darkSpyro

The rain shot down onto the soaring jade grass, battling like love and hate. The rain roared and the grass hissed. The grass whacked the rain away, the rain pinned the grass down. There was always that mysterious figure who ended the battle (deciding who won), and that one thing happened to be Mandy Burton today. Her claw punched the grass and instantly killed them, while the rain fell and attacked the suffering grass. The grass’s hissing became groaning, and then a silence. Mandy Burton was nothing particularly special. In fact, she was just walking back from her day of work at the second hand fire dragon swimming suit store, holding the outstretched lime green suit from an obese dragon who had donated it five years ago. The swimming suit of Mandy’s first customer. Mandy always wanted to go swimming, and had to do it the hard way; Mandy was used to this though, because she always had to do it the hard way. Mandy was a skimpy fire dragon, fitting into an elephant sized costume. She plans to go to the lake in the swamp, she was sure Millie and corporation wouldn’t be hanging around there…


I yawned and placed the book down, repeating the words in my head again and again. I always loved Mandy Burton books. Each beautiful description made my eyes touch the text, sucking me into that world. Mandy Burton, the inquisitive and dangerous dragoness looking out for the killer of the president of the dragon city, shining her giant magnifying glass around the blood stained cricket-bats that created wonder, a mystery to the rest. I met the real Mandy Burton (the author) once when I was seven. I was amazed, waiting in a massive line full of different dragons all around the world, until I met her. I was right at the back; I had travelled far in a boat to see her. I was the last one. She looked at me as if I was nothing. I was dressed in my favourite suit, which happened to be me least favourite suit now. She burst out laughing; I stared up as her, holding in a river of tears. The tears were breaking the dam fast. Suddenly, the river flooded the floor. Mandy Burton was the cloud, and ‘helped’ me gain more water in my river. She laughed harder, sending me out. Not even signing my books. That smirks of hers. Those narrow eyes of hers. I ‘thank’ her for the memories. I hated Mandy Burton, but I still read her books. I was fan, but I was not a fan… My friends always told me I do not hear my own song, and my song is metal and classic, I need gain a sense in music; you can not like two options of one subject. That was my one friend, of course, but I have lots of friends, well imaginary ones… Jake, the one who is full up of facts from older dragons, and is always on about himself. I have worked out a way to communicate with him, somehow, and there is also Mandy Burton, which (yes, you guessed) I based on my friend/enemy (well, the name). She has everything I want, and she is actually very kind.

It was another one of those bitter, tempestuous nights. The village and I were contentedly sleeping in our nests. I pressed my scaly face into my cerulean blanket, smelling the soothing proverbial scent. I repositioned into my preferred position, staring at the sleeping dragons. Tomorrow was a substantial day for all members of the village, which was the chief’s anniversary. I regard the event as my favourite day of the entire year; others judged it by their superior enough mantle to be part of the village and to defend our master to be living this day, while others such as my friend Jacob concluded he preferred it because of the wonderful selection of food. My stomach rumbled. I salivate thinking of the magnificent succulent display of foods, from the yellow petite cubes of cheese to the delicious colossal chicken legs. I turned and buldged my eyes. The chefs and cleaners were setting up; I could hear the muffled voices and tampering outside. Maybe if I move stealthily out and grab something, I can fill my belly up. So that’s what I did, I checked to see if anyone was observing, by look, everyone was in a deep sleep and I tiptoed my way out of the resting cave. Suddenly I heard a whisper and a set of feed rush after me. I panicked. I had been caught already! Embarrassed but also shocked, I jerked my evaluated neck at my past direction. I heaved in relieve. I saw Jacob’s bosky scales glistening the dim moonlight, just in the corner of the outside view from the cave entrance. I simpered and blinked hard.
“Abigail!” Exclaimed Jacob. I hushed him with my lean azure claw so he could say no more. “Abigail?” He repeated, this time in a whisper. I nodded and then left the cave. He followed me, coping my cautious movement that told him I was gaiting out for food, and needed to be quiet. The moon was a dim glint in the sky, hiding in the obscurity. The chefs were in the kitchen preparing more food and the cleaners were chatting, slacking off their occupations. I smelt the beautiful atmosphere. I drooled again, tongue out of mouth. I tip-toed further towards the beautiful selection. Whack! Bang! I had the instinct to turn around, to see where the noise had formed. I jerked my head further; I couldn’t seem to find any way the noise was created. I growled to show I was not afraid, even though the fact I wasn’t. I heard a few screeches from the cleaners and chefs. Jacob stayed in his place beside me, almost frozen. I grumbled. We were done for sure. Our chief, Mike Shenum always gave us the worst possible consequences. He acts all too sombre all the time and is always worried about the simplest thing. Chief Shenum didn’t seem to precipitate out, yelling at us like the old winged wolf in the forest. I waited a few more seconds. Still no sign of Chief Shenum. I began to feel intimated as a large shadow towered over me. It was Chief Shenum before… No! I saw the murky sinister figure, wielding a strip of shadow of a death bringer. I remembered what Mother told me. In the harshest times, close your eyes in tranquil pressure and the gods will systematize it within seconds. So I closed my eyes.

