The last instalment of Janet’s story. You can start here to read from the beginning.
Janet held her sword before her, going over all the moves she’d practised under the willow tree against the monsters sent by the Goblin king. Her heart boomed in her chest, yet her hands were steady, her eyes focused on the back of the great green monster.
Fairy flew swiftly ahead, reached the giant, and dive-bombed him from above. He growled a deep growl which vibrated through the cave and lifted his arm to swipe about the annoyance. That distraction was all Pixie needed to clamber up the stone thrones and slip between the iron bars of the king’s cage. He shook the king who opened his eyes, muttering – until he saw the giant, still flailing at Fairy.
He looked surprised and said, ‘By all the dragons!’ The king jumped to his feet. ‘My dear-‘ He caught sight of the queen, stirring under Pixie’s urgent shaking of her shoulder.
‘Quick, quick, wake up,’ Pixie called, glancing through the bars at the giant.
But the giant was now distracted not only by Fairy, but also Janet poking at his knees with her sword, dancing about. The giant growled again and bent to swat her. As his great green hands lifted above Janet’s head, Dragon breathed fire on them.
The giant screeched a high pitched screech which rang in Janet’s ears. She jabbed again at the giant’s knees and was rewarded with another yowl. The giant danced sideways, away from the front of the stone chairs and the cages. Dragon turned his fire on the locks. With one hearty gust, they melted into iron pools. Pixie swung one door open, Fairy had the other.
The king and queen ran out. They halted at the edge of the thrones. It was a long drop to hard floor. While Janet continued to harass the giant’s legs, Dragon lowered his neck in front of the chairs. The king and queen slid on, held tight. Pixie jumped on too.
Dragon lifted his head. He drew in a great breath. Janet knew that sign. She fled from the giant, running to Dragon’s tail. The giant peered around, searching for his small assailant.
Instead, he came face to face with Dragon, who let out the great breath he was holding in. Tongues of fire swathed the green giant. In a puff of Dragon smoke, the giant was nothing but a great pile of ashes on the rocky floor.
‘Hurrah,’ Pixie called, dancing on Dragon’s neck, hugging the king and queen.
Janet leaned against Dragon’s tail, panting, her limbs tingling with excitement at vanquishing the green giant. Until she realised –
‘Where are all the people?’ she asked her parents when the joyful reunion was over.
‘Are they not at the castle?’ the queen said, a frown creasing her smooth forehead.
Fairy landed gently on Janet’s shoulder. ‘I think we’ll find them there,’ she said. ‘Now the green giant’s wicked spell is broken, they will be there again, safe and well.’
Pixie nodded his agreement, and Janet had to be satisfied for now.
They left the cave, and flew on Dragon towards the castle. In the forest, the watchful eyes resolved themselves into fairies and pixies, clapping, laughing, and dancing in the air around Janet and her companions, calling, Thank you, thank you!
Janet smiled and waved, and found she was very weary. It seemed much further back to the castle than it had coming from it to the giant’s cave. Her eyes grew heavy, tired after all she had been through. Safe now, she snuggled into Dragon’s warm neck and let her eyelids close.
‘Janet! I should have known you’d be here. Come inside, it’s far too cold and snowy to be falling asleep outside.’
Janet’s heavy eyelids opened. Her bones were stiff, cold. She looked into her father’s worried face and blinked. Not the king, her father. Her other father. The one in the real world – the imaginary world – the other world, anyway.
He picked her up to carry her from her hiding place, laughing that she was really too big to be carried now, and Janet heard a soft rustle as her paper crown fell to the leaf-littered floor under the willow. Something long and slim briefly glimmered grey among the leaves, and then was gone.
‘Dragon?’ she murmured, searching for her friends.
‘No dragons here.’ Her father laughed. ‘Although…’ He tipped his head towards the tangled roots of the tree. ‘Those roots, just there, they look awfully like some sort of goblin king. Can you see him, Janet?’
Janet stared, her heart cold. For try as she might, all Janet could see were gnarled roots.
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HE LOOKED SURPRISED AND SAID….
Brett Anderson was a keen gardener and each year competed in the village flower show.
His specialty was roses – particularly those with a deep, intoxicatingly red colour.
Brett took great pride in his roses, the deeper the colour, the greater the feeling of joy.
Others, visitors and entrants alike, always appreciated Brett’s efforts and he invariably won most of the major prizes awarded, including for his specific category and the overall show stopper.
This had been a fait accompli for more than 20 years and none of the other entrants ever expected to topple Brett once his green thumb began seriously working.
No one seemed to mind, however, as they all took pleasure in admiring his stalwart efforts.
This year had begun in similar fashion to previous shows.
Brett had pruned his rose bushes in plenty for time for the new growth with flowers timed to be at their healthiest and most visually appealing as the show day approached.
However, the day before showing an appalling storm almost destroyed the village, with the nearby river overflowing its banks and flooding many of the buildings and homes.
When the storm hit, Brett was out of town visiting a sick aunt some hundred miles away, but had planned to return in plenty of time to harvest his roses ready for display.
Neighbours tried without success to protect his prize possessions and could only watch in dismay as, one after another, each rose bush was totally stripped of its precious cargo.
Nobody was game to ring Brett and tell him about the disaster awaiting his return.
When his train pulled into the station the next day, as he gazed out the window Brett looked surprised and said “what’s happened – it looks like a bomb has been dropped on the village!!”
Some of his friends and fellow show entrants were there to greet him.
“I’m afraid we have terrible news,” they said. “This dreadful storm caused massive flash flooding and many of our buildings and homes have been inundated.
“And your prize roses have all been destroyed.”
Brett allowed his friends to accompany him to his home which fortunately had escaped being flooded.
However, there before him were the ruins of his precious rose bushes with petals strewn all around the front garden.
No one could blame Brett for being angry at his dastardly loss.
Instead, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully and enthused:
“Ah well, this will give me an even bigger challenge for next year,” he said, a smile lighting his countenance.
And someone else a chance to win for once!
Indeed. Although I wonder if they were able to hold the flower show after such a storm
You mean his weren’t the only roses destroyed? Oh dear!
Great story. i think the giant should have worn a fireproof suit or something if dragons are his Achilles heel. LOL
Suspect he wasn’t expecting a dragon!