The Unwanted
I'm going to tell you a story. A story that most people would find rather horrifying, but I can assure you, this tale is more depressing rather than frightening.
This is the tale of a young dragon named Chester. His scales were black and white; his eyes were silvery gray; he had six horns that were curved upward; his claws and talons were jagged; his teeth were black and sharp; he had a blank expression; wings too small to help him fly, and a tail too big for his age. No one knew if he was a hybrid or not, they could never tell. He didn't have the durability like a NightWing, nor did he have the personality of an IceWing. So no one knew what kind of dragon he was - maybe that was the reason why he was unwelcome to the world.
Chester lived on the earth on a continent called Pyrrhia for seven years, but sadly did not go well for the poor dragonet. Maybe his life was hard because he never had a home, or friends, or never knowing any family members or brothers or sisters.
You see, when he was hatched, he woke up in the middle of a forest. The leaves blocked the beams of the sun, emanating nothing but shadows down on the little dragonet. In confusion, he slowly reached his arm out and felt the grass - it was spiky and hurt his palm, it always did. Chester walked out of his egg, feeling and sniffing the cold air - it was always cold. Due to his rumbling stomach, he set out to find some food.
He came across a bear, who he saw as a friend, but the bear did not feel the same way. Instead it attacked him. Being a newborn dragonet and not knowing about the dangers of the world, or having any knowledge of how to fight, he was beaten. The bear clawed at him for hours, but soon saw that it could not kill its prey, so it gave up and left. Chester lay bleeding on the ground, tears shredding down his face. He tried to get up, but he was in too much pain, so he lay there some more, and more . . . and more.
A week went by and all the blood had dried, and Chester still lay there on the ground. He had stopped crying three days ago, and now he knew it was time to get up and walk. He pressed his hands on the ground, and picked himself up, and continued to walk, fighting back pain until he felt none. He came across a pond, and cleaned himself up in it. Except, when he came out of the pond he was covered in leeches. It took Chester about an hour to get them off, and by the time he did he felt light headed. He managed to fly out of the forest and out into the real world before he fell out of the sky and fainted.
Two years went by and the world still fought against him. It seemed to Chester everyday was worse than the previous. He would always find himself either getting into a fight, or would receive countless scratches from everything he touched - everything was a danger to him - every food would even put him in jeopardy. All foods he ate and water he drank he would find poisonous, yet not enough to kill him, but enough to make him incredibly weak. He would lie on the ground for hours shaking in agony from the intoxication, and it was nearly impossible to catch prey. So he promised himself to not eat another piece of food or drink water again. Since he's a dragon, he can live without the resources for a long time.
Three years went by and around this time Chester had the appearance similar to a ghost. His eyes were sullen and his bones were seen because of how thin he was, his throat looked too small for his head, and his voice was so hoarse he stopped speaking - even breathing would hurt his throat. He only spoke one word, and that word became his name. In a scarce voice, filled with death he would constantly say: "Chssstr . . . Chssstr . . . Chssstr . . . ."
Chester walked through the hot, incinerating winds of the SandWing Kingdom, trying to get somewhere to cool off before passing out for the eighth time. Eventually, he came across a SandWing, who flew down towards him. The SandWing, being much bigger and stronger than Chester was, began to taunt him about how he looked and didn't talk, saying "a dragon like him couldn't even get a family or wealthy person to buy him if he was up for auction." Soon the SandWing started to abuse him, push him down and punch him. Chester was weak, no food or water forced him to stay down. The SandWing laughed and spat on him, but Chester ignored them and kept his mind on food, water, food, water, food, water, food, water, FOOD, WATER, FOOD, WATER.
He looked up at the SandWing, and something inside him snapped like a twig. It all happened so fast, so sudden, and so unexpected. Chester lunged on top of the SandWing, digging his jagged claws into his scales. He was so hungry, so thirsty, he couldn't take the suffering anymore, so he opened his mouth, and sank his teeth into the SandWing's throat . . . and began to eat him. An hour went by, and only bones lay in the sand.
Chester felt satisfied. He was still freakishly thin, but his hunger and thirst were finally content. Everything else that was edible was a threat to him, all the animals he found were full of disease, and all the water he drank was contagious, but the carcass of his own species was not, so in order for him to survive . . . he should eat them. What had they ever done for him? Nothing. Have they ever given him a home? No. Have they taken the liberty of making friends with him? No. Have they given him food? . . . Yes. Have they given him water? . . . Yes. If that is so, then Chester shouldn't feel remorse for them, and he must have more to eat and drink . . . now.
Another year went by and Chester decided to move into the mountains of the SkyWing Kingdom. He built his home in a very remote place, so no one could find him and kick him out or kill him. His home was made up of fallen trees and twigs leaning together to keep the structure standing, and was surrounded by plantation, blocking the sun from his location, shining only darkness down upon him all day everyday.
Chester had acquired some "food" and "water" when he was traveling to the mountains, except the resources were hard to come by, or capture since he was so weak. He kept telling himself to go out and get it, but knew if he did he might die. Most days Chester would go out and find some "food." Most of the time he would find some, but were always too far away to obtain them, and would go home empty handed - which was often.
One day, when Chester was lying outside his house hugging himself to protect his body from the cold, his ears perked up when voices were heard. He slowly lifted his head to listen more closely, and realized they were close by . . . very close by. Upon the realization, he jumped up and ran out of his house towards the sound. He knew he had to be quiet. If they heard him, they would run away. . . . Chester can't have that happen, he had to eat, now.
