Uncle George the Dragon

‘What are you reading?’ Alys asked, glancing over the steaming cauldron at her diminutive dragon. His pointy tail was twitching with agitation as he read from the crumpled piece of parchment in front of him.

‘It’s a letter from my Uncle George. It just arrived by doormat.’ Sparky put his head on one side. ‘I didn’t know I had any family.’

‘Nor me. What does it say?

‘It says he wants to visit; something about a family tree. At least I think that’s what it says. His writing is terrible.’

Alys peered at the parchment. ‘Well, if he’s a relative of yours I suppose we should invite him.’

The room darkened. Something very large was squashed up against the window. Alys hurried over to see what it was.

‘Oh, I think this must be Uncle George.’

Sparky flew to her shoulder and together they opened the back door to a huge scaly green flank which undulated as its owner turned around. A large but friendly-looking face appeared. ‘Hello,’ it said, yellow saucer eyes gleaming.

‘You must be Uncle George.’ A welcoming plume of purple smoke issued from Sparky’s snout.

‘I was expecting someone… er, smaller,’ said Alys, edging around the door and stepping into the only part of the yard which wasn’t occupied by Uncle George. His great paws sunk into her carefully-tended herb and flower beds and his tail was draped inelegantly over the little garden shed which complained crossly under its weight.

Alys remembered her manners. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said politely.

‘So, this is young Sparky, is it?’ Uncle George grinned toothily. ‘I haven’t got long, I’ve lots of relatives to visit.’ He rummaged under his left wing and retrieved a battered book. Then he felt under his chin and pulled out a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles which he perched precariously on his huge green snout.

Sparky flew up and landed on Uncle George’s head, so as better to see the book. He read the title: Who’s Who in the Dragon World.

‘What are you doing up there, boy? Can’t you see I’m trying to read?’ Uncle George said sternly.

‘Sorry, I just wanted to look at the book too.’ A little steam of sapphire smoke seeped from his snout.

‘All right, but keep still.’ Uncle George leafed through the pages with a golden claw.

‘You don’t look like each other at all,’ ventured Alys.

Uncle George ignored her and continued his perusal of the pages. ‘You know, boy, you could be a high-born dragon just like me. Caves and castles, riches and…’

He was interrupted by a big booming voice. ‘George, there you are!’ A bearded face appeared over the wall.

Alys looked around in alarm. Another giant! She’d only just repaired her ceiling after the last one visited.

‘Sorry, Miss,’ the giant apologized, flashing an identity card at her. He smiled sympathetically at Uncle George. ‘My name’s Arthur, I’m afraid George gets awfully confused.

Uncle George looked up. ‘Oh dear, I’ve been rumbled again.

Sparky flew over and perched on the wall, just out of Arthur’s reach. ‘What’s going on? This is my uncle.’ A handful of indignant indigo sparks flared from his nostrils.

Arthur sighed. ‘He’s escaped from the Home for Delusional Dragons again. Not your fault, of course, his letters can be very persuasive. I expect you invited him, didn’t you?’

Alys and Sparky nodded.

‘It breaks the Spell of Confinement if you do, you see.’

‘Perhaps you need to change your spell,’ suggested Alys.

‘Yes, Miss, we will. We don’t want to be too harsh on him though. He’s had a rough time. Gambled all the family riches away…’

‘And I’m not part of that family?’ asked Sparky.

Arthur chuckled. ‘I don’t think so young’un.’

‘I’m fully grown,’ replied Sparky stoutly.

‘Well then, you’re not likely to be related to a dragon like George, are you?’

Sparky stared at George, who was folding his horn-rimmed spectacles. ‘Don’t I have any family?’ asked Sparky plaintively.

George shrugged his huge shoulders.

‘Ready, George?’ asked Arthur.

George nodded happily. ‘Lot’s more family to visit, eh?’

Arthur waved a giant-sized wand and both he and George vanished. The garden shed sighed with relief.

Alys turned to her diminutive dragon. ‘You’ve still got me, Sparky.’

‘And you’re all the family I need, Alys,’ he replied, sending up a pretty plume of purple smoke. ‘I’ll fetch your wand and we can tidy up the garden.’

Alys smiled. Sparky was all the family she needed too.


Image credit: sqbr on deviantart.com

A small cute purple dragon
Read more Alys and Sparky adventures here

An Alpine Adventure

cartoon picture of an edelweiss flower

Alys unpacked her latest doormat delivery from Acme’s Ingredients for Witches. It was a bumper order as she’d used the voucher she’d been given as a reward for capturing the bogus Dragon Inspector.

‘One item’s missing,’ said Sparky, consulting the delivery note. ‘Distillation of Edelweiss is out of stock.’

