird with long wavy head feathers and fluffy cotton around her body floats gently in front of me. Her pearly eyes watch me intently.
"Why, hello there, little Bagon."
I rub my eyes harder and open them wider, but she is still there. We don't often get visitors on our island so it is quite a shock to see a dragon bird, particularly up close too.
She giggles in a high-pitched voice. I stare at her, she sounds so sweet.
"My, I heard of a small island with Bagon inhabitants and I just had to come and see. I'm Mish, an Altaria." The dragon bird floats up and down slowly. She tilts her head at me and I pinch myself to see whether or not I am dreaming... which I'm not.
Mish laughs, her short grey beak flashing in the sunlight. "You haven't introduced yourself, hey? Do you know why I came? I heard that the Bagon can't fly. How silly! All dragons must fly. Your cousins, Shelgon, the dragon encased in bone? I hear they can't fly either. Oh ho ho! How funny!"
I narrow my eyes. I don't think I like this Altaria anymore.
"My friends and I were gossiping the other day. About the time when the first dragons arrived in this world, I'll have you know. We talked about how glorious our ancestors were and then one of my friends said that when all the dragons got the power of flight, only the Bagon got left out! Heeheehee! Isn't that embarassing for you? I'd hate to be your race. I mean... the Shelgon can't fly either, but they didn't care. On the other hand, I heard that you Bagons prayed for a century and didn't get your wish! My, how would that feel?"
It felt as though Mish had come just to taunt us. The Bagon? Our race is great in all the trouble that we went through in order to earn respect from the sky, and we didn't even accomplish that. We should be commended for our efforts, not laughed at! This is outrageous! I feel the blood boil in my veins and fire kindle in my eyes. A passion, a want, no, a need to fly - it bubbles within me. I fight to control myself and while clenching my fists and seething with rage, I glare with death's daggers snapping from my eyes. But Mish takes no heed of my actions.
In her horrendous feminine voice, she continues, "You know, right now I feel so sorry for you. You can't float like I can. You can't fly like the impressive Dragonite. You can't channel your thoughts into psychic energy... you can't do anything to fly. You shouldn't be called a dragon. Heeheehee! I would LOVE to see you Bagons try to fly. I'm sure if you flapped those twiddly arms-" - Mish pecks lightly at my right forepaw - "-I'm sure you could lift off and fly for thirteen seconds like a Torchic."
Breathe in and out, in and out... control your anger... control it!
"Bagons are pretty worthless. Once I found out about your little island refuge, I flew all the way here just to see how you cope with the shame. You seem quite oblivious to it, hey? Oh well, what do you expect from a species of so-called dragon that can't soar in the sky..."
Anger clouds my mind and pushes common sense and reasoning completely out the window. I retain enough self-control to resist Dragon Clawing her in the face, but through bared fangs, I spit menacingly, "I'll show you we Bagons can fly. I'll show you and the world!"
Mish looks delighted. She clicks her tongue in merry agreement and bobs her head. I begin to run down the slope of the hill towards the lagoon. Rays of sunlight flicker momentarily but they then shine in thick beams again as though nothing happened. The Altaria follows, gliding with the wind.
Around the lagoon I sprint, my short legs powering me along at a frightening speed. It is quite remarkable for such a small creature like me to run so quick. I'm one of the fastest in my clan of Bagon! Wind roars in my ears and stings my eyes. It feels so nice though. Calming... I do not observe the scenery flashing past me as I race across my home. Across the wide praire fields, through the dense forests, onto desert plains, the little hill I had sat on shrinking into the distance until... I see it no more.
Slowing down to a halt, I reach the area on our island where a great gorge lies. The solid sand-caked earth is scorching under my paws. Bent over, I pant heavily, a little tired from my hard gallop from one side of the island to the other. Just beyond the other side of the canyon is the sea... the vast, beautiful sea. As I catch my breath, Mish floats from behind me. She grins. I find it such a sickening sight and shudder. Mish takes no notice.
With light pawsteps I venture to the edge of the gorge and look down. It is so deep that you can barely see the bottom. I hear the Altaria humming a cheerful tune. I frown.
