Today I thought I'd share something from a work-in-progress (and this one is very much 'in progress' since it is my current endeavour and I am, at present, about halfway through the first draft). I am writing this novella for a collection call at Less Than Three Press, in which the stories need to have a dragon theme.
Its working title is Cursed with Claws and this scene takes place as the villagers prepare to select their yearly sacrifice to send to the dragon who lives atop the mountain. It is, as I said, only an unedited first draft, so please forgive any errors.
The wise men from the nine villages stood side by side and the large crowd gathered around them. No one spoke, the grim reality of what was about to occur ridding all of any urge to chatter. Even the youngest children sensed the solemnity and made no attempt to frolic, clinging to their mothers' skirts, their eyes wide and fearful. The silence continued until the sun disappeared below the horizon, at which point Master Hob cleared his throat and stepped forward."Friends, we come here to fulfil our yearly duty. The tribute stands ready, but one item yet remains. It is time to select our sacrifice. Let the chosen one's family seek no retribution for their loss. Take this vow now before God."