Last week, we left our hero after he (she?) escaped from the wizard’s cage. Now we’ll see how well a cockatrice can handle an old man with magic.
Lightning flashed outside the window. Rain battered the glass. Thunder rumbled. Lightning illuminated the room. Apparently, storms flare up quickly wherever Monty’s hideout hides.
The door to the wizard’s bedroom stood ajar.
The cockatrice tilted its head and studied the doorway. Darkness wrapped the room in deep shadows.
The floor creaked.
The cockatrice leapt, flapping its wings, and flipped upside-down to dig its claws into the wooden rafters.
Monty entered the room.
The cockatrice clacked its beak.
Monty studied the empty cage and growled. “Damn beast. Where’d you go?”
The cockatrice shoved itself away from the wall and folded its wings against its back as it dove. It stretched its claws toward the back of Monty’s left ear. Razor sharp talons scratched the old man’s skin. Blood trickled from the small scrapes.
“Mother of dragons!” Monty clapped a hand to his ear. He spun to face the cockatrice. “Bugger off.”
The cockatrice hissed.
Monty pointed a finger at the cockatrice. “Cade!” A bolt of green shot from the tip of his finger and raced through the sky.
The cockatrice rolled to the right, through the air, dodging the spell.
“Adstringe!” The wizard pointed his palm toward the cockatrice.
The rooster-headed dragon dipped beneath the sky blue orb that flew toward it. The cockatrice dove toward Monty, once more its claws flashed.
Monty dropped to the ground, clutched his face.
The cockatrice landed on top of its cage. Two contacts dropped from its talons onto the cage floor.
Monty scrambled to his feet, reaching out, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’ll kill you.”
The cockatrice warbled.
Monty stumbled into the table. His eyes opened as his glared at the piece of furniture.
The cockatrice dropped onto the tabletop and met Monty’s eyes.
A look of panic froze on the wizard’s face.
The cockatrice nodded. It leapt over Monty and flew toward the window. It tapped its beak against the glass.
Thunder rumbled outside.
The cockatrice studied the window latch. Gripping the latch in its beak, the cockatrice unlocked the window. It shoved hard against the glass. The window fell open. The cockatrice flopped onto the glass and rolled. It plopped into the mud.
Soggy and exhausted, the cockatrice huddled beneath the shelter of the open window, not knowing where its boy was, but promising to rescue the kid no matter what.
So, what do you think will happen? What do you want to happen? Was it too short? Too long? Too unfunny?
Yep, that’s right. I’m soliciting comments and suggestions. I may even use them. No matter how wacky, zany, nerdy, or weird. No matter how serious, fanciful, or sci-fi. It’s a choose your own adventure. You choose what happens next.