Mays writing challenge prompt was ‘Dragons’, and the winner was Cheryl.

Mrs Drake

Whenever fields were scorched, sheep taken, thatched roofs left smouldering, Mrs Drake was never among those helping clear up the dragon’s mess.

She would be spotted later, sprawled in a chair in her garden, pale and drawn as if she alone had carted bucket after bucket from the stream to douse the farmer’s smoking hayrick.

Billy wondered.

He chopped wood and collected eggs for the old lady, and she gave him hotly spiced cakes and deeply red cordials in golden goblets. Then the bully who beat Billy up disappeared – all but one chewed leg found discarded on a scorched forest path.

Mrs Drake was not among the horrified villagers.

Billy’s excitement burned his lungs. ‘Are you our dragon?’ He gulped red cordial.

Mrs Drake tapped the goblet with claw-like nails. ‘Dragons?’ Her eyes sparked.

Billy and Mrs Drake found the idea so hilarious they both roared gobbets of fire.