George and the Dragon. A short, short story

George got out of bed and looked out of the window.

What would he do today?

Yesterday he saved a pirate captain from being eaten by a crocodile.

The day before, he had flown his space-ship and defeated the alien fleet.

On Sunday he had climbed and chopped his way through thick trees and brambles to rescue the dinosaur egg from the sleeping witch.

What would he do today?

He looked out of the window.  He saw a dragon.  The biggest, angriest dragon he had ever seen.  Not just big, not just green and red but enormous.

A big, big body with a bottom that sat on the house opposite, a foot in the pond and a long neck with a big, lumpy head that rested on a car.  The dragon looked at George.  The dragon had big red eyes and looked at George and blinked.

George looked at the dragon and smiled.  ” I can fight a dragon today. Hooray” he said out loud.

The dragon heard George and sniffed a snort and turned his head towards the window to look.

“Oh dear!” he said with a sigh.  A sigh that pushed out black, smelly smoke which drifted over to George and made his window all sooty.

George dressed quickly, put on his cloak, picked up his sword and shield.  Put them down again and went to the toilet.  After drying his hands he picked up his shield and sword and marched down the stairs.

The dragon put an eye close to the window and looked, through the soot, as George got ready to fight.

“Oh dear!” sighed the dragon again.  This time the soot from his nose made the wall of the house all black and the glass of the window thick and sticky like black glue.

“George, you must have some breakfast.  You should not fight dragons on an empty tummy.  Have some toast and milk first.”

So George sat down with his cloak upon his shoulders and his shield upon his arm and his sword on the table ready to fight.  And drank milk as white as falling snow.  He ate a slice of toast as black as dragon’s breath with jam as red as dragon’s eyes.  And a packet of crisps as crunchy as, well, a packet of crisps.

With his other eye the dragon saw all of this.  “Oh dear”, he sighed and a tear rolled out of his eye and rolled down into his big black nostril.  And he sneezed.  The whole street was covered in black, like glue, like dark toffee but not so nice.

“Oh dear, oh dear!” said the dragon and sighed as he pulled out a great big hanky, as big as a double-sized bed sheet, from under his wing.  The ghastly coloured dragon, with scaly green and yellow body, huge red eyes and nostrils puffing smoke, wiped away all the mucky black, sticky goo from off the house.  Cleaned the windows, wiped the door and polished the car.

George finished his breakfast and grabbed his shield and sword and walked to the front door.  He was just about to open it, to fight the dragon, to chase him away when he heard the noise outside.

There was a swishing, a banging, a clatter and a hiss.  Steam came in, under the door, through the letterbox and the cracks in the floor.  There was a clang and a cough and a sigh and then silence.

There was a flapping outside as the dragon stretched his wings to tuck his hanky away.

George stood with his hand on the latch, thought he would just take a look then go read a book.  The dragon licked his lips and sat quietly waiting then knocked on the door, tapping everso lightly.

George opened the door, shield and sword at the ready.  There stood the postman with green coat flapping in the wind, bag tucked under his arm and red van at the roadside.

“You are no dragon” called George at the postman.  The postman stepped backwards.

“Oh dear!” he sighed and wiped his nose with a dirty, smoke-stained hanky, ” I am too old to be a dragon anymore” he said to George gently.  Gave him the letters he held in his hand and went back to his van.

George watched him leave.  The van gave a snort and a belch and smoke filled the air as it moved away and up.  Circled twice round the house and with a toot of its horn flew towards the mountains far away.

“Now what shall I do?” said George with a sigh.


DJS     fiction