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He was walking down Old Bond Street watching them and they were watching him. He could feel and knew that they had been keeping a close eye on him for quite a while now. They had found out somehow. The authorities did not allow people like him to exist. His life was not wanted. And now he wouldn’t live for long. They considered people like him dangerous and there was danger within him but he could control it, restrain it. But they still saw him as too great a risk to exist. People like him had to be watched and then killed before their true colours would show. He turned right. He wanted to head towards Green Park, get rid of them, maybe hide somewhere by the trees but that was a stupid idea. He knew there was no running away from the authorities. They feared him even more than they thought him to be dangerous. Their survival depended on his death. He was not like them. He saw the world in a different light, disagreed with their ways. But he was alone. If he unleashed his powers, he would never be the same. He hurried along Piccadilly Street. They were still behind him. Following him quicker with every step he made. He walked through the gates of Green Park and walked on faster. He started to sweat and was out of breath. In this condition it was more difficult to control himself. If he wasn’t careful he would break and destroy everything. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Nothing would happen. He meant no harm. They were simply terrified, not realising what they could unleash.

Suddenly, a heavily armed police man stopped further down the path in the park, faced him and raised a machine gun. Another one appeared behind the trees, then another and then he was surrounded by a guard of them facing him. They were wearing gas masks afraid something might explode or smoke would kill them before the fire did. They knew people like him. They saw him as a danger to society. They were certain that he had to be stopped and contained before he would do something that could not be taken back.

The man was all alone now. Surrounded by soldiers ready to kill. Any people in the park had hurried away. They had realised what the soldiers would do next but were even more afraid of what could happen.

The man looked up. This was the last time he would see the sunlight and the blue sky. There was not a single cloud. It would have been a perfect summer day in London. If only they had not found out. He knew their fear was the greatest danger. For them the word different meant dangerous. He would have never hurt any of them. But what would happen next he could not control. He looked at the armed men in front of him again. One of the soldiers was shaking. He was so afraid of him. His machine gun was trembling in his hands.  Then he shot. The terrified man had shot him in the leg. He dropped to the ground. One of the officers screamed to hold the fire. The wounded man pressed his hand on his bleeding leg. Hot blood dripped onto the earth and burned the grass away. The blood was already hotter than lava. It was their fault not his own. They would never accept him the way he was. They had dug their own grave. If they only had left him alone! The entire city would burn now. He had no control over it anymore. He could sense the fire rising within him. He let go.

 One of the soldiers in charge shouted orders at the others. Open the fire! Get back up! But it was too late. They started shooting at the spot where the man had stood a second ago but he was not there anymore. His flesh had melted into lava, a ring of fire stormed in the street, it was fuming hot. Like a hurricane they were forming new shapes of fire. The flames built up and broke down again and then rose high up into the air again. He was not a man anymore but beasts of fire. The first newly metamorphosed creature erupted from the inferno. It’s head appeared in the fire storm first, bigger than an elephant’s head, like a giant reptile with blue scales, horns the colour of the midnight sky and eyes like sapphires looked into the heaven above. Giant wings spread out above the fire and a blue scaled body with four legs and a long tail shot into the sky. A dragon had born from the flames.

The soldiers had all scattered. The ocean coloured giant took one look at them and sent sapphire flames down the street and burned everyone of them. Then he rose further up into the sky, spread his wings and felt the freedom underneath them.

But the firestorm had not ceased yet. Another dragon crawled out of the fire. This one was amber but instead of taking wings he started digging with his huge brown claws, down into the underworld of London.

Big trucks came driving down the street with giant steel spears, raised to the sky like cannons. More and more soldiers rushed in from every corner but would not dare stop the amber dragon. He had already disappeared into an underground tunnel, digging ever deeper.

A third dragon rose from the flames. This one sparkled in all shades of green like a tree in early summer. The giant green one looked at the approaching cars just once. In terror he shot a blaze of emerald flames towards them. Three immediately exploded, the others stopped before the park. The green dragon ascended into the sky,  greeting the blue one like an old friend with a mighty roar that shock the buildings of Central London.

