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Dragon Story Spooky Stories


This is The Reluctant Dragon Story for. One evening, long ago, a shepherd ran home, terrified. It has long, sharp claws, a long pointy tail, and shiny blue scales all over its body. The next day, he set off up the hill to find the dragon.

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We had awakened early Dragon story spooky stories winter morning, puzzled at first by the added light that filled the room. But that's not British, and we want a real British beast. I always said, you know, that that cave up there was a dragon-cave. They knew that book-learning often came in useful at a pinch, in spite of what their neighbours said. Did you say a iguanodon? Oh, why did I leave my pleasant fireside? Here his tracks became blended with and lost among more ordinary footprints, but imagination and a fixed idea will do a great deal, and we were sure we knew the direction a dragon would naturally take.

Next day, after he'd had his tea, the Boy strolled up the chalky track that led to the summit of the Downs; and there, sure enough, he found the dragon, stretched lazily on the sward in front of his cave. Scales, you know, and claws, and a tail for certain, though I didn't see that end of him—I ain't used to 'em, and I don't hold with 'em, and that's a fact! And to tell the truth, I'm not half happy in my own mind, thinking of that poor animal lying alone up there, without a bit o' hot supper or anyone to change the news with; and maybe we'll be able to do something for him; and if he ain't quite respectable our Boy'll find it out quick enough.

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Only I thought I saw his little footprints in the snow, and we followed 'em up, and they seemed to lead right in here, but maybe it's all a mistake, and thank you all the same. But when he saw it was a Boy, he set his eyebrows severely. Now the shepherd spent his days—and at certain times of the year his nights too—up on the wide ocean-bosom of the Downs, with only the sun and the stars and the sheep for company, and the friendly chattering world of men and women far out of sight and hearing.

The Man sighed heavily and looked about him. We ran the monster across the paddock and along the hedge of the next field, and then he took to the road like any tame civilised taxpayer. Our spirits rose to their wonted level Dragon story spooky stories. But his little son, when he wasn't helping his father, and often when he was as well, spent much of his time buried in big volumes that he borrowed from the affable gentry and interested parsons of the country round about. The view from that point was a magnificent one.

Seems like something lizardy. Once inside, I knew where we were. So this very evening, before I come down, I took a cast round by the cave, quietly.

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Well, I will tell you a story. And I'll stroll up to-morrow morning—no, in the morning I can't, I've got a whole heap of things to do—well, perhaps in the evening, if I'm quite free, I'll go up and have a talk to him, and you'll find it'll be all right. At last she dragged me excitedly through a gap in a hedge of an obviously private character; the waste, open world of field and hedgerow disappeared, and we found ourselves in a garden, well-kept, secluded, most undragon-haunted in appearance. Oh, yes, a peaceable sort o' beast enough, and not ramping or carrying on or doing anything but what was quite right and proper.

The short armistice over, the combat was d; but presently Charlotte and I, a little weary of contests and of missiles that ran shudderingly down inside one's clothes, forsook the trampled battle-field of the lawn and went exploring the blank virgin spaces of the white world that lay beyond. And his parents were very fond of him, and rather proud of him too, Dragon story spooky stories they didn't let on in his hearing, so he was left to go his own way and read as much as he liked; and instead of frequently getting a cuff on the side of the head, as might very well have happened to him, he was treated more or less as an equal by his parents, who sensibly thought it a very fair division of labour that they should supply the practical knowledge, and he the book-learning.

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This put me on my mettle, and I hastily rattled off a string of animal names embracing both the arctic and the tropic zones, but without much real confidence. Faint imprints showed where a casual bird had alighted, but of other traffic there was next to no ; which made these strange tracks all the more puzzling. And it's getting dark, and he seems to have got away for the present, whatever he is. I always said it must have belonged to a dragon some time, and ought to belong to a dragon now, if rules count for anything.

Might be that, p'raps. Charlotte took me across another field or two, and through a copse, and into a fresh road; and I began to feel sure it was only her confounded pride that made her go on pretending to Dragon story spooky stories dragon-tracks instead of owning she was entirely at fault, like a reasonable person. He might scratch and spit, but he couldn't do anything really. But a walk with a real Man—why, that was a treat in itself!

A cool breeze played over the surface of the grass and the silver shoulder of a large moon was showing above distant junipers. The striking of six o'clock set the more prudent Charlotte nudging me, and we recalled ourselves with an effort from Beastland, and reluctantly stood up to go. A little dragon would be rather nice to have. The circus-man looked round about him slowly. I admit all that.

You don't understand 'em a bit, and they're very sensitive, you know! Experienced trappers that we knew ourselves to be, it was annoying to be brought up suddenly by a beast we could not at once identify. Then, when the truth at last fully dawned on us and we knew that snow-balling was no longer a wistful dream, but a solid certainty waiting for us outside, it was a mere brute fight for the necessary clothes, and the lacing of boots seemed a clumsy invention, and the buttoning of coats an unduly tedious form of fastening, with all that snow going to waste at our very door.

