Welcome to the gallery of stories.

Anyone can come here and add their stories. (you can also add poems)

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There are no text limits, and your stories don't have to be about dragons, as long as they have magic in them.

Please separate your stories from others by placing a line of dots at the end of your story which I will replace with a page divider.

All these poems and stories have been written by people like you, so please be kind and don't claim them as your own. They belong to those who wrote them.

Thank you

The Dragon who could not fly

The little dragon sat on the hill,

watching the farmer till,

He looked over the land and up at the sky,

Letting out a pitiful sigh,

Wishing, wishing, that he could fly!

All the other little dragons could,

He felt like he could and should,

But every single time he tried,

He thought back and sighed.

All I’m good for is nothing, he thought,

Oh, how he wished he could fly!

He walked home to his families cave,

And walked up to his mother,

He asked her yet again, "mother, why can’t I fly?"

She sighed and said " sweet, be brave, Why don’t you ask your brother?"

He walked up to his brother and asked him why?

But all his brother had to say was " go away!"

For his brother was in quite a temper.

As the little dragon went back to his hill, He could not help but whimper, And poof!

There suddenly appeared a wondrous fairy named Jill,

Who told him why,

Why he could not fly, and the answer was quite simple!

"Well" she said "You can not fly because you are to young"

By redandvelvet

The star in the western corner,

was shining ever so brightly,

while the star in the eastern corner,

was falling from the sky.

The star in the northern corner,

was blinking rapidly,

and the star in the southern corner,

was smiling happily.

The stars, they were a family,

all four of them united,

till the dreadful day,

when the eastern star fell.

everyone saw it,

and everyone wept.

But someone was rejoicing,

one little boy in a far away place,

He had found a friend.

impervious to all heat and flame,

the dragon crept out of it's shell.

The atmosphere of our very own earth,

had hatched him at last.

His mother was the star itself,

who had died to give him life,

his father was magic,

wise and never aging,

and he was the very first dragon.

Taken from "the myths of the west", a wizards journal. (by redandvelvet)

( While this poem is rather nice , it is sadly not true.

The first dragon was not a hatchling born by a star.

To learn about the real first dragon visit "the history of dragons: a guided tour")


Nightime adventures

Stella crept silently out of bed, her bare feet making no sound on the cold stone floor. She tiptoed past the sleeping forms on the bed near her, hoping they would not wake. As she slowly opened the door of the dormitory her heart filled with dread.
Just outside the door was the cat Jared and three other cats whom she dud not recognize. Stella knew that one mewl from any of them would wake the matron whose room was parallel to the dormitory. She would be in allot of trouble if she was found out of bed so late, especially on Samhain.
Stella rummaged in her pocket: her fingers were like lumps of ice, but she knew that there was only one thing that could distract the cats. Finally her numb fingers collided with a small box. She pulled it out and opened it, being careful not to make any noise. Inside were two bags of catnip, pilfered from the matrons room. (The matron owned Jared.) Stella grabbed one and threw it to Jared and the other cats. Jared skilfully leaped up and caught the bag, then began to bat at it, occasionally letting his friends play to.
Stella decided that the cats were to busy to mewl, and that the soft scratching sounds of them playing were better then the high pitched whine that would be sure to echo through the stone building.
She hurried down the hall treading softly. She came to a stop a large blue door. Pushing it open, she stepped into the familiar courtyard. Looking up she saw that the moon was about halfway across the dark velvet sky. I'm late!
She thought frantically. Forgetting all caution, she ran across the courtyard, her long brown hair trailing behind her.
At the far end of the yard was a giant rusty iron gate. None of the other girls at the orphanage had dared go near it, for two reasons. 1) The matron would be displeased, a thing all the girls tried desperately to avoid.
2) Whatever lay behind that door was bound to be different, and all the girls hated difference. Except Stella.
When Stella arrived at the door she ran up to it and , grabbing on of the rusty old rings, gave an almighty heave. Breathless, both from running and from the extreme weight of the door, she stepped out of the courtyard and closed the door behind her, shutting away the unpleasant orphanage.
Stella was now on a narrow dirty lane, foggy like everywhere else in London, that snaked through the city. She looked up and down the alley. No-one. She sighed and turned back towards the gate. I guess he got tired of waiting, she thought. Just as she began to push the heavy door back open she heard a light airy voice say "Stella, there you are! I've been waiting for ages."
Stella spun around in excitement, her heart beating rapidly. He is still here!, she thought.
A little boy, around eight or nine, walked up to Stella. He was wearing a dirty brown tunic that fell to his knees, with a leather belt strapped to his waist. Long black hair, as dark as a night with no moon, fell to his shoulders. One would not assume he was the prince of Alnagia, heir to the throne.
Stella apologized for being late, and then asked him the question she had been wanting to ask him for hours. "Is this it?". The boy nodded, and his unusual silver eyes glinted in the moonlight. "It is." he answered.
So together they walked, chatting about their other adventures together, and how much fun they'd had. As they walked, the moon growing closer to the edge of the sky, the boy began to glow. Stella stopped walking and asked again, "Is this it?". The boy nodded once more, and slipped his hand into hers. They quickened their pace and walked off this world, leaving the foggy streets of London behind, and slipping into the home world of the boy.
An onlooker would have seen a young girl and boy, walking side by side, slowly disappearing as they walked, until they weren't there anymore. That onlooker might have shook their head and rubbed their, dismissing it as a trick of the light, or a figment of their imagination, brought on by the late hour. But you and I both know, the two children walked away into a world of magic, and this time, they never came back.