Dragon Me Around

dragon-1085225_960_720None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t been born colorblind, so it’s your parents’ fault really. Sure, your cousin Millie dragged you to the party and shoved that huge bowl of popcorn in your face, but she didn’t make you eat it. As your thirst grew, you tried to remember what she’d said about the punch.

You look around and spot Millie on the dance floor grinding on the idiot who stole your parking spot moments prior. The scoff you let escape earns a few sidelong glances, but you don’t really care. Five minutes into the party, and she’s already abandoned you for your latest nemesis.

After giving up on Millie, you meander over to the punch bowl. As long as you stay away from the cups labeled M, you should be okay. Or was it W? No, definitely M. The blue cups with the W meant water. In your thirst-riddled state, you reach for a glass.

Maybe next time you’ll pay more attention to which side of the table is considered the “front.”

Suddenly, your body starts to stretch. Your legs elongate, and you feel like you do after you’ve eaten too much candy, sluggish and tight in your own skin.

“Oh my God!” a woman shrieks beside you. Her eyes go wide as she stares.

The music skips and gasps of shock fill the room as you grow larger, your skin turning leathery and talons replacing your fingernails. “W-what’s happening?”

“Get it outside!” the host yells. Which, one: rude. And two: no need to cause a panic.

When you turn around toward the back door, you feel your back nudge the table.

“Watch the tail.”

“Tail?” you repeat, your voice dropping into a low timber. You spin around to see for yourself only to knock over the table. Drinks go flying everywhere, and you’re pretty sure you hear someone scream they’re melting, but you have other things to worry about, like how you grew a tail. “Millie?”

“I’m right here, cuz. We need to get you outside.”

That sounds like a great idea considering your head just hit the ceiling. The room looks so small, as do its inhabitants, and you feel the rumble of the ground as you take your first step toward the sliding glass door. Oh no… will you even fit? “Someone shrunk the house, Millie.”

“Not exactly.”

You get halfway through the door before you get stuck around the middle. Then what feels like baby hands start pushing you the rest of the way. “Stop that,” you snicker. “It t-tickles.”

With one last-ditch effort, the other guests free you from the door, and the momentum sends you shooting out like a bullet. That’s when you feel your back split open as you start to sprout wings. And you know they’re wings because a few flaps of them lift you into the night sky, narrowly saving you from a dive in the pool. The mermaids sigh in relief.

Wait, mermaids?

“What the hell is going on?” you demand once you’ve made it back on solid ground. You might’ve crash landed into the shed, but you’ve only had wings for a minute or two.

“Did you drink the magic punch?” Millie asks, hands on her hips as she waits with a reprimand.

“Magic? Of course not. I grabbed a blue cup from the W row.”

“No, your cup was a green,” a very helpful observer corrects.

Smoke billows from your nose when you turn to glare at them, and they quirk their brows before retreating.

“I’m colorblind, they both looked blue,” you explain. In irritation, you flick the tip of your tail and hear a scream followed by a splash. “Sorry!”

Millie sighs and crosses her arms. “I forgot about that.”

“Give it to me straight, Mil? Am I a… dragon?”

“Afraid so, but don’t worry. The spell should wear off by sunrise.”

“Sunrise?!”

“Hey, Dragon,” a man yells from behind you. “Light the fire pit, will ya?”

“Light the what?”

“That tail is lethal!” Millie shouts as you spin around, taking out a hedge by the fence.

The man waves you over. He has a bag of marshmallows under one arm and is standing in front of a round pit. “Dragons breath fire, right?”

“I guess.”

“Well, do you mind helping me out?”

You shrug. “I can try.”

Millie suggests you do a few test runs by breathing fire into the air. It’s a good call because the first two tries are a disaster. The first fireball went flying into the neighbor’s pool, much to their chargrin, and another landed in the street, but after a little practice, you manage to keep the intensity down to a small trickle of flames.

“Okay, I think I got the hang of it.”

The partygoers all move behind you for safety as you take aim for the fire pit. The host has a hold of the water hose just in case, and you take a deep breath and try to focus on the logs in the pit. Your first attempt results in a sputtering of sparks, but your second try is a success. The people cheer, and in your excitement, you release a celebratory fireball into the air.

You have no idea where that one lands.

The party continues as usual after that as half the people go back inside to dance. The other half request rides from you, and you spend a good chunk of the evening flying people around the neighborhood. At one point, you break up a fight between a vampire and a werewolf, both of whom had also drank the magic punch, and you have a delightful conversation with a Pegasus whose number you score.

When you wake up on the lawn sometime after sunrise, you’re all but ready to dismiss the whole night as an alcohol-induced disillusion, but your singed eyebrows and aching shoulder blades give you pause.

“I’m still thirsty,” you tell Millie after you find her among the snoring bodies and solo cups.

“Let’s get something on the way home,” she suggests, and after your crazy night, you have to agree.

You pass your stolen parking spot on the way to your car, and your eyes widen at the burnt out Camaro sitting in it. You and Millie share a look as you increase your pace.

“Well,” she chuckles when she slips into your car, “I guess we found that missing fireball.”

“Yeah… remind me to find out what they put in that punch.”



This was a fun one. I hope you enjoyed it.

Next prompt is five words that must be used: pirate, pumpkin, peanut, puppy, power.

All P’s! Happy writing!

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