‘That’s the ingredient I was particularly waiting for. I need it for my Special Skin Cream for the More Mature Witch.’ Alys frowned. ‘Does it say when they’ll be getting more stock?’

The diminutive dragon shook his head. ‘Isn’t there anywhere else you can get it from?’

Alys shrugged. ‘It’s imported from Switzerland. Edelweiss grows in the Alps there.’

‘We could try contacting the manufacturers,’ suggested Sparky.

Alys took a dark blue bottle from the shelf and examined the flower-shaped label. There’s a doormat address here. I suppose I could try sending them a note.’

‘Or we could visit,’ said Sparky through an excited puff of purple smoke.

‘That would be an adventure! We’ve never been abroad.’

‘We went to Scotland for the Dragon-Flame Games last year,’ Sparky reminded her.

‘That’s not abroad.’

‘Well, it was foreign,’ retorted Sparky. ‘If it hadn’t been for the Babel-Fish Charm we’d have never understood what anyone was saying!’ He flew across the room and hovered by the door. ‘Shall we go then?’

Alys hesitated for a moment then, snatching up her wand, she joined him on the doormat.

cartoon picture of an edelweiss flower

They found themselves looking up at huge flower-shaped emblem which hung over the front doors of a large building. All around them were green fields carpeted in alpine flowers with snow-capped mountains beyond.

The doors opened to reveal a short, white-bearded man wearing a red hat, whose appearance reminded Alys of a garden gnome. ‘Welcome to Edelweiss Paradise,’ said the little man grandly. ‘My name is Otto.’

‘We came to buy some of your Distillation of Edelweiss,’ said Alys brightly.

Otto smiled, but then his face fell and his shoulders sagged.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Alys, while Sparky, who was perching on her shoulder, snorted out a concerned stream of violet smoke.

Otto stared at the diminutive dragon. ‘Please. Come inside.’

They followed Otto into the building. The walls were lined with a series of copper vessels connected by a maze of pipes leading up from a central smoke-stained pit. Further along was a bottling area, with a line of the familiar dark blue bottles standing on a long table.

The factory, however, was silent.

‘What happened?’ asked Alys.

Otto walked over to the fire pit. ‘The Eternal Flame which has fired our production for two hundred years has gone out. We’ve tried everything to rekindle it, but…’ Otto shook his head sadly. ‘Our village is desperate. We sold the last of our stock a month ago and this is our livelihood.’

Sparky sprang up and hovered over the pit, tiny flames issuing from his snout. He landed on the edge and looked up at Alys.

The young witch nodded and took out her wand. ‘Initio incendio!’ Alys commanded.

Sparky took a deep breath and blew a great golden gout of flames at the centre of the pit.

Nothing happened.

‘Again, Sparky!’

A blaze of bright blue flames poured forth from the tiny dragon’s mouth. Alys enunciated her incantation again. The flames glowed white-hot and with a whoosh the pit was ablaze. Alys and Sparky withdrew as the flames shot up towards the roof, then died down to a steady, healthy crackle.

‘You did it!’ Otto exclaimed. The factory doors flew open and a group of small gnome-like people flooded in, all whooping and cheering.

cartoon picture of an edelweiss flower

The retired cauldron quivered with pleasure as Alys draped a fresh garland of fragrant alpine blooms around her rim.

‘Maybe we should travel to foreign parts more often,’ called out Sparky as he flew over to admire the flower-shaped Medal of Honour which stood proudly on their bookshelf.


Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite
Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #44

The challenge this week was foreign. Photo credit: 4570book.info

A small cute purple dragon
Read more Alys and Sparky adventures here

Cowboys, Beware!

jug of lemonade and two glasses

Alys waved her wand with a flourish. ‘Ceiling reparo!’

Sparky, her diminutive dragon, looked up as several stray flakes of plaster dislodged themselves.

Alys waved her wand again. ‘Plaster mendaro!’

The cracks in the ceiling made by the bogus dragon inspector stubbornly remained.

Alys lowered her wand. ‘I don’t know, Sparky. I’m no good at these DIY spells.’

‘Maybe we should call someone.’ He flew over to the bookshelf and pulled out a thin volume with a bright yellow cover. Sparky started leafing through the flimsy pages.

They were interrupted by a loud thud on the doormat heralding the arrival of two stocky little men wearing blue overalls. One held a large bucket and the other carried a ladder. ‘You called, Miss?’ they said in unison.

Alys turned to Sparky. ‘Did we?’

Sparky shook his head.

‘Aha,’ the two little men pointed at the ceiling. ‘We see your problem, Miss.’

‘Can you repair it?’ asked Alys hopefully.

