Desmond the Dragon

This is a story that began from 'There was a legend about the well in the garden' gleaned from the website:  
writing exercises.co.uk

Desmond the Dragon

There was a legend about the well in the garden. Sally sat quietly as her grandfather told her the story. She loved hearing his deep rumbly voice spinning the tale she knew could not possibly be true. The story was that, long ago, two identical wells had been built. No one else in the small town had two wells. Just her great-great grandfather. For people just riding through, it looked as though her ancestor was rich and powerful in the small dusty town. But the real story was that after the first well was completed and the bucket went down in the well for the first time, what was drawn from the well was not water. It was a small dragon’s egg. A great gasp went up when, just as Sally’s great-great grandfather was about to throw the egg back down the well, it began to rock back and forth.  Then cracks began forming on the shell. Tiny squawks could be heard growing louder as the egg shell fell away. The well in the garden became Desmond the dragon’s home. Sally’s great-great grandmother lined the bucket with soft wool and feathers. The little dragon was placed back in the bucket and lowered down just below the edge of the grey stony walls. Desmond grew strong, beautiful and grand. His home, the wooden bucket, became too small breaking apart as he grew. Desmond became part of Sally’s great-great grandparents family, and was welcomed each day in the town square. Children were given rides on Desmond’s broad green back, high in the sky. One day, Desmond had gone for a solitary flight but did not return. He had become painfully aware of how different he was in his family and town. If he stayed with those he loved and that loved him, he would be separate forever. There was no other dragon for him to mate with, to begin a family with, like the human families he had grown to love. And so the legend about the well in the garden and Desmond the dragon lived on in the family lore. Sally also grew beautiful, strong and grand in her own right. She would tell her children and her grandchildren the magical story. The well in the garden remained, with the beautiful wooden sign, Desmond’s name, carved deep just as it is carved in the family memory.

“Legends are best left as legends and attempts 

to make them real are rarely successful”

~ Michael Moorcock, Eric of Melniboné