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Saturday, July 08, 2006

Ian Abrams' Story

For those of you who do not know, Ian Thomas Abrams is my son,
six years old - This story he told me on the banks of the mountain river, I wrote it down, so here goes:

Story by Ian Thomas Abrams, arranged by Avi Abrams

The rocky cliffs flanking the lively, swift river were home to slim wonderful dragons, who dwelt at day inside the cracks of the cliffs. They were mostly dormant during the day, but at night...

The river swelled with deep water and large glass fish ponderously swam there, turning in the moonlight like a large glass bubbles. The dragons would come out to play, and their shrill cries would make the glass fish explode from time to time - the crystal shards rising over the river and settling over the rocks and among roots of the trees.

Then some interesting transformation will happen to the tree roots. They will turn into glass as well, and will start to climb up the rocks like an intricate crystal lacework. The tips of the roots would sparkle different colors, hiding inside numerous gems and rubies - and slowly the trees flanking the river will turn into delicate glass structures, from the roots up. The cliff dragons would then come out and happily swing and frolic over the night glimmering river.

They had enemies, too - the bad dragons dwelt in the nearby sandy cliffs, uncertain in shape, shifting in color and quite unpredictable. Rock cliff dragons would lure them into the emerald crystal caves, hiding there and blending skillfully with the walls. Sand dragons would come, attracted by the hot magma waterfall, which streams from the crystal roof of a cavern. Then the good dragons will make their move, pushing the bad ones into magma, turning them to slag. Outside the caves the crystal forest would shimmer and sigh in the light of the full moon.

Sometimes the pieces of the exploded crystals fish would fall over the river rocks, and they would start to shine in turn; and people would call them "Fire Rocks", unusual in color and shape at the river. When the morning comes, the sand and rock dragons would disappear from sight, the forest glass will melt back into green, and only the "fire rocks" will continue tp astonish the careful traveller with their strange appearance.

@ July, 2006 - at the Ghost River in the Devil's Head Country, Rocky Mountain Foothills log cabin.

(Click to enlarge the image)


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