"Well, my dear Bagon, you still haven't mentioned your name to me yet. Either way, here you can demonstrate your almighty powers of flight. I look forward to seeing you lift your short, stubby body off the ground and into the air. Enjoy!"
Ignoring her remarks, I turn away from the edge and walk a few steps back. The sun warms the top of my head. It's a little too hot to be my cup of tea, but oh well. It's time to fly.
"I always knew you were too afraid, heeheehee. Bagons, talk so much of themselves! How interesting!"
Laughter.
Suddenly, I hear a voice. It sails with the wind and I look up. Mish is laughing, so she does not hear the small male voice borne to me.
"Maaaa-raaaah... Maaa-raah, where are you?"
Kinkin? Oh good, he will be here to see me take off into the sky! I will show him and all the elders of our generation, all the Bagons of the world that yes, we HAVE been blessed with flight! I'll show everyone, including the Altaria and the entire dragon race that the Bagons were not forgotten in the Age of Flying.
"Kinkin, watch me fly!"
Backtracking a little more, I narrow my eyes in deep concentration. Sunlight streams down on my back, and the clouds tumble gleefully. I hear the wind as it whistles encouragingly and with joyful tears streaming down my face, I dash to the edge of the gorge and push off with strong hind paws.
"Maaa--raaahh!"
The world is suspended in time. I see the ground fall away as I soar through the air. Everything turns silent in this beautiful moment I've created. I see the earth so far down below me, I feel so light and graceful as I cling to the sky. This glorious sensation of knowing you have finally accomplished something worthwhile, of seeing the clouds dance around my body and the ground far beneath my footpaws, is so whole. My heart is so alive and skybound. I look up and watch the sun, and I feel laughter bubbling from my open jaws. Flapping my arms together, I realise I'm flying.
With the sun glowing joyously, a lone Altaria watched without a smile as a predominately blue dragon with splashes of yellow here and there, arms and legs flailing madly, plummeted over the edge of a cliff.
End
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Do you know about the exhilaration of flight? Do you know what it feels like to leap off a ledge and flap your arms and just... cling to the sky and the clouds and the sun? I've been told by many, many others that flying is dreaming. As you soar along with the joyous winds that rush from the north, your feet are no longer gripped by gravity, no longer anchored to the world in which you were born; your heart dances with graceful moves guided by the clouds as they pull on the strings that bore your mind forward, and yet... despite being a marionette of the sky, as you fly you feel so... free.
And then they laugh. From the bottom of my heart and with every fibre of my being I wish that I could just leap up at that very moment and simply... fly.
They say flying is dreaming. So now, with the sun on my back and the clouds beneath my claws, I dream.
--
Long, long ago, when dragons first appeared in the ancient world, they could not fly. Such graceful creatures with enormous strength and power, they roamed the earth on their paws - perhaps on four claws, perhaps on two, perhaps even slithering along on their bellies, but never in the clouds. Their beauty and elegance sped with immortal momentum like lightning slicing from the sky 'til every creature far and wide in every region of the world knew, at least a little, that something wonderous had finally been born; such legends were these antediluvian dragons.
However the skies were uneasy. Their mythical children came from the heavens and yet, they could not fly in them? Preposterous! And so, over time, the race of the dragons were blessed with the power of the skies and the wind, and they grew wings on their backs and could soar happily with their father, the Sun, and their mother, the Moon. Some dragons did not have visible wings but with the might of their minds pulsing through their scaly skins, they were able to hoist themselves up in charming splendour and glide gently with the breezes.
After this realisation of flight, the dragons, soaring, tumbling, drifting, wheeling, gradually disappeared. These beasts changed from the once playful creatures, growing steadily more timid as years passed by, embracing secrecy, mystery and concealment like there was no tomorrow. Sorrowful eyes and heavy hearts watched the last dragons vanish from their world. No longer would the mischievous barks be heard in the mornings, no longer would the mournful howls echo at dusk. These magnificent beings from unimaginable places above the clouds, they would be glimpsed no longer.
