Borborygmus

(Author’s Note – Just a small one today, been suffering from neck ache.)

The villagers had fled in fear as the very ground under them rumbled and heaved. They fled, thinking some individual sinner among them had ired their deity and caused punishment to be cast upon the little farm community. Likely, from the rumblings of the ground, it would be cast down into the depths of hell.

The truth however, not that they would find out for quite some years, was all the more prosaic. On the mountain near their little settlement was a cave. In the cave was a mighty dragon, curled up in slumber. The cause was twofold. For the first part of their torment, the dragon had rolled somewhat awkwardly in its hibernation. Head craned at an odd angle, it couldn’t help but to snore in loud, rock-shaking bouts.

As for the second part of their torment? As its cycle of hibernation drew to its end, its stomach began to protest the emptiness inside. So it too began to shake and growl, trying to alert the brain that rested above the hole where food went that it could do eating.

One day, the snores and the borborygmus cacophony that had shook the land stopped, and the villagers rejoiced. Calling their relatives back home, they laid on a grand feast for themselves in celebration.

The dragon appreciated the feast very much. It was rather touching to see them not only dressed in their finest, but having brought even more food with them to be eaten, some forms of burned animals by the look of it.

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