The One Left Behind

The One Left Behind
by D.E.Bryson

There are few things as wonderful to watch as dragons at play. Sure, the sight of celestial angels or carefree fairies may hold the hearts of many, but to actually behold dragons at play is a sight few have ever witnessed. Dragons, creatures of pure power, natural engines of destruction and awesome grandeur, at joyous play is a sight few ever stop to consider. The massive dragons flying effortlessly though the air, dodging in and out to merrily brush another dragon in a game only those that had left the bounds of gravity behind could enjoy. Entangling their tails in frivolous affection and clenching their paws together as they spun in the air is a wonder in marvelous ecstasy.
But one of them could not enjoy it.
In the air far above, dozens of dragons flew the skies with their mates and children. Many were at play or simply enjoying the clear blue sky and warm sun provided by the day. Each had another to share their joy with. A feeling of bright happiness was shared among all.
But down below, in a dark crevice another dragon watched with longing and heartache. He didn’t want to watch the scene but every day he couldn’t help but look up. Up to the skies he’d never soar again, for this dragon had a broken wing. The wing hung limp and crooked, shattered by another dragon and with no hope of healing correctly. He’d survived the injury but the loss of the wing had taken a part of him that could never be brought back.
Alone he watched the others soar, unnoticed in their play, uncared for in their world. Not that they could do much for him. Not that he wanted them to, let alone be seen in his disgraceful state.
He continued to watch and as the dragons above moved on, he whimpered. To him the sight brought back the bittersweet memories of flying with the others. The sweet memory of feeling air beneath his wings, seeing the sky above and the ground far, far below all came to him as he watched. Sadness was all that was left to him as bitter reality came back to him; the reality that it could never be again. When the last of the dragons left his sight, he let out a sad sound. A longing moan that none but he heard. He found himself trying in vain to flap his shattered wing. It could only miserably twitch. Painful, shaming realization ended the attempt. Hanging his head low, the dragon turned back to his home. An empty cave once filled with riches and treasures few had ever beheld. Not anymore. The once warm home had become a hole he could only crawl into daily, like a lowly reptile. No more could this great creature of legend be what he once was and this hole was evidence of it. Curling into himself, he lay somberly in the dark. His own lonely warmth: the only companion this sad, broken creature would ever know.