As a consequence, their race was, altogether, forgotten. After all, how can you be recalled if you cannot be seen?
--
We live on a small island far off from the farthest coasts of the region humans now call Hoen. We are only a small colony living in disguise, I count about... I don't know, thirty? Forty? That includes the young'uns and elders too. Oh, I'm quite sorry, I didn't realise you had no idea who we are. Descendents of the ancients, we are the children of today, the reptilians of modern society. We are the dragons of our time.
As you may know, dragons are believed to be mirages, present in drawings in oriental scrolls, carvings in stone caves, mere fantasical creatures in fairytale books... Since the disappearance of our ancestors, we have never been felt. Never actually seen. But.. I think I can say this for all of our genus, we prefer not to be known. Like it is the human's way to find out anything they can about everything, Meowth's way to collect shiny things and hoard them in their treasure dens, and Spoink's way to never stop bouncing, to be thought of as a vision, to be non-existant, this is our way. This is our way to survive in this harsh world.
Although we try our best to remain hidden, foolish young ones sometimes venture out into the human's land. Then they are seen, and eventually caught. I hear they are kept in chambers to be looked at, scowled at, prodded with sharp pointy objects on arms and legs and tail, studied. Ah, curiosity drives humans so ruthlessly! It compels them to do these things. I just think they are nosy beasts with no manners whatsoever. Even in the Era of the Advancing, where survival of the fittest is such an important concept, the human mind really has absolutely no sense of basic propriety at all!
By humans, the predominantly blue dragon with splashes of yellow here and there who stands upright with fangs similar to tusks are deemed the "Bagon". I believe that that is an incredibly stupid name for our species, but since you may not understand our real name in our own native language, I must use that dreadful label instead. Before I begin my story, let me inform you of some of our history so that you may understand our forgotten race.
Bagons are direct descendants from the earliest dragons in those ancient times. We have been around on this planet for many, many millenia. Those who had seen us before, and the current generations who have seen us (rather, fleetingly glanced out of the corners of their eyes) believe that we look the same now as we did then. I think that's rather nice. Sadly, that means we haven't grown prettier, but at least we know we haven't grown uglier either.
The premordial dragons first appeared in the Old World when a sudden tremendous storm seemingly materialised out of nowhere. The tropics in the east were the worst hit. Huge tidal waves lashed out and swallowed whatever they wanted and the cyclones made out of colossal columns of pounding water proceeded to wipe out everything else the waves left behind. Masses of dark clouds billowed, hiding the face of the sun, and swirled like Murkrows around the eyes of many raging water pillars. Brilliant flashes of light arced across the world in fountains of sparks at irregular intevals. The lightning that carved segments from the skies sent the terrified waters reeling. In retaliation, more mammoth cyclones were generated by the turbulent oceans. Claps of sky-drums were deafening, urging lightning bolts onward. Thunder roared at the oceans, lightning hit it. Water snarled and ripped the world apart. The land cowered in fear.
But from this disaster came the dragons. They rode with heads held high on white, sun-touched clouds through the monstrous waves, agily dodging the snapping sparks and making the thunder turn 'round and flee with their own proud roar of existence, one massive echoing wall of pulsating, impenetrable sound shaking the earth and those who heard it down to their bones. The paths the dragons carved cleared the storm and bright sunny day filtered through the darkness. Those who saw the mortal world give way to the immortal knew that it was a truly magnificent sight to behold.
And so, with the passing of the storm and the erupting of a new class of monsters, the world turned back to normal. Slowly, yes, but definitely.
Time lazily floated by and many dragons grew wings of different sizes and structures. While watching the birds glide easily in the sky, the dragons developed a strong desire to fly. Of course, they had nothing with which to be able to perform such a feat and so they looked to the skies. Each separate race prayed for something, anything that would enable them to soar above the land, and in time, the skies heard their pleas and answered them lovingly.
