A compilation of horror, mystery, and urban fantasy short stories by Austin authors with a distinctly dark side...with Steven Metze and Mary Ann Loesch.
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All Things Writing
THE DRAGON’S TEETH
Mary Ann Loesch
The legend began about two hundred years ago.
Silas Westerbrook had tripped. If not for that small misstep, it’s entirely possible he would have simply admired the clear waters of the river that a century later would become the life blood of Westerbrook Waterpark and moved on, never knowing what a great find he had left behind. The dragon’s teeth would have remained buried in the fertile soil. Perhaps discovered by someone else entirely.
But Silas bent down to see what had caused him to stumble. He could make out two smooth, white rocks sticking out of the ground at an odd angle. He rooted in the black dirt, attempting to remove the rocks. After digging around the base of one, he felt a sharp pain in his thumb. Blood seeped from a small wound there and dribbled like syrup across the smooth white surface of the rock.
To his astonishment, the rocks vibrated, glowing a soft yellow as the blood sank into the porous stone. Even more curious now, Silas wished for a shovel. A thud off to his left distracted him, and when he turned, he discovered a small shovel in the grass. Not knowing what to make of it, he studied the tool. It would definitely do the job, but where had it come from?
It must have been there all along, he decided. He’d just…overlooked it.
Silas began to dig. A few minutes later, sweat dotted his forehead, but he’d uncovered two white rocks shaped like oversized raindrops. The points of the rocks were serrated, and he realized they must be the teeth of some long dead creature. As he ran a finger along the edge of one of the teeth, he cut himself again.
"Damn," he said, and wished for something to bandage the gushing wound.
A white cloth floated down from the sky, coming to rest on his bald head.
That’s when it dawned on Silas Westerbrook that he’d discovered something unusual. He stood there a moment, letting the salty sweat above his lip dribble into his mouth as he contemplated what to do. Instead of bandaging his bleeding hand, he gently placed the two teeth on the cloth and wrapped them up. Then he hurried down the hill toward the wagon that was a makeshift home for his family, not realizing that his ancestors would be bound by blood to a legend.