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.

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