One cool autumn day, when the leaves from the ancient trees dropped to the earth, a halo of light surrounded a big orange lizard with scaly cream belly plates. He was rather ungainly on his gigantic footpaws and he often uttered short, Bo? Bo?s as he lumbered around clumsily on land. The light from the sky twirled playfully around his large body and, as they swirled around his shoulderblades, formed a pair of small but incredibly strong bat-like wings on his back. Delightedly the dragon flapped his wings and with a forceful push with sturdy legs, lifted upwards into the sky. Bo? He was so graceful in the air.
Watching with joy were the other dragons. They saw the Dragonite as he freely flew about with the clouds and they prayed more, for they knew that immortal powers from the sun and the moon would imbue themselves within each different species of dragon. In time, the race of the dragons each received their blessings of flight. As it were, Salamence, a mighty blue-scaled lizard with crimson brow ridges grew wondrous red wings on their backs to carry them aloft. Fire-breathing dragons like Charizard, orange with a cream belly, sprouted draconic wings with blue inner membranes and they soared proudly with Salamence and Dragonite.
Those with no limbs found it quite difficult to push off from the ground. Slithering is not a particularly effective way in building enough speed to lift off, and so the clever skies devised another way for these dragons to fly. One beautiful ocean-blue watersnake, who had such a pretty blue lapis lazuli at her throat and tail, grew ears shaped like the wings of Articuno, our ice bird God. Both she and her daughter, Dratini, a smaller lighter blue snake dragon, obtained flight through their minds. Powerful psychic energies flowed through their slender bodies, enabling them to support themselves in the air and with immense concentration they were able to float around with the other dragons.
As each species received from the skies a gift of flight, the Bagon looked on with mounting hope. Years passed by and the numbers of dragon species left to be enlightened decreased. The Bagon waited patiently, hoping that the next year, they would be enlightened. They would gain blissful freedom in the skies. They would be able to join their brother and sister classes tumbling around in unimaginable places above the clouds. As the years sifted through endless time, the Bagon prayed more intensely and they, as a whole race, wished harder.
As the years sighed in departure, they watched and they waited.
After the last desert dragons received pretty, translucent, dragonfly-like wings, the Bagon were sure that they would be next. One year's expectant waiting turned into five. Five turned into ten, an entire decade. As the older generations disappeared, the newer ones waited. Waited, waited, waited.
Ten years, twenty years, fifty years. Clapping their forepaws together and dipping their blue heads clear of any grey bone, Bagons throughout the world prayed faithfully to the skies. Pointless worship, wasted time.
Eighty years, ninety years. The young'uns did not pray anymore. It was only some of the elders.
One hundred years: no. More. Time.
More than one century ago, the first dragons grew wings and flew. Progressing through the ages, more races joined the pioneers on their adventures and endeavours with the birds in the sky. Extinguished hope and a sense of emptiness, the Bagon, despite all of their best efforts to capture the attention of the sun and the moon, grew no wings and had no extrasensory powers with which to soar. They were forgotten.
Jealously they gazed at the other dragons and envied the lucky ones. In response to their low status in the minds of the skies, they began to retreat from the world. The Bagon hid their faces, turned their backs to the skies and the world, wiped the tears of older generations from their aged young eyes. As though a new dawn could be tasted on the winds, the other dragons soon followed the way of the Bagon and they, too, began to disappear from sight. With the weight of sadness and pity for the Bagon on their wings and minds, the Dragonites, Flygons, Salamence, Dragonairs and many others decided never to show how skilled they were in flight. They didn't want to damage the feelings of the forgotten, did they?
And the world? Why, it could care no less.
Do you know how painful it is to watch others get something amazing? When you know it is your turn, and you wait but never receive it, what does it feel like? Do you feel... hurt? Different? Unloved? That's how we felt, and still feel. The pain of hundreds of centuries since the dragons disappeared gnaws at all of our hearts. When we catch a glimpse of humans with dragons, ordering them to fly, it just breaks our hearts. At that moment, we develop... a sudden mad desire to rush to the nearest ledge and flap our arms and show them, show everyone that we, the Bagon, can fly! Of course, we don't do that. That's just against common sense. Goodness knows.
