Dyrin held the bag in his hand, thinking about the horse he had seen at the stables the other day. His mind made up, he clenched the bag and shoved it into his pocket. The iron gate to the tunnel creaked and scraped on its hinges, as he opened it.
Sometimes at night, it’s quiet enough to hear the cries of the souls that float along the surface. A woman’s soul once asked me, “Please, tell my son I’m sorry,” as she bobbed past. But no one can help them.
When the horizon had given up the last of its glowing gradient, something thumped the bottom of her boat. There was some splashing in the water and more thumping as her boat began rocking back and forth. She laid there with her eyes closed, too terrified to look.
As I stare at a reflection of the moon and stars on the pond’s surface, a blue mist begins to form in the center. Without a sound it swirls around itself and grows, until it forms a translucent blue dragon.
Its voice was gruff and deep… “All persons wishing to permanently enter Fairytale World must pay a fee of one happy memory.”