My eyes fluttered open, until two tremendous bulgy eyes blinked twice. The air wasn’t the same wavy fervent smell of nature. It was an awkward motionless whiff in the air, blocking the smell of nature from invading their territory. I struggled up onto four legs. This wasn’t home. That was before I noticed my paw wasn’t there. I tripped over seconds later, head first onto the floor. I didn’t hear my tail flop onto the floor. I turned my head and saw no tail, but a bleeding hole. I screamed. Who could have done this? Which sick person did this? I saw a chainsaw tipped with my fine blood, each tiny blade smeared with the burgundy wound salvia. My wound salvia. I would catch revenge on whoever did this. That one person. No matter what. I leaped up… but wait… Mandy Burton kept it to herself for three months. Mandy Burton was a skimpy rat like me; she became successful when she caught the killer. But I wasn’t Mandy Burton. I am a skimpy rat, and always will be. Nothing changes… but as I grew from a minuscule hatchling, I became taller. Those were changes, I cannot deny. I needed advice. I remembered my favourite part, quickly urged to take my left hand to my bag and take my extra Mandy Burton copy. I didn’t spend any coins in particular for the book; a Shenum tribe relative came over here on my tenth birthday and gave me her Mandy Burton copy as a present. I always knew I needed it for something, and I’ve kept in my backpack ever since, even two years from that day. The other gifts I received was a droopy, sticky pot from Jacob and a educational paper from the rest of the tribe with tips on the right path to choose in the future, which Chief Shenum told me was a present from ‘all’ of us, and I cannot forget the giant boat, mansion, unlimited convexity element, 800,000,000,000,000,050,000,000,190,000,000 gold coins (times eighteen), teleport machine (which can take me to anywhere I want in less than a second), time machine, food machine (makes food for me when I am hungry), giant queen sized bed, another 500,000,000 coins, 5000 CM tall chocolate fountain from Jake and Mandy. I know two years is not a lot, but most of it goes slow for me, apart from Chief Shenum’s birthday. I pulled the book out and turned to page 156, which I knew off by heart…

The cricket-bat lurked, covered in blood and haunting Mandy. This time Mandy was a victim. But if Millie could be an imbecile and a popular dragon, then she was sure she could be a detective and a victim at the same time, but then that would make her have to tell the detective everything she knew about the subject, therefore it would be best to keep this facts to herself for a while, until it goes all over the newspapers.


I glanced at the chainsaw once more. Looks like I had a quest to start. I heard footsteps. My second clue already – and it lived in my mind only.

I screwed up the paper and growled. What nonsense was that? It has been years since I wrote that. And I know who killed me. Mandy Burton. I am Abigail Mantle. I am hated by my own family and I am sewing dead animals up into individual monsters to kill the future imbeciles. Only two more years until they start there quest, another few months and they’ll be dead even if I die once I freeze the earth and its surroundings, while fighting those of there friends who have died as zombies. Ice is my life; ice will be everyone’s life…