A steel harpoon shot into the sky, aiming for the blue dragon but swiftly he flew higher, then turned towards the river Thames, plunged down and disappeared in the river, out of harm’s way, swimming towards the sea.

 The green one circled higher and higher. The fire storm in the street was still raging. Another one, a red dragon appeared in the flames. His scales like blood, his horns dark red. But this time the police men were ready. They shot a steel harpoon right at one of his red wings and they hit their mark. The red dragon screamed in pain and shot a blast of ruby fire at the car that exploded instantly. But another steel harpoon from the back of the street hit the dragon’s other wing. Desperately, he looked up into the sky, the green dragon circling higher and higher, afraid to be hit as well. Then they shot another harpoon at the red dragon and hit him in one of his legs. He stumbled forward, roared and ruby flames engulfed the police cars and trucks in front of him.

Out of the fire storm erupted the last dragon, bigger than all the others, his scales and wings were golden, beautiful like the sun. Right away he jumped into the sky, spread his wings and flew towards the green dragon.

The fire storm ceased, only cars were burning and a giant hole was in the middle of the park, where the amber dragon had disappeared into. The red dragon tried to break free, join his brothers in the sky but another harpoon hit him in the tail. He answered with another red fire storm. Cars, buildings, soldiers and civilians went up in flames.

The golden and the green dragon greeted each other in the sky over London and flew higher and higher into freedom. Then they rushed down like comets in the blue sky. An explosion of green and golden flames burned down Piccadilly Circus and Hyde Park. It was a rescue attempt for their red dragon brother. But the steel arrows had broken his wings. The statue of Eros melted away, the stone buildings crumbled to ruins and the green park turned grey. Desperate and sad, he looked up into the sky, realising he would never join his brothers. They too, knew then, that the situation was hopeless. Another arrow from somewhere below nearly hit the golden dragon. They sensed they had to leave now. Higher and higher they rose again, with every clasp of their wings saying good bye to their red relative.

But he wouldn’t go down without a fight. The dragon breathed a ruby flame, sending a fire storm deep down Piccadilly Circus burning everything and everyone in its way, setting all its roads ablaze. Regent Street, Shaftsbury Avenue and all the others turned into a fiery hell. The red dragon roared as another arrow hit him, this time lethal, directly in his chest. A final blaze of flames covered the entire park in fire, sparkling like rubies and burned everything left alive. Then, finally, free in death, the red dragon looked happily into the sky, closed his eyes and crushed to the ground.

Out of hatred for killing their brother, the golden and the green dragon shot down from the sky one more time and set Trafalgar Square and Leicester Square in beautiful golden and green flames ablaze. For a moment everything glimmered like diamonds and emeralds. Then the fires collapsed. They were so hot they had burned everything and had turned the bustling city into ashes. Within minutes, Central London had turned into a second Pompeii.

The two dragons ascended higher, left London behind them and flew north towards freedom. They roared, called out for their two other brothers. But the blue one had long left and was deep within his element, the sea. The amber one had ventured so deep beneath the earth, looking for a quiet space where no one would ever disturb him.

The two brothers flew over a green forest, far away from any humans and the authority. The green dragon circled above the forest, roared good bye to his brother and landed deep within the thickness of the green leaves. He had found a new home.

The golden dragon flew on. Over forests, fields, hills and cities until he was finally all alone far in the north. He glided down and landed in a field and folded his golden wings. He looked down and saw a trail track, sniffed at the steel that was hammered into the ground. He looked left and right but no train was approaching.  For a moment he lingered. It was completely quiet. He had left everything behind. Then he took wings again and circled over the field, the only sound was the clasps of his wings. The sun was setting, the light turned everything golden. The landscape faded into amber and the flying dragon became a part of it. Filled with freedom, he turned west and flew towards the disappearing golden glowing sun.

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