First published November 9th, 2005.
Alfred sat up and, with a trembling hand, brushed back his stringy, shoulder-length hair. What now? His head pounded like after a long night of drinking at the tavern.
Eyes widening, he slowly looked about, taking in the landscape. Such an odd-looking potato field: the harvest windrowed into piles and stretching out as far as he could see. He didn’t recognize this place at all. A pungent smell was in the air, almost like potatoes mixed with fire. Maybe there was a castle or town nearby.
The crazy old man had been right all along, forcing Alfred to prepare and sacrifice. All of those years had not been for nothing. All of the memorizing, repeating, learning would finally serve a purpose. It would.
Hearing a dreadful noise, Alfred jumped to his feet and spun around. A monstrous beast, breathing fire, slowly charged towards him. His instinctive training prompted him to act but he couldn’t decide what to do. The blood drained from his head leaving his plump face chalk-white.
He turned and ran.
His lungs burned; his side hurt; his belly bounced painfully. He had to stop. He dropped on his face between two potato rows. Hopefully the beast would settle for a wild dog and leave him alone. He could still hear it closing in on him. He rapidly sucked precious air into his weary, overworked lungs.
In a few more minutes it would be able to see him. It was time to make a stand. He pictured the old man – his owner, and felt a righteous anger come over him. His meaty fingers clenched together, his wide shoulders tightened. He took one more deep breath, ungracefully leapt to his feet, and turned to face the monstrosity. Laying eyes on its ugliness, his fear returned like an overwhelming army and his resolve nearly evaded him.
He shakily began blurting out an incantation, while digging in his robe for a few reagents. Alas, his pockets were empty. The monster was drawing near, continuing its fiery advance. He noticed a smaller dragon beside it, obviously its famished offspring. The mother fed it potatoes as they approached him. He never heard of dragons eating potatoes. Starvation must be near. He must outlast them. He ran.
He cursed the beast for choosing him; He cursed the old man for putting him into this position of failure; he cursed himself for being so careless with the reagents. His feet were sore and his lungs felt like they might burst. He had to stop. He fell to the soil once again and tried to hide. The beast growled and hissed, then it stopped and stared at him, obviously a bit winded itself.
Alfred couldn’t take it any longer. Closing his eyes, he tried not to anticipate the killing blow, but he knew it was coming. His body went limp and vanished.
The boy jumped out of the harvester and walked over to the potato truck where his co-worker was waiting. He brushed off his pants and then climbed in the passenger side.
“Who was that nut in the dress?”
“No idea -- Maybe a Mormon.”
“What a freakin idiot.”
“Yep.”
Stephen Hansen was born in Ashtabula, Ohio in 1981. The second oldest of eight kids he was home schooled by his parents. Stephen joined the United States Air Force when he turned 18, seeking adventure and change. He is now stationed in Japan where he pursues writing as a hobby.
Archived: http://girlswithinsurance.com/index.php/relics/43-prose/135-1105-encounter & shortlinked: http://frsh.in/6s