The olden days would be spent praying for more than half a day. In our society now, we do not pray for something we will never acquire. I mean, what is the point? It's just wasting your time. Tell me, what would you do?
--
"Maaa-raaaah!"
I turn around. Sitting on a small grassy hill overlooking a beautiful lagoon surrounded by drooping trees, prickly bushes and lush green grass, I pluck a yellow flower beside me out of the ground and wave it around my nose. Breathing in the fresh scent, I wait and listen for another childish call.
"Marah, where are you? MAAAA---Oh, there you are. Teehee, I didn't see you even though you were sitting so high up!"
A short blue dragon with a yellow lower jaw and belly shuffles up behind me. With tiny paws, my younger brother taps me on the top of my smooth dark blue head. He gives me a little massage and I close my eyes, smiling happily. He's such a dear. With a short Huff! he plops down on my left side and quietly, we both watch the fluffy clouds sail across the morning sky.
"What are you thinking, Marah?" he asks intuitively. He usually asks me that.
"Mmm... nothing really, Kinkin. I was just looking up at the sun and seeing how proudly he shines his light down on us. Isn't it lovely how you can see him in the water of the lagoon too? Look, over there. The sun radiates happiness and warmth. When we drink the water, we drink some of the sun."
Kinkin gazes in the direction I'm pointing at. He sees the clear reflection of the sun on top of the lagoon and he chuckles heartily. Absentmindedly he tears the grass up around him, uprooting the dandelions. I lean back on my arms. Boy, the sun sure does make you sleepy. I feel a tingling sensation on my left knee and I look to see my brother piling up the torn grass into a mound on my leg. I grin at his silly antics and resume watching the clouds and sun.
I must have dozed off because I don't remember when Kinkin left me. Opening my rather large mouth, I yawn widely, revealing razor-sharp teeth and two tusk-like fangs on the lower jaw. Shaking my head to clear the drowziness, I rub my eyes so I can focus properly. Then I see something quite strange indeed. A sky-blue dragon bird with long wavy head feathers and fluffy cotton around her body floats gently in front of me. Her pearly eyes watch me intently.
"Why, hello there, little Bagon."
I rub my eyes harder and open them wider, but she is still there. We don't often get visitors on our island so it is quite a shock to see a dragon bird, particularly up close too.
She giggles in a high-pitched voice. I stare at her, she sounds so sweet.
"My, I heard of a small island with Bagon inhabitants and I just had to come and see. I'm Mish, an Altaria." The dragon bird floats up and down slowly. She tilts her head at me and I pinch myself to see whether or not I am dreaming... which I'm not.
Mish laughs, her short grey beak flashing in the sunlight. "You haven't introduced yourself, hey? Do you know why I came? I heard that the Bagon can't fly. How silly! All dragons must fly. Your cousins, Shelgon, the dragon encased in bone? I hear they can't fly either. Oh ho ho! How funny!"
I narrow my eyes. I don't think I like this Altaria anymore.
"My friends and I were gossiping the other day. About the time when the first dragons arrived in this world, I'll have you know. We talked about how glorious our ancestors were and then one of my friends said that when all the dragons got the power of flight, only the Bagon got left out! Heeheehee! Isn't that embarassing for you? I'd hate to be your race. I mean... the Shelgon can't fly either, but they didn't care. On the other hand, I heard that you Bagons prayed for a century and didn't get your wish! My, how would that feel?"
It felt as though Mish had come just to taunt us. The Bagon? Our race is great in all the trouble that we went through in order to earn respect from the sky, and we didn't even accomplish that. We should be commended for our efforts, not laughed at! This is outrageous! I feel the blood boil in my veins and fire kindle in my eyes. A passion, a want, no, a need to fly - it bubbles within me. I fight to control myself and while clenching my fists and seething with rage, I glare with death's daggers snapping from my eyes. But Mish takes no heed of my actions.
