The Dragon's Bride

I must make myself available to live.

Once upon a time...... No, our story won’t start like that.

Desolation, Middleton. A small village west of the Moon, and east of the Sun, the southernmost village in the Country of Charming.

Population, 275.

Ironic isn’t it? Charming in Desolation. Or more like Desolation with a little Charming, either way, this one mule village wasn’t like other small villages you saw in the movies. Unless it was a black and white silent film where all the people wore nothing but fur, the pavements were chunks of concrete and they lived too far from the Capital.

Without the luxury of a Starbucks, or even a real supermarket. Only exchanging fish and grains when the weather wasn’t a torturing cold force that froze over even the sun.

The high school and pre-school were one and the same, with an old chalkboard and elders that couldn’t even remember their own last names as teachers.

Only a few were smart enough to leave, only the dumb and stubborn stayed.

Those with good enough houses (The Village Chief and his foot soldiers) lived to the north, being the first a visitor would see. The poorer class was down south (away from those deemed important to the village, and potential investors.) While in the middle class, well, they were scattered all over, their way of avoiding classism, and whatever other ‘isms’ there were.

Desolation was easy and uncomplicated, for the most part, but at the same time it wasn’t the kindest of places, the elders were mostly barbaric, and old fashioned (slow with understanding but quick to anger.)

The real name should be Snoring Macboring. Nothing ever happens.

Well, until now.

No one saw it coming, not even the town’s crier who claimed that his daughter has the power of foresight, gifted to her by an Oracle.

Things that were only thought to be stories, stories that mothers warned their children not to indulge in, calling them nonsensical antics. Might just be true.