‘Of course.’ Fred rubbed his hands together. ‘We’ll have this done in a jiffy.’

Alys returned to the kitchen where a hair preparation ‘for constantly flowing locks’ was gently simmering in her cauldron. Sparky followed carrying his new copy of Dragon Detectives’ Monthly which had arrived by doormat that morning. He’d only just settled down to read when a loud hiss of crimson steam issued from his nostrils.

BEWARE THESE COWBOY CONTRACTORS!’ the heading screamed. Sparky hastily silenced the article with a swift pat of his paw.

‘What is it, Sparky?’

Sparky put a purple claw to his mouth. He beckoned to Alys and pointed at the photograph. The faces of the two stocky workman stared out from the article. ‘Wanted in two counties for preying on the unwary, these practitioners of make and mend have been wreaking mischief and mayhem on unsuspecting clients’ homes. They extort money on the promise of rectification and then disappear without completing the work. Their most recent victim was Agatha of Agador…’

Alys looked up. Agatha was one of her best clients. ‘Poor Agatha!’ she exclaimed.

Alys ladled a couple of spoonsful of the preparation from her cauldron into a glass jug and muttered an incantation. The mixture fizzed and bubbled, then slowly cleared to a pleasant lemony colour.

She poured it into two glasses, winking at Sparky. ‘Refreshments, gentlemen,’ she called out cheerfully, carrying the glasses into the next room and putting them on the table.

The two men seized the glasses and drank. ‘That really hits the spot,’ said Bob.

‘Just as well,’ said Fred. ‘This job is trickier than we thought. We’ll need to come back tomorrow.’

Alys eyed the ceiling where there was now a gaping hole.

‘We need more materials,’ Fred rubbed his hands together, ‘and an advance on the payment.’

Sparky snatched up the Dragon Detective’s Weekly and flew across the room, dropping it on the table in front of the two men. A threatening shower of sparks spurted from his snout.

Fred put his hands on his hips. ‘So? D’you want the job finished or what?’

Bob nudged him. ‘Your hair, it’s… it’s green and it’s growing!’

Fred turned to him. His jaw dropped open. ‘So’s yours!’

Within seconds grisly green hair was pooling at their feet.

Alys glared at the two men. ‘Put my ceiling right and your hair will go back to normal.’ She twitched her wand and the hair began to curl and tighten around their bodies. ‘And finish all those other jobs,’ she pointed at the article.

‘That’s blackmail!’ Fred mumbled indistinctly through a forest of green beard.

‘Just do it,’ said Alys sweetly.


Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite
Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #42

The challenge this week was extort. Photo credit: dreamtime.com

A small cute purple dragon
Click here for more Alys and Sparky stories

The WI Competition

WI competition by Chris Hall lunasonlune

Alys eyed the glowing seed packet dubiously. It had just that minute materialised on her doormat with a note from Cheryl Charmworker, the Chairlady of the Inter-Coven Competition Committee.

‘Well, Sparky, this is going to be a challenge,’ Alys addressed her diminutive dragon who was still perusing Cheryl’s missive.

‘She’s asked you to represent the Western Sisterhood in the Witches’ Institute Flower and Produce competition!’

‘Only because everyone else is busy with the Mistress of Spells Symposium,’ said Alys moodily. ‘What do we know about growing stuff?’

‘We can only try, Alys. C’mon, let’s get planting. The competition’s this afternoon!’ Excited smoke danced from Sparky’s purple nostrils as he flew out of the back door.

Alys followed carrying the seed packet carefully. ‘Don’t wake until ready to sow’, the instructions had whispered.

With a bright burst of flames, Sparky cleared a patch of earth. Alys opened the packet and shook it. The tiny seeds sparkled and danced in the air before sowing themselves neatly in the fresh earth. Each seed produced a miniature spade and covered itself over. Moments later they heard the gentle sound of snoring coming from beneath the earth.

Alys and Sparky spent an anxious few hours anticipating the growth of their entry. Eventually they’d given up peeking out of the back door to find nothing happening. Alys returned to studying the ‘Biggest Book of Brilliant Spells’, while Sparky amused himself practicing his flame throwing skills in the hearth.

They were interrupted by a polite knock on the back door. Alys hurried to open it. The ugliest bunch of knobbly root vegetables she had ever seen lay neatly knotted together on the doorstep, pulsating with a peculiar pink colour. It was almost time to leave. Her heart sank. They were never going to win with these.

Alys and Sparky stood on the doormat. Alys had just read out their destination when a big bunch of tulips burst from the retired cauldron and placed itself on top of the basket holding the knobbly veggies. Alys smiled gratefully; maybe there was some hope after all.