In her horrendous feminine voice, she continues, "You know, right now I feel so sorry for you. You can't float like I can. You can't fly like the impressive Dragonite. You can't channel your thoughts into psychic energy... you can't do anything to fly. You shouldn't be called a dragon. Heeheehee! I would LOVE to see you Bagons try to fly. I'm sure if you flapped those twiddly arms-" - Mish pecks lightly at my right forepaw - "-I'm sure you could lift off and fly for thirteen seconds like a Torchic."
Breathe in and out, in and out... control your anger... control it!
"Bagons are pretty worthless. Once I found out about your little island refuge, I flew all the way here just to see how you cope with the shame. You seem quite oblivious to it, hey? Oh well, what do you expect from a species of so-called dragon that can't soar in the sky..."
Anger clouds my mind and pushes common sense and reasoning completely out the window. I retain enough self-control to resist Dragon Clawing her in the face, but through bared fangs, I spit menacingly, "I'll show you we Bagons can fly. I'll show you and the world!"
Mish looks delighted. She clicks her tongue in merry agreement and bobs her head. I begin to run down the slope of the hill towards the lagoon. Rays of sunlight flicker momentarily but they then shine in thick beams again as though nothing happened. The Altaria follows, gliding with the wind.
Around the lagoon I sprint, my short legs powering me along at a frightening speed. It is quite remarkable for such a small creature like me to run so quick. I'm one of the fastest in my clan of Bagon! Wind roars in my ears and stings my eyes. It feels so nice though. Calming... I do not observe the scenery flashing past me as I race across my home. Across the wide praire fields, through the dense forests, onto desert plains, the little hill I had sat on shrinking into the distance until... I see it no more.
Slowing down to a halt, I reach the area on our island where a great gorge lies. The solid sand-caked earth is scorching under my paws. Bent over, I pant heavily, a little tired from my hard gallop from one side of the island to the other. Just beyond the other side of the canyon is the sea... the vast, beautiful sea. As I catch my breath, Mish floats from behind me. She grins. I find it such a sickening sight and shudder. Mish takes no notice.
With light pawsteps I venture to the edge of the gorge and look down. It is so deep that you can barely see the bottom. I hear the Altaria humming a cheerful tune. I frown.
"Well, my dear Bagon, you still haven't mentioned your name to me yet. Either way, here you can demonstrate your almighty powers of flight. I look forward to seeing you lift your short, stubby body off the ground and into the air. Enjoy!"
Ignoring her remarks, I turn away from the edge and walk a few steps back. The sun warms the top of my head. It's a little too hot to be my cup of tea, but oh well. It's time to fly.
"I always knew you were too afraid, heeheehee. Bagons, talk so much of themselves! How interesting!"
Laughter.
Suddenly, I hear a voice. It sails with the wind and I look up. Mish is laughing, so she does not hear the small male voice borne to me.
"Maaaa-raaaah... Maaa-raah, where are you?"
Kinkin? Oh good, he will be here to see me take off into the sky! I will show him and all the elders of our generation, all the Bagons of the world that yes, we HAVE been blessed with flight! I'll show everyone, including the Altaria and the entire dragon race that the Bagons were not forgotten in the Age of Flying.
"Kinkin, watch me fly!"
Backtracking a little more, I narrow my eyes in deep concentration. Sunlight streams down on my back, and the clouds tumble gleefully. I hear the wind as it whistles encouragingly and with joyful tears streaming down my face, I dash to the edge of the gorge and push off with strong hind paws.
"Maaa--raaahh!"
The world is suspended in time. I see the ground fall away as I soar through the air. Everything turns silent in this beautiful moment I've created. I see the earth so far down below me, I feel so light and graceful as I cling to the sky. This glorious sensation of knowing you have finally accomplished something worthwhile, of seeing the clouds dance around my body and the ground far beneath my footpaws, is so whole. My heart is so alive and skybound. I look up and watch the sun, and I feel laughter bubbling from my open jaws. Flapping my arms together, I realise I'm flying.
With the sun glowing joyously, a lone Altaria watched without a smile as a predominately blue dragon with splashes of yellow here and there, arms and legs flailing madly, plummeted over the edge of a cliff.
End