Just a touch more witchbane…I prepared to sprinkle an impossibly tiny amount into the caldron before me. A voice calling my name broke my concentration. The bottle faltered in my fingers, spilling the entire contents into the mix. I seethed, my entire body clenched as I turned to face Ohmsgard, my idiot brother.
“What is it?” I asked testily. My tone hurt his feelings. Too damn bad. He was always interrupting my work. Ohmsgard didn’t grasp the effort I put into ensuring my dragon farm only produced the best.
Ohmsgard forced a smile and showed me the contents of his basket. “The gods have favored me!” He was practically chirping in excitement. “Now I too shall have a gold medal hanging from my hearth.”
I peered in, curious, and sucked in a breath. A golden egg! The little twerp stole it from me! My earlier annoyance bubbled over into rage.
“Where did you get that? Have you been raiding my kennel again?” I lashed out and struck him on the cheek. Olmsgard shuddered in pain, dancing out of my reach. He babbled an excuse I ignored as I considered the egg. The last of his words caught my attention. He swears he didn’t steal it? Ha! Like the time he swore he didn’t borrow my favorite flyer for a midnight joyride?
“You lie, Ohmsgard! Only a golden dragon could lay such an egg.” I was confident in my knowledge of dragon breeding and inherited traits. Olmsgard narrowed his eyes tried to intimidate me. I almost felt some respect for him.
“Oh! You are so selfish!” His voice trembled with emotion. “Ever since your dragon won the gold medal in the fire breathing competition, you think you own all the gold in town!” He leaned in closer, his breath hot and angry. “It is mine. I found it beside my kennel because it belongs to me. My dragon laid it.”
The absurdity of it all made me bend over in uncontrollable laughter. I could barely speak, I laughed so hard. “Your dragon laid it? Your dragon? Oh my dear Ohmsgard, your dragon couldn’t even lift a feather off the ground, much less lay a golden egg.” A few more laughs bubbled out of my mouth. “Pigs will fly before your dragon amounts to anything.”
I reached out to grab the basket, shocked when Ohmsgard hugged it tighter.
“It’s mine.” Ohmsgard spat.
“No, you stole it. Give it back!”
“I won’t! It’s mine!”
I caught the edge of the basket and pulled. The wicker suddenly shredded sending the egg flying through the air. The egg crashed to the ground despite my efforts to catch it. Ohmsgard wailed but I shushed him.
The egg suddenly split into two and a beige dragon with scraggly little brown wings and snubbed nose tumbled out. It was hideously ugly. The look of devastation on Ohmsgard’s face made me chuckle.
“Well, I’ll be. Pigs flying after all. Ohmsgard, you’ll definitely win gold with that!”
The 100 Meter Sprint
100 words on a conflict, competition, or game.
The Road Race
300 words on a topic of your choice. The only catch? Your setting must be London, Beijing, or Rio de Janeiro.
Partner up with another Write on Edge writer. You each have 450 words to write about a conflict between two characters; each writer should represent a single character’s point of view.
Oh and for fun I popped in Three Word Wednesday’s weekly words: touch, falter, and emotion