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A stormy afternoon and a rock dragon in a cave…Growing up, everyone called that pile of rocks in the cave a dragon. Kid imaginations, of course. For as long as I could remember, we visited the "e;dragon,"e; played on the rocks, took refuge from the weather, hid from our parents. But once I grew up, the cave became a memory. A place I hadn't seen in years.Until a freak rain storm forces me to take cover in that very cave deep in the woods. Waiting out a storm in the chilly cavern with the rock dragon brings back lots of memories. But… I don't remember the dragon's rocks feeling warm. I don't remember that hole in the side of the dragon.I don't remember that smell.Revisiting that place of childish imagination might have been a bad idea. Author's Note: This story is also published in the collection HAUNTS AND HOWLS AND DRAGON TALES, under the title The Dragon Redistribution System.
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