The Witches Institute Hall hummed with excited conversation. No sooner had Alys and Sparky found their allotted spot than a judge arrived; a rotund black-bearded dwarf who introduced himself as Wilfred.

Wilfred eyed the tulips. ‘You grew these?’ he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Alys flushed. ‘Actually no, they were a present from my retired cauldron.’

Wilfred removed the offending flowers and peered into the basket. ‘What do we have here?’ he plucked the pulsating pink veggies from the basket.

Alys and Sparky exchanged a worried glance as Wilfred slowly turned them over in his calloused hands.  

‘These are magnificent!’ He leapt onto the table and held them aloft. ‘Pink Prestige Parsnips; notoriously difficult to grow.’ Wilfred beamed. ‘First Prize to the Western Witches’ Coven!’

A large red rosette appeared on the table next to Alys. Wilfred turned to her and whispered. ‘You would’t mind if I took a couple home, would you?’


Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite
Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #39

The challenge this week was prestige. Photo credit: clipart.com

The Test

what do you see 13 by chris hall lunasonline

Alys balled her fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. She stepped into the stone circle. Moonlight shone on the cromlechs and lit up the faces of the members of the coven who stood in eager silence. This was the final test. Unless she could prove her mastery of the fourth element, she’d be banished from the sisterhood forever.

She raised her head and closed her eyes, centering herself. Palms back to back, she laced her fingers and took a deep breath. Muttering an incantation she opened her hands. A tongue of fire issued forth. She held her open palm aloft for all to see.

She had conjured fire.

Another word, and the fire was extinguished. Alys slowly folded her hands and clasped them gently to her chest before descending from the stone circle. ‘Thanks Sparky,’ she whispered, as the miniature dragon scurried back up her sleeve.


Written in response to SadjeWhat Do You See #13 photo prompt.
Photo credit: Pixabay

Casting Woes

what do you see 12 by chris hall lunasonline

‘You’ve got me an audition for what?’ Freya stared at her agent in disbelief. ‘You are joking aren’t you?’ A neat curlicue of steam issued from her purple nostrils.

Jed Talent hurried across the room and flung open the office window. ‘Unikitty is big time, Freya.’

‘I’m a serious actress,’ Freya huffed. ‘I will not work in some Lego toy spin off.’ She raked a purple-painted talon across the arm of the capacious couch on which she was perched.

‘Sometimes we have to take what we can get, sweetie.’ Jed returned to his leather-upholstered armchair. ‘After your disastrous audition for G.O.T…’

Freya pouted. Her spiky tail began to twitch; the glass-topped coffee table in front of her rattled ominously.

‘Okay, okay.’ Jed held up his hands in surrender. ‘Not Unikitty.’

‘Well?’ Freya’s eyes smoldered. ‘What else have you for me?’

Rainbow Butterfly Unicorn Kitty?’

‘What’s with the unicorns, Jed? I’m a dragon!’ Freya snorted, issuing a shower of sparks from her nostrils.

Jed eyed the resulting scorch mark on his thick shag pile carpet.

‘You want me to dress up in drag?’

‘Unicorns are where the big-time is at, sweetie.’ Jed ran his fingers through his thinning hair.

‘If that’s the best you can do, I’m finding myself a new agent!’ Freya stood up and swept from the room, her tail overturning the coffee table as she went.

Jed sighed as he watched Freya fly off from his office window, her dazzling blue wings framed against the giant Hollywood letters.


Written in response to SadjeWhat Do You See #12 photo prompt.
Photo credit: Flickr

Read more about Freya’s story in The Audition

The Audition

what do you see by chris hall lunasonline

Freya admired her newly-polished talons. She glanced over her scaly shoulders at her wings, freshly adorned with the finest lapis lazuli, mined by the dwarves of Zendor. The elves had done a fine job on her.  It had cost her several gold coins from her secret horde, but it would be worth it. She was ready for the audition.

As a young actress she’d been an extra in the final Lord of the Rings film. She hadn’t enjoyed flying on by herself all the way to New Zealand. It had been exhausting. But there’d been no way she would have agreed to go in one of those flying metal contraptions, crated up like an animal. And then, after all that, her scene had ended up on the cutting room floor.

Her other big regret was to have just missed the part in the BBC TV series, Merlin. She’d have loved to have worked with John Hurt, but they’d said she was too pretty. Fair enough, she’d thought; the role had, after all, been for a considerably older dragon, and a male at that.

Now she was pinning her hopes on the Game of Thrones. This could be her big break!


Written in response to Sadje‘s ‘What Do You See‘ photo prompt.

And in memory of our friend, Hélène Vaillant. I’m so pleased that Sadje has revived this!