THE LAST OF HIS KIND
Naughty
Fairy Tales
Doris O’Connor
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
"Stay
away from the
Loch
. You know it's not
safe."
The familiar
refrain reached him in the cold depths of his watery world, and Doric flicked
his scaly tail in annoyance. He smiled grimly, showing razor sharp rows of
teeth. Humans had told the tales of the monsters in the
Loch
for as long as he could remember. Little did they know that his kind were
protectors. Not that it had done them much good. Hunted to extinction by the very
beings that lived within them, he was the last of his kind, and cursed at that.
Like
countless children before her, this little girl took no heed of her mother. She
skipped along the path and across the rocky outcrop that stretched into the
Loch
with the complete lack of any sense of danger
inherent only in the young of any species.
"Ring
around the roses, a pocket full of posies, ah tissue, ah tissue we all fall
down." She flung herself on the ground in an enthusiastic re-enactment of
the nursery rhyme, and rolled off the edge with a screech and a splash. With a
flick of his tail he reached her. He couldn't let an innocent drown, no matter
how much he hated their kind. The scrawny little human clung to his neck and
took a huge gulp of air when he nudged her above the icy waters of the
Loch
. He readied himself for the screams of terror the
minute he deposited his slight cargo on the pebbly beach.
Screams that
never came. Instead the sodden, shivering, little bundle of humanity put out a
trembling hand, touched his nuzzle and smiled. Eyes the color of melted
chocolate connected with his, and she pushed her hideous plastic glasses back
up onto her little freckled nose. Stunned into disbelief he nudged her again up
the path towards the cottage and dove back into the
Loch
.
Humans could
not be trusted, he knew that only too well, yet still he couldn't keep away.
Every summer he came back to this side of the
Loch
and waited. That little girl grew into a shy, plump teenager, and eventually a
beautiful, just as shy, young woman. Ten years had passed since. Ten years
during which the cottage at the
Loch
fell into
disrepair, and he'd given up hope of ever seeing her again. Ten years during
which he'd tried to break the curse on numerous occasions, to no avail. Not one
of the many women whose beds he'd charmed himself into, reached that cold place
inside his heart. They accepted the man all too eagerly, but he wouldn't trust
any of them with his true nature. The one time he had, centuries ago now, the
girl had run away screaming rape. It had cost him the live of his brothers and
had chained him to the
Loch
forever.
Pain sliced
through him, just as fresh as it had been then, when he had found Arac's and
Morin's skinned and beheaded remains. He had roared his pain to the heavens,
swearing revenge that he knew he could never enact. The witch's curse meant he
needed acceptance from the very species who spelled his doom, forever condemned
to swim in the waters of the Loch, forever alone, forced to seek his pleasures
in human form.
No, he would
never trust a human, no matter how much the pain in her chocolate brown eyes
called to him. Yet he couldn't stop watching the woman on the shore either.
****
Penelope
breathed in the clear, crisp air and shut her eyes, letting the gentle lapping
of the
Loch
's waves wash over her. This is why she'd come back to
Scotland
,
and the one place she'd always felt safe. She knew the tales of monsters were
mere stories told to frighten the children. She'd never forgotten the day she
almost drowned, the day she was saved by a scaly being from the deep, its scary
appearance in direct contrast to the kindness in its mesmerizing golden eyes.
She had never seen that strange being again, and in time she'd started to
wonder whether the whole thing had been a figment of her childish imagination.
Yet, still,
she felt drawn to the
Loch
. Her mother's
Naughty
Fairy Tales
Doris O’Connor
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
"Stay
away from the
Loch
. You know it's not
safe."
The familiar
refrain reached him in the cold depths of his watery world, and Doric flicked
his scaly tail in annoyance. He smiled grimly, showing razor sharp rows of
teeth. Humans had told the tales of the monsters in the
Loch
for as long as he could remember. Little did they know that his kind were
protectors. Not that it had done them much good. Hunted to extinction by the very
beings that lived within them, he was the last of his kind, and cursed at that.
Like
countless children before her, this little girl took no heed of her mother. She
skipped along the path and across the rocky outcrop that stretched into the
Loch
with the complete lack of any sense of danger
inherent only in the young of any species.
"Ring
around the roses, a pocket full of posies, ah tissue, ah tissue we all fall
down." She flung herself on the ground in an enthusiastic re-enactment of
the nursery rhyme, and rolled off the edge with a screech and a splash. With a
flick of his tail he reached her. He couldn't let an innocent drown, no matter
how much he hated their kind. The scrawny little human clung to his neck and
took a huge gulp of air when he nudged her above the icy waters of the
Loch
. He readied himself for the screams of terror the
minute he deposited his slight cargo on the pebbly beach.
Screams that
never came. Instead the sodden, shivering, little bundle of humanity put out a
trembling hand, touched his nuzzle and smiled. Eyes the color of melted
chocolate connected with his, and she pushed her hideous plastic glasses back
up onto her little freckled nose. Stunned into disbelief he nudged her again up
the path towards the cottage and dove back into the
Loch
.
Humans could
not be trusted, he knew that only too well, yet still he couldn't keep away.
Every summer he came back to this side of the
Loch
and waited. That little girl grew into a shy, plump teenager, and eventually a
beautiful, just as shy, young woman. Ten years had passed since. Ten years
during which the cottage at the
Loch
fell into
disrepair, and he'd given up hope of ever seeing her again. Ten years during
which he'd tried to break the curse on numerous occasions, to no avail. Not one
of the many women whose beds he'd charmed himself into, reached that cold place
inside his heart. They accepted the man all too eagerly, but he wouldn't trust
any of them with his true nature. The one time he had, centuries ago now, the
girl had run away screaming rape. It had cost him the live of his brothers and
had chained him to the
Loch
forever.
Pain sliced
through him, just as fresh as it had been then, when he had found Arac's and
Morin's skinned and beheaded remains. He had roared his pain to the heavens,
swearing revenge that he knew he could never enact. The witch's curse meant he
needed acceptance from the very species who spelled his doom, forever condemned
to swim in the waters of the Loch, forever alone, forced to seek his pleasures
in human form.
No, he would
never trust a human, no matter how much the pain in her chocolate brown eyes
called to him. Yet he couldn't stop watching the woman on the shore either.
****
Penelope
breathed in the clear, crisp air and shut her eyes, letting the gentle lapping
of the
Loch
's waves wash over her. This is why she'd come back to
Scotland
,
and the one place she'd always felt safe. She knew the tales of monsters were
mere stories told to frighten the children. She'd never forgotten the day she
almost drowned, the day she was saved by a scaly being from the deep, its scary
appearance in direct contrast to the kindness in its mesmerizing golden eyes.
She had never seen that strange being again, and in time she'd started to
wonder whether the whole thing had been a figment of her childish imagination.
Yet, still,
she felt drawn to the
Loch
. Her mother's
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