This I wrote about me and Gsppcrocks10. We're buddies. And this was made for fun.
I've been reading Lord of the Rings, and I think it's had a big effect on my writing. So um. Here it is. I plan on continuing this.
Also I'm not sure if I like the second half of this. So do let me know...
“Sing me a sweet song.” A strange voice. One that Morgan hadn’t heard before. Where was it coming from? What did it want? She was currently laying on the floor, though she imagined that she was on her bed at her home.
“A song of a battle, one that started many years ago, and shall not end.” The same voice. It spoke in a whisper, it frightened her, and calmed her at the same time. She had been listening to this voice whisper in the back of her mind for quite some time. She sat up, gasping for breath, and holding her chest. She looked around. The room she was in was pure black.
She stood up slowly, hesitantly. She looked around. Though she wasn’t sure where she was, or what could stand waiting for her a step away. She felt safer standing for some odd reason. She shifted her gaze downwards in an attempt to see where she would be stepping. She could only see her feet for some reason. It was mostly an outline. Her shoes were catching some kind of light. She looked upwards. She seemed to shrink an inch.
“Why did she have to get her hands on some spray paint?!” It was true. Not long before she fell asleep the previous night, her little sister, had spray painted her orange shoes hot pink. She now stood fully dressed. In hot pink shoes. She shut her eyes. She had a thought that made her feel much better.
“Thank goodness Skye isn’t here.” Her words were a faint whisper. But they seemed to wake something that was sleeping in the darkness.
There was a moan, and then a growl. Something stirred. Then there was a familiar sound. At first Morgan couldn’t place it. Then it hit her. A fresh tuxedo…
‘No, it couldn’t be…’ Her thoughts were desperate, almost as if she were begging something, someone. She remained still. She needed some light just to be sure.
Almost as if on a cue of some kind, three blindingly bright lights turned on. These were on the floor, to Morgans left. And there she saw, her fears confirmed, Skye. She moaned, the rolled over, then she covered her eyes. Then soon enough she sat up.
“Damn hippies…” She rubbed her eyes. They seemed to be smoking. She shut them tightly again. Then she opened them.
“This is the worst dream I’ve ever had, Morgan would never wear hot pink shoes.” Morgan took a step forwards. She kept her head downwards. Skye would never let her live it down. No. How would she. Morgan shook her head. Suddenly Skye didn’t seem so tired. She sprang to her feet.
“You’re wearing hot pink shoes!” Her face was in a sick, and twisted grin. She pointed at Morgan. She burst into laughter.
Morgan remained silent. She wasn’t sure what there was to add. She waited patiently for Skye to stop. Sadly the end didn’t seem to come. She just went on and on, her eyes shut, finger point. After about five minutes of it Morgan grew tired of it. She tried to speak, but Skye was laughing to loud from that. Suddenly she clutched her side and fell onto the ground.
“Ah—Ha---Ow!” Skye was still laughing, but more quietly. It sounded like her nose was plugged up.
“Are you done?” Skye’s reply was to hold up one finger. At which point she rolled on the floor in circles. Then she stood up. She grinned. Then she wiped a tear from her eye.
“Are you done?!” Morgan opened her mouth to speak. It wasn’t her that spoke though. It was a deeper, more frightening voice. Skye jumped backwards, and nearly fell over. Morgan giggled—she was still frightened though.
“W—hy are you wearing a tux?” Skye looked down at her clothes. Then she simply shrugged.
Skye looked Morgan over. She nearly started crying, and falling to the floor yet again. Morgan herself was dressed in a pink, frilly, and very girly dress. Skye chose not to speak, but her actions spoke much louder then words ever could. She covered her mouth with one hand. And had her side braced with the other.
Morgan, of course, had to look at what she was wearing. Her natural reaction was to scream.
“So much pink! Why am I wearing pink?!” She herself ran around in circles, she was in a panic. There was no worse torture then wearing pink… …in front of Skye.
