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“Rescue from a Tree”

By W.R. Miller

The sky flashed, and cracked with thunder.

Standing on the porch of her grandma’s mountain cabin, fourteen-year-old Nita Parks anxiously waited for help. The porch’s overhang did little to protect her from the rain, as the howling wind blew it in from the side, soaking her skin and denim overalls. She didn’t care. She had to be outside. A life was at stake.

From overhead came heavy flapping sounds, and a large scaly beast appeared, clad in golden helmet and armor, wings and tail thrashing, claws outstretched. He splashed down upon the muddy driveway, his eyes glowing at Nita through an obsidian mask. At last. The Justice Dragon had arrived.

“This way!” Nita called out. She ran to the back of the cabin, where an oak had fallen across the back. “It’s Grandma. She’s trapped in the basement. That’s the only way in or out.”

The super-saurian nodded, grabbed the trunk, and with hardly any effort, heaved it aside with a crash. The basement door, now uncovered, cracked open. An elderly woman stepped out, but when she saw the monstrous beast, she jumped back inside and slammed the door.

The dragon sighed. “Typical,” he said in his husky baritone voice. He cupped his wings over Nita that, at least for the moment, sheltered her from the rain. “A pox upon storms and their lightning. They make life so inconvenient. Now, best you go inside and dry yourself.”

“I will. Thank you,” Nita called out as the dragon took wing and in an instant, flashed away with the crack of a sonic boom.

Nita opened the basement door. “It’s OK, Grandma. He’s gone.”

Grandma, her eyes wider than her glasses, gasped, “What was that thing?”

Nita looked skyward with an enormous smile. “That,” she said, “was the Justice Dragon.”


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