He found the source of the voices: Two SkyWings, and both were dragonets - which would be more easier for him to catch. They were very young; one of them didn't have his horns fully grown on. Maybe they were lost. The SkyWings walked and argued about something - Chester couldn't tell, or even cared for that matter. The only thing that mattered to him was their scales and blood, the findings of food and water discovered at last. Chester hid behind the trees, following close behind the dragonets, his mouth drooling with every glance at them, knowing his hunger and thirst would soon be satisfied for the rest of the day, or maybe the week. He was very excited, his breathing became panting, but reminded himself to be quiet. He didn't want his meals to run away, he couldn't waste this opportunity to eat - unlike previous attempts.
One of the dragonets suddenly tripped, and Chester immediately stopped, his eyes widening with surprise. The other dragonet helped him up, and made sure her companion was alright. Now it was time. Chester slowly edged his way towards them until he was right next to the two, then with a bloodcurdling, hoarse roar he lunged at them, going for the oldest one first. He sank his teeth deep into his victim's scales, enjoying the taste of food once again. The other SkyWing screamed in utter horror, and Chester turned his head towards him, his mouth covered in blood staring viciously at the dragonet. The SkyWing turned to run, but Chester jumped at him and sank his teeth into the young dragon's back, then ripping his mouth away, taking the spine with him.
Chester spent the rest of the day eating the two dragonets. He would eat the scales, muscles, and organs quickly, but drank the blood slowly to savor the moment. Night fell, and Chester walked back to his home with a smile on his face. Although he didn't know what a smile was, the feeling was good. He went into his house, and slept peacefully for a very long time.
Three more years. Chester had only one meal a month, sometimes a meal every two months, then three, then four, then he went a year without any. He couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take the pain anymore. The growling of his stomach, the hoarse breathing in his throat, he had enough of it. Chester picked himself up on his weak limbs, and walked out of his house, beginning his search. He walked on for weeks without finding any food. He would find some, but they were always high in the sky where he couldn't reach them; his wings were never any use to him. Occasionally, he would come across some dragons on the ground, and would take his chance and eat them, savoring every bite. But no matter how much he ate, his hunger and thirst were never satisfied. He needed more, and more NOW.
An hour had gone by, and soon he entered a mountain pass. The sky was cloudy, but not dark enough for it to rain, but some dark clouds were visible in the distance. Chester limped his way forward, weak and panting, his stomach hurt and he put his arm on his side, but did little to push back the agony.
When finding food and water seemed hopeless, Chester suddenly heard whistling up ahead. He immediately stopped when he heard the sound, and listened closely. The song was a beautiful tune, but that didn't matter to Chester, the only thing that mattered is that it was food. He slowly started walking towards the sound, and soon enough, he found the source: It was a young RainWing dragonet, her scales were yellow and purplish pink. She was just taking a stroll down the mountain side, minding her own business and enjoying life - a perfect catch.
Chester knew he couldn't be seen, so he hid behind the stalagmites against the rocky wall, making sure to be as quiet as possible. Chester pressed himself lower to the ground, eyeing the dragonet with wide hungry eyes. The RainWing walked ever so close to him, unaware of his presence, and when he was right next to her, he pounced.
The RainWing screamed and tried to get away, but Chester held her down, digging his claws into her shoulders and opening his mouth to feast. But before he could get a chance to eat, the dragonet opened her mouth and shot some kind of poison from her teeth that splattered onto Chester's face. He screamed hoarsely and in pain, backing away from her, his hands covering his face.
The young dragon took her chance and flew away, but Chester heard her and ran after his prey, following the dragonet up the side of the mountain, using his claws to help him climb. They reached the top of the mountain side, and Chester lunged for the kill, grabbing the RainWing by the legs and clawing at her. The dragonet screamed and looked down at him, and saw his disfigured, ugly face, his scales burned and melting off his skull.
Chester gowled in all his rage. The girl was only a dragonet, and she couldn't keep herself suspended in the air, and they were slowly falling to the ground. Chester opened his mouth to strike, but the RainWing took a deep breath, and blasted a surge of poison, straight into his mouth. Chester screamed in utter agony. He couldn't keep his grip anymore, and he let go.
Screams echoed throughout the valley as Chester fell. His wings were no use to him, so he was falling to his death. His body reached the stalagmites, and fell on top of them. The spiky rocks went through his legs, arms, wings, tail, torso, neck, and the side of his head. The RainWing, having been attacked and almost killed by someone, immediately turned and flew to safety.
Chester lay on the ground, barely alive and bleeding. He felt complete pain run through his body. Every part of him hurt, and the last thing he felt was the raindrops falling down on him.
Although Chester did horrible, awful things in his life, please do not hate him for what he did. Chester was a dragon who did not deserve to go down the path he ended up walking on. An unwanted child that did not deserve to become the monster he had turned into. You may mourn for him, but I would suggest you don't. Not because of what he did was utterly wrong, but because of the thing that turned him into a monster: The world itself. Mourn for the world that turned out to be so cruel in his and our eyes. Mourn for the earth that he was born on, for it may never change its actions. For the truth is: The dog is not the killer, it is its master that is the real monster. Chester was the dog, and the world was the real true monster. For the poor dragon . . . was unwanted by the world itself.
