Headed over to Flash! Friday again -it's a celebration of draconic proportions as they celebrate the turning of their own personal clock. 'Tis an anniversary!
Go...look...and post a story of your own if you're in to flash fiction - there's still time to contribute, and PLENTY to read. Below is my submission:
Orange against black. Subtle licks of cerulean, scarlet, saffron and emerald flare into being to vanish in an instant later without a trace. Elongated fingers of incandescence stretch into the void to momentarily paint their essence onto the obsidian night sky.
It is alive with movement - sliding, shifting, waving, weaving - its hypnotic, primal dance both beautiful and terrible as it crafts a timeless, mesmerizing, elemental ballet of destruction.
The voice of combustion, a low, throaty growling howl of clean air transformed to sweltering luminescence, whispering secret desires into the ears of those who worship it.
They listen, comprehending the flare's song in that most primitive portion of the brain. They stare, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed, into the complex twisting leap and swirl of the living flame. They are powerless to resist the compelling demands of spark, ember, pyre.
Some men live to watch the world burn.