A great flash of brilliant light snatches through my blinds, slicing into every corner of my room. The pale walls glow for the brief moment the great pale light lasts, yet soon vanish as quickly as they came. My puzzlement seeps through my mind and courses through my brain. I had indeed heard and seen fractions of the storm outside earlier, but was it still continuing at this hour? I turn my head and look out into the darkness, far beyond the glow of amber and quartz street lights and the gently gliding head and tail lights of cars. I cannot see the mountain range through the shroud of onyx cloud. Nor can I see beginning or end to the darkness. From the limited view between the slats of plastic the night seems to stretch on and on forever, like a pit of despair. Suddenly a small rumble rattles through my window and fills my ears, growing into a tremendous roar. My body naturally jolts, ready to bolt away from danger, but danger does not come. Instead my head is filled with childlike curiosity. It has been years since I’d seen a proper storm. Chuckling to myself a reach for my glasses and position them on my face before proceeding to pull up the blinds by their cords, attaching them into place. The theatre’s show was about to commence and I was ready for it!
Outside the once calm weather has turned to chaos. In the glow of the amber street light outside my window the single drops of rain have stretched and merge to create brushstrokes in the light, like an Impressionist painting. Opening my window slightly I hear it as it hisses against the ground in a threatening manner, a cornered cat warning me to stay well clear of the night. The lamppost itself sways unsteadily in the night, my nerves wavering with every swing it makes. The trees reach across the sky like fingers, leaning in the wind to try and grab pieces of the sky above. It was all the wind’s doing, but he merely howled at me like a hungry lone wolf. I wasn’t about to enrage him further. The gutters form violent rapids seeping into the drains, shimmering black and amber in the limited light available. I see a few brave souls trying to get through the weather. Their coats, some hooded and some not, appear to try and escape their bodies as they desperately hold onto them. Waving like flags they seemingly dance and shimmer as they are pelted with wind and rain. My heart sinks, my sympathies with them. Had they not been so hasty in their pace, I may have given into my temptation to offer them shelter from the storm.
But that was barely the start of the show. A sudden pale flash on the horizon snaps me back to focussing on the weather. I don’t have much time to locate the source before I hear the roar or thunder sounding over the mountains. My excitement rises once more- the Dragons have awoken! I stand by my window, my eyes as wide as saucers watching the sky. A blue-tinged flash pounds the sky right before my eyes, filling my soul with awe. I can’t help but chuckle in nervous excitement at the power of this Blue Dragon, his slightly softer roar signifying his distance from me. A few more flashes come, all followed by roars. Some roars are further, some are closer. The Dragons don’t seem to care where they strike, but merely strike when they feel so inclined to do so. They rule the skies, not us and our measly technology. No piece of human design could ever stop these forces of nature. They help to maintain a balance in our natural world, fighting the war between warm and cold air that we couldn’t help to control alone. They alone hold the power.
This was soon proven to me. Just as I believed that all these Dragons has to offer were mere flashes, the mighty Purple Dragon decided to show me his true might. He raised his claws high into the air, several times the height of Snowdon, and brought it down across the sky. His talons flashed blazing amethyst, setting the sky ablaze. The night’s sky itself ripped to pieces at his touch, purple light filling every inch of me. I gasp in shock and step backward in fear. This was truly the King of the Dragons, this purple one. His roar was like no other either. It bellowed in the night air, silencing the hissing rain and howling winds. He drowned out every other sound in the area, his voice alone dominating the scene. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. This great natural phenomenon… And it was I who bore witness to it! This display of nature’s power had now filled me with both wonder and fear. It was a reminder that I was only a small part of this extensive world and an even smaller part of the bigger plan. I felt humbled by this great power and I couldn’t help but submit to it.
But that was not the end still. Other dragons began demonstrating their power. The Yellow Dragon flashed across the sky, high above the clouds and mainly out of view, but her roar was unmistakable as it reached through and filled my ears. The Blue Dragon returned and continued to slice across the sky, his roars varying in strength as he darted from place to place. The Red Dragon flashed directly over the mountains, claiming her territory with a terrible roar that even I found hard to dismiss. No wonder it is she who is this nation’s national symbol! The White Dragon scratched across the sky in short bolts, his light more impressive than his slightly tame roaring abilities. The dragons continued to dance across the sky. Flying, soaring, tearing, slicing, roaring and bellowing to show off their skills to anyone brave (or foolish) enough to watch.
However after a long display the dragons began to grow tired of their own games. The flashes and slicing grew more apathetic as the night continued, the roars dimming into small grumbles of displeasure. Soon I was left standing alone in my room, the night once again dark where the streetlights and cars could not reach. The wind and the rain left with the dragons, seemingly following their leaders onwards to pastures anew. It would have been rather lonely if it had not been for the soft line of silver upon the edge of a cloud. My eyebrows furrowed into a frown. Silver? At night? But then more patches of silver began to appear. Silver and aqua blue patches began dappling the sky, the darkness dissipating and slinking off to wherever it had come from. Looking up I saw the pale form of the moon, shrouded softly under a warm blanket of cloud. She cast her light down upon my pale skin and kissed me softly, letting me know that it was all alright. I hummed with satisfaction at her maternal embrace, feeling my soul refreshed by the cool night air. I gently closed my window and put my glasses away again. Sinking under the warm duvet of my bed I stared up at the blank ceiling, thinking about the events from the past few hours. It was certainly a night I’d never forget. Not the rain. Not the wind. Not the brave souls. Not the clouds. Not the moon. And I certainly wouldn’t forget them, either.
I will never forget the Dragons of Bangor.