“You sway like a crane to the tunes of tossed stones. / I am what you made to live in” – Alice Fulton, “Fierce Girl Playing Hopscotch”
He made the dragon to live in. The skin unalloyed gold, the eyes vast jewels, the burnished red tongue sprouting from between even rows of piercing teeth. It was the creation of a mastermind, meant to last a thousand years, perhaps more.
But in perfection there must be sacrifice. He pricked a vein of the victim and the bloodletting began.
Soon, soon, the dragon came to life. He felt the tugging of his limbs into the limbs of the dragon, the pull of his organs into the dragon’s serpent-like body. His tongue felt the flick of air against it just as the dragon’s did. His teeth shivered with the feel of the dragon’s teeth.
The edges of his vision began to burn red as he felt himself swoop into the new form he had created.
With her last breath, the creator’s victim raised her weapon and sliced the dragon’s body in two. Blood spilled across the golden tail.