“Because I put you in it! Now, be silent!” Once the words had started, Skye had stopped snickering. She was actually standing up tall her arms behind her back. She actually fixed her tie too.
“You have a mission, to save our world. Now you must hide, and therefore I give you costumes, which you must play the role of.” The voice was no longer yelling. Both Skye, and Morgan were happy to hear the end of the yelling.
After a long talk, which seemed to talk hours, with the mystery voice they learned much. The bottom line was that they would be posing as a husband, and wife, in a magical land, so that they would save that land. Skye seemed rather happy. Morgan herself didn’t like the idea of pink.
“You will both be of Fey origin.” The last words, which happened after moments of silence. Then two balls of light. One a mix of bright orange, and gold. The other was deep blue, and dark grey. When the blue one stopped in front of Skye she felt the need to speak up.
“Oi, I know you’re scary, and could kill us at will, but why do I get the dull colors?” She seemed angry. Morgan never imagined Skye could actually get so angry…
“Men don’t like bright colors.” Skye was silent. She tried to form words, but her tongue seemed to tie itself into a knot.
The bright one settled in front of Morgan, whom had wisely kept her mouth shut. It went inside her chest. She floated five feet into the air. She shut her eyes and let out a yelp of pain. She felt her body extend from her normal five feet, and seven inches, to six feet, and five inches. Then she felt two golden, and bright orange wings extend from her back. Her clothes changed too, her dress was now orange, with a gold trim. And her shoes were bright orange. Her lips, bright gold. Then she opened her eyes. They were bright orange, with no white, and no pupil. They seemed to be on fire.
Skye watched in awe as the cries stopped, and Morgan returned to the ground. She took a step away from the light. She shook her head.
“Yeah, I’ll pass, thank you though, but I’m going to be selfish, and have a lack of care for anyone but myself.” She shook her head again, she held her hands up in front of her.
“You know Skye, having magic Fey powers is pretty cool!” Skye narrowed her eyes at Morgan.
“No, that sounded painful.” Skye was much to worried, and in a panic to notice Morgan sneaking up from behind and pushing Skye towards the light.
Once Skye stumbled for balance the light went into her. Skye was also lifted into the air. She shut her eyes, awaiting the pain, that she assumed was about to befall her. Then she felt it. She screamed. She felt her limbs grow, but instead of going from five inches, five feet to six five, she went to seven eight. She felt a set of leathery wings, twenty feet when spread out, and a long powerful tail all extend from her body. Then her muzzle extended a few inches outwards, and her teeth grew sharp. Morgan watched in horror as Skye had grey scales on all her skin. Then blue scales under her chin, down to the underside of her tail.
Then she was let down. She stood upright. She pulled a monocle out of a pocket in her tuxedo.
“How do you feel Skye?”
“His name is Skyeler, Morgrant.”
“What?!” For the first time Skye actually looked at herself, well Skyeler looked at HIMself. He couldn’t believe it. And his voice, he didn’t always sound that way. He saw Morgan start to snicker.
“Well at least my name isn’t Morgrant.” Morgrant stopped. She narrowed her eyes. She looked into the eyes of her friend, whom had changed so much. They were the normal, grey-blue eyes that she always had. This was the only way that Morgrant could see this Skyeler as the Skye she knew.
She sighed, the joke being long over.
“Well what now?” Skyeler was still having a hard time coming to grips with his new voice, and gender. He was also amazed that he was of all things, a dragon. Morgrant simply shrugged.
“You shall go, and find your way. There will be help for you.” A doorway of light appeared. Skyeler covered his eyes. Morgrant squinted. Then Morgrant felt the urge to pass through the door.
“Don’t do it.” She didn’t listen. She slowly, step by step, walked towards the door. Skyeler grabbed her arm, and locked her gaze.
“We can leave this all now.” She pulled her arm free from his grip. Then she simply shook her head. A few more steps, and POOF she was gone.
Skyeler gasped. He quickly suspected some sinister magic at work. He was right. He followed her. But he didn’t walk. He flew. He liked his new wings.
