Tuesday, October 16, 2012
When I hit the lottery, mother bought me a silvery outfit. “So you can look pretty when you go to your new life.”
The newspaper took a picture of me with a pumpkin, the only other thing our village is known for.
The rumble that preceded the Dragons was met with a cheer. They swooped in, all leather and metal and the smell of death.
I swallowed bile and went to them.
The Elder greeted me with a toothy leer. “Mount up, cherry.”
I got on the bike, knowing my ruin would keep the people safe for another year.