Atop the cliff it landed,
A shape so giant and dark.
It's cat-like eyes of orange,
Flash in the morning light.
It's teeth sharp as a sharks.
It watches the scene below,
And it waits.
This is a valley of chaos,
A time of the reanimated,
A time of the Living Dead.
Those who are survivors,
Daren't look up.
They don't see the Protector,
Perched,
Ready to strike.
The guns of the survivors,
Blast out in the morning air!
The moans of the defiled,
Lost in the constant screams of the bitten,
The eaten,
The dead reborn.
An almighty roar!
All look up in fear.
Atop the cliff the dark shape rises,
Rises to its full ethereal height.
It's leathery wings outstretched,
Silhouetted against the Sun.
Another roar of defiance!
It launches from its perch.
Swooping from its high point,
Swiftly descending in attack.
Survivors run in terror,
But them it does not touch.
Fire issues forth from its lips,
Burning the living dead,
Purifying the earth in its wake.
Ancient talons relieve the afflicted of their new life.
The living cheer it on!
As swiftly as it had begun,
It is over.
The Dragon has fulfilled its purpose.
It lands at town centre.
Roars of triumph,
Drown the jubilant cheers of the people.
Then majestically,
It spreads it's wings,
And lifts itself from the ground.
The living watch in awe,
As it circles around the town,
Then flies towards the sun lit cliffs.
There it lands to survey its work,
And after a while,
Leaves for its cozy lair.
To wait to be called again.
To wait patiently.
The Survivors begin to rebuild,
Thankful for their lives,
Grateful to their Protector,
Their Saviour,
Who returns to watch,
From time to time,
Sitting atop the cliff.
Silhouetted against the Sun...
J R A Gigney (4th & 5th May 2012)
