Within the Irish Sky

"They did it… they actually did it!" Phillip muttered to himself as he stepped from the plane's doorway. The burst of brisk air hit him like the breath of a merciful goddess, dispelling any doubts in his mind that this wonderful trip had been a dream.

The airport passed by the eager youth in a blur. Languages and people from around the globe seemed to assault him from every direction as he pushed his way through the lines and crowds, gathering his belongings before making his way into the parking lot.

He was almost too excited to remember his paperwork as he approached the car-rentals, hastily signing a contract he barely read before climbing into a small sedan. The red vehicle's engines revved up as the teenager swerved out of the dealership, putting the airport far behind him.

It took Phillip mere minutes to make it out of the city. Before he knew it he was driving along a massive cliff face, his eyes drifting from the road to the beach far below to the horizon in the distance.

Shielding his eyes from the setting sun he saw them. Turning his head back inland the driver had to adjust his glasses to make sure it was no trick. But, to his delight, the view before him was no illusion: stretching up in the distance were the emerald green mountains that made Ireland so famous.

When his parents had told Phillip they were sending him on a senior trip he had been skeptical. The idea of his family pooling together money for a vacation for their son alone was nearly out of the question; the trip would be expensive, after all. When they had promised the high school-er that they had raised enough to send him somewhere "exciting" his mind immediately went to the Florida beaches or possibly a car trip out west.

And then the day of his graduation arrived.

The diploma was one thing; the little piece of paper could never have been so meaningful, even in the anxious youth's dreams. But then he approached his parents waiting among the spectators; their grins were wide enough to swallow the moon when the handed him an envelope.

The parcel contained two items: a slip of paper and a wad of one-hundred dollar bills. After the initial shock of well over a thousand dollars hit the boy he hastily reached to examine the parchment. His heart stopped as a single phrase leapt from the jumble of ink: Ireland, departs at seven o'clock a.m.

His parents had kept their word, sending their son someplace far more magical than the beaches of the American coast: the mountains of the Emerald Isle.

The coming shadows of night did nothing to suppress the excitement that seemed to be throwing its own graduation party in Phillip's chest. Everything seemed to take on some archaic, mystical light: the wind rustling the roadside grass, the fog rising from the foothills, and even the hundred foot cliffs seemed to radiate the arcane aura.

For a long stretch of roadway the car disappeared, replaced in the youth's mind with a horse. The wheel seemed to become a shield as his fingers gripped the seat-adjuster at his side, imagining the hilt of a sword. Darkness swirled around him as the mist seemed to hold countless scads of creatures, vile demons awaiting the knight's judgment.

The whole time a dragon swooped overhead. Unlike most would-be knights Phillip made no move to fight the creature; instead he gazed up at the magnificent being as he kept the shadows at bay, hoping to gain its approval. Continually the reptile would nod, pleased with the prowess of the horseman below.

In Phillip's fantasy the dragon's approval was the greatest gift he had ever received. He had always loved dragons; he never wanted to kill them, simply be around them, to learn from them. His keen mind made the daydream so real; it was as though he could reach out and touch the legendary creature…

But then the dragon coughed, spoiling the mystical scene.

The horse came to a halt as the hallucinogenic vision dissipated, revealing the red sedan once again. Shaking his head to clear the last of his fantasy Phillip adjusted his glasses, looking down to the various indicators flashing about the vehicle.

He had something akin to a full tank of gas; his oil was fine. Something odd was happening to the car; it was as though it simply wanted to stop working.

Shrugging off the first spot of bad luck in days Phillip climbed from the side of the car, heading to the front of his borrowed ride to pop the hood. Inside the engine was sputtering like a dying animal, smoke puffing from its bowels as though it were a poorly trained fire-eater. Strange grinding noises accompanied the smoke and, in order to save what remained of the car, the boy quickly returned to the driver's seat and removed the keys.

"Well… crap…" he muttered, sitting down among the moonlight that spilled across the ocean.

Recalling what he had learned about the island nation