The acrid smell of smoke
Burns in his nose
The air is heavy with death
As he climbs the mountain slope
And then, right before him,
Gapes the foreboding black hole,
An invitation to come in
And meat his death.
The dirt below him crunches
As he walks up to the cave,
His heart beats faster
With each careful step.
Then, suddenly, looming above him,
A monstrous creature,
Scales, like glassy, bright stars,
Glinting in the firelight
Its breath of fire
Rattling the walls of the cave
He unsheathes his lustrous blade,
Armor shining,
He points it at the scaly throat
His cry echoes on the walls
As he lunges at the beast
It rears up, roars, and strikes,
Causing him to hesitate in shock
He turns on his heals,
With a taste of fear,
Toward the mouth of the cave.
The creature lies down
And waits for another meal
With the smell of acrid smoke.
