Rebirth | The Last Krystallos

A Spring tale of rebirth for J.A.Mes Press Rebirth Anthology. All proceeds will go to a UK Stroke Charity.

Spring Symphony

Spring Symphony © Lisa Shambrook

Spring shivered in delight as Jack’s intoxicating cloud of glitter eddied about her. She stared in awe at his ethereal design, an ice tattoo, shimmering like frozen lace across her scales. “Stay a little longer…” she begged, her work forgotten as she trembled beneath the newly painted webs of frost and feathers of rime that now patterned her violet wings. The cold wind whispered in her ear, but she snubbed the wind’s wise words, snorted and called after the playful pixie instead, “Wait! Wait for me!”

Jack grinned and ran his fingers through his silver hair, eyeing the dragon with amusement. He hopped up onto her back, over her spines and nestled between her vast wings. She launched into the air leaving a sparkling trail in her wake. She rose above shimmering trees, above the deep evergreens and ascended into fluffy clouds. She climbed until the air sent thrilling chills across her hide and her eyes shone as adrenalin pumped. Jack whooped and wrapped his arms around her neck and frost danced across her rainbow scales. For the first time in a long time, Spring felt more invigorated than ever before.

…

This is a preview to the story that can be found within A Symphony of Dragons. It has become one part of my symphony, a composition, of A Symphony of Seasons… You can find this enchanting book of short stories in many outlets in both paperback and eBook or at my publisher BHC Press.

Read previews to Autumn’s and Winter’s tales: Autumn Flame and Winter Hope.

Day Four of 12 Days of Christmas: and the gift is Rebirth:

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)

Rebirth

He was tired and his mind never stopped. Three years trying to keep his head above water in these times of recession had cost him dear. The business drained him, in a way he’d never have predicted all those years ago when he’d stood on the doorstep with Liz. The pride in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks had excited him as much as their new venture had, but now the light had faded behind her brown eyes, and the best part of his day was closing his own when his head hit his pillow.

He barely noticed Liz, he was too tired.

He didn’t notice his favourite meal on the table he was too busy calculating profits and losses. He never saw her longing eyes, and he never felt the stroke of her hand on his as he slept. He ignored her needs, because his were satisfied. He had no idea that his mother received flowers on her birthday, but he smiled when she thanked him for her gift.

He waved Liz away when she hugged him, no time for that, and her lips caught his hair as he rushed out of the door.

He ignored her when she begged him to cut his losses, and he sneered when she told him they’d be happy poor.

He didn’t notice when her eyes lit up again, or when her new dress fit her curves to perfection. He didn’t even notice the new scent on her pulse, or those heels. He never saw her new hair, or the blush-red lipstick, he was too busy stretching for his out-of-reach mobile phone as he lay on the floor holding his arm and clutching his chest.

As he ended, she was reborn and he never saw his butterfly unfurl her glorious wings.

(300 Words)