A Monster

In the deepest, darkest depths, at the bottom of a leaf-strewn cave, sequestered beneath tons and tons of piled rock through which wormy tunnels meander, can be found a dank and claustrophobia-inducing room. The air smells like a slaughterhouse, with undertones of moldering riches, and the only sounds are the vast inhalations and exhalations of a great, slumbering creature. It can be seen, dimly, basking in the wan light reflected from its burgeoning hoard, the finest treasures of a hundred kings and as many sorcerors locked up here to decay. The monster shifts slightly, vast rolls of fat and fur and scales and spines cascading across loose coins, and it begins to grumble awake. One claw toys with a favorite piece, an item of exquisite value, already beginning to disintegrate. Its jaw slips open, a long tongue lolling out like a welcome mat, as the Dragon makes its lazy introduction.


Colorful Eggshell