Dragons!

I have in my possession a curious map. It is an old parchment of unknown origin, but renders quite accurately the neighborhood of my home, which abuts Seneca Gardens. The map is well-marked, and highly detailed, excepting a singularly darkened area labeled "Bowman's Fielde." Upon this plot of land there is nothing. The cartographer has left a great space, and written only "here be dragons." I've oft pondered the message, but until yesterday dismissed it as nothing more than local superstition.


Until last night. Just past dusk, I was returning home from my evening constitutional when I espied in the distance a fearful light. Verily, the fires of Hell seemed loosed by Lucifer himself. I hastened home and bolted the door against the terror of the night.

Some time later, after a strong drink to settle my nerves, I chanced a peek out my window. A great many of my neighbors, braver than I, were streaming toward the dragons- if dragons they were. I longed for the fortitude to join them, brave souls all, but my spirit quailed at the thought.

Shortly thereafter the battle commenced. It was a fearful commotion. Tremendous explosions rent the air, and dragon fire lit the sky with a ghastly glow. Each burst of dragon fire was answered immediately by a volley of the cannons, but eventually the townsfolk were bested. After one last great effort, a particularly intense final barrage, countered terribly by the fire-breathers, the brave warriors dispersed. Thankfully, it was an orderly retreat.



This morning I chanced a short venture out of doors. There was no sign of the dragons. I was of course elated, but did not venture far, as I could not help but wonder mightily what had become of the beasts.

Alas, the answer was soon to come. Upon my return I breakfasted heartily, but my meal was interrupted by a dreadful noise. To my wary ears it sounded like a dragon drawing breath. I shook off these thoughts, attributing them to my advanced nervousness.

But the noise came again. And again. Dragons! What's more, they seemed to be flying directly over my home. I shamefully admit that all courage left me. I ran and hid under the bed.

I eventually mastered my fears; I knew I must document the invasion, must show the world. I don't know of what dreadful deeds these monsters are capable, but perhaps my photographic evidence will help others, more fortunate than I, to learn of some weakness which will enable mankind to fend off these marauding creatures.

I took up my camera, obtained a safe vantage point, and photographed the beasts.

It turns out dragons don't look at all like I thought- I always thought they were supposed to be kind of lizardy, like big flying iguanas. But it turns out they're sort of roundish. Like lightbulbs.