Skip to main content

Dragon of Light or Darkness



Once in dragon land, there was a young dragon name Brad. There was a tradition in dragon land that dragons would have to chose his side and become either a dragon of light or darkness.


When time comes each dragon had to chose his side and join army. All dragons would chose his side and train for years before big change but Brad was undecided and time was running out. At dawn his wings would be changed for life.


Both group of dragons had hatred for each other and once wings change they will remain like that forever and dragon have to had hatred for other for rest of his life.


Because if this Brad went to forest to think and in hope to find answer. While sitting there in silence he saw the beauty of night. Beautiful white full moon shimmering, cool and soft wind blowing, night full of stars.


For nothing in the World did Brad want to become a dragon of light in order to hate all that wonder and he felt his wings slowly begin to dye into the color of the night.


As time went by, Night was losing its strength and first light of dawn was making its way. Brad loved that time of day and gentle first ray of sun on his face. Brad didn’t want to hate it either.


Brad felt sad and tears flooded his eyes. Before Brad wings color would change for final, he flew deep into lake to find peace and then flew up high into sky as high as it could, in order to escape its fate.


When he had flown so high that the cold prevented him from moving his wings, he opened his mouth to spit out a great flame, as if to spend it completely, to never have it again But instead of fire, a thin layer of frost came out of his mouth and covered fields below.


Only then he discovered that he wouldn’t be a dragon of just light or darkness but now his one wing belong to moon and one wing belong to sun.


After attaining final form. Brad would not decorate fields with his frosty breath and would remind world that its not necessary to chose between day and night when you don’t want to hate.


Moral: It’s not necessary to see things as Black and White or Chose sides. When we don’t want to Hate. Having Peace with ourselves is Best way to Live.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

McDow Hole – Anatomy Of A Texas Ghost Story

  Spooky Texas legend of the McDow Hole, where ghost sightings of pioneer woman Jenny Papworth and her baby have long been reported.  Written by Bob Hopkins . I first heard the legendary tale of the Ghost of the McDow Hole in the fifteenth year of my youth. It was near Halloween in October 1975 when a friend related the tale of the ghost that haunts a creek bed in rural Erath County and naturally I believed every word of it in the twilight of an evening spent with friends telling ghost stories. I would again hear the tale over the years while living in North Central Texas. It wasn’t until my chance encounter of meeting an author of the legend in 2002 that my curiosity began to peak and like any good investigator I felt it my duty to dig deeper into the hundred year old tale of pioneer folklore to see how much of the story was true and how much was fabricated. I would discover many similarities in fact and fiction that I believed would leave any reader with the same curiosity that I fel

Mama Coon Coon: A Louisiana Swamp Folktale

  Now I’ll just bet that none of you have ever heard the story of Mama Coon Coon and the blue waters of the bayou, have you? Well, we know the story, and I think we need to tell it to you right now. Once upon a time, the waters of the bayou were black – as black as ink. Now, even though these waters were black, they were still filled with lots and lots of fishes, shrimp and crab. And all of the fishermen would wake up early in the morning, long before the sun had even come above the horizon, and they would cast their nets down into the deep, black water. And what a wonderful sight it was at the end of the day to watch those fishermen pulling in their nets overflowing with all kinds of fishes, shrimp and crab. Dulac Louisiana Bayou by  Clem . Licensed under  CC BY-SA 2.0 . Now all the fishermen fished early in the morning, with the exception of one fisherman – or should I say fisherwoman. Her name was Mama Coon Coon. You see, that is the name the local village children gave her because

Belle Boyd, Confederate Spy

  One warm spring day, I left my home in Washington, D.C. and took a long drive through the rolling, peaceful farm country in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. I worked in the city as a tax accountant, but most of my co-workers didn’t know about my secret hobby – I was a Civil War collector. Ever since I was a child, I had collected old Civil War books, maps, clothing, and in later years, weapons. Now as a middle-aged man, my interest had grown to what some would call an obsession. Although it’s hard to believe today, this peaceful Virginia valley was the scene of some of the bloodiest battles of the war. Driving through this historic land not only satisfied my hunger for history, but calmed my nerves far away from the hustle and bustle of home. Some folks say that ghosts wander the earth in places where horrible deaths took place, their lives suddenly ripped away from them before they knew what happened. So it’s no wonder that so many Civil War ghost stories come from the Shenandoah Valle