We set off briskly, the Man in the middle. Only a dragon indeed!

Short story

In a poetry-book presented to one of us by an aunt, there was a poem by one Wordsworth, in which they stood out strongly—with a picture all to themselves, too—but we didn't think very highly either of the poem or the sentiment. The Boy, who had apparently been absorbed in his book during his father's recital, now closed the volume, yawned, clasped his hands behind his head, and said sleepily:.

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He had his chin on his paws, and I should say he was meditating about things. He was as big as four cart-horses, and all covered with shiny scales—deep-blue scales at the top of him, shading off to a tender sort o' green below. Rules always come right if you wait quietly.

To the right and left, the bare and willowy leagues of Downs; in front, the vale, with its clustered homeste, its thre of white ro running through orchards and well-tilled acreage, and, far away, a hint of grey old cities on the horizon. Let's track him down! Only, please, don't you go worrying round there without me.

Spooky dragon

Well, for some time past there's been faint noises coming from that cave—noises like heavy sighings, with grunts mixed up in them; and sometimes a snoring, far away down—real snoring, yet somehow not honest snoring, like you and me o' nights, you know! But if I come across one I'll know it belongs to you, and I'll have him taken round to you at once. This was the garden of my friend the circus-man, though I had never approached it before by a lawless gap, Dragon story spooky stories this unfamiliar side.

Footprints in the sand, now, were quite another matter, and we grasped Crusoe's attitude of mind much more easily than Wordsworth's. So we set off into the wide snow-clad world, hand in hand, our hearts big with expectation,—complacently confident that by a few smudgy traces in the snow we were in a fair way to capture a half-grown specimen of a fabulous beast. As he breathed, there was that sort of flicker over his nostrils that you see over our chalk ro on a baking windless day in summer.

What the Boy chiefly dabbled in was natural history and fairy-tales, and he just took them as they came, in a sandwichy sort of way, without making any distinctions; and really his course of reading strikes one as rather sensible. But Charlotte, whose young mind was not set on tobacco as a possible goal, made herself heard from the other side.

Long ago—might have been hundreds of years ago—in a cottage half-way between this village and yonder shoulder of the Downs up there, a shepherd lived with his wife and their little son. Excitement and mystery, curiosity and suspense—these were the only sentiments that tracks, whether in sand or in snow, were able to arouse in us. We came across them first at the corner of the shrubbery, and pored over them long, our hands on our knees. And what do you know about it? Well, now you tell me it has got a dragon, and so that's all right.

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The way had seemed so long, the outside world so dark and eerie, after the bright warm room and the highly-coloured beast-book. There was marmalade, too, and apricot-jam, brought in expressly for us; and afterwards the beast-book was spread out, and, as the man had truly said, it contained every sort of beast that had ever been in the world. We were always ready for tea at any time, and especially when combined with beasts. You know about sheep, and weather, and things; I know about dragons. I'm not half as much surprised as when you told me it hadn't got a dragon.

One evening the shepherd, who for some nights past had been disturbed and preoccupied, and off his usual mental balance, came home all of a tremble, and, sitting down at the table where his wife and son were peacefully employed, she with her seam, he in following out the adventures of the Giant with no Heart in his Body, exclaimed with much agitation:. Now, please, just leave this all to Dragon story spooky stories. But of course, as you say, it may be a mistake. It's got every beast in the world, and all of 'em coloured; and we'll try and find your beast in it!

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It stretched away unbroken on every side of us, this mysterious soft garment under which our familiar world had so suddenly hidden itself. I'm quite alone, and we'll make a roaring fire, and I've got the biggest Book of Beasts you ever saw. And there—O Lord! You'd better come in and have some tea. I looked up at him and wondered whether I should ever live to smoke a big pipe with that careless sort of majesty!

No wonder the dragon seemed in a peaceful and contented mood; indeed, as the Boy approached he could hear the beast purring with a happy regularity.

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And yet, what am I to do? The traces, too, kept reappearing at intervals—at least Charlotte maintained they did, and as it was her dragon I left the following of the slot to her and trotted along peacefully, feeling that it was an expedition anyhow and something was sure to come out of it. And here was the circus-man himself, placidly smoking a pipe as he strolled up and down the walks. He's got a pleasant sort o' way with him that makes everybody tell him everything. He's wonderful knowing about book-beasts, as every one allows. When dinner-time came we had to be dragged in by the scruff of our necks.

The reluctant dragon story

You needn't talk to me unless you like. I think it's a dragon! Only let me think a minute. The dragon, on hearing the approaching footsteps, made the beginning of a courteous effort to rise. P'raps this is a little dragon who's got lost. I stepped up to him and asked him politely if he had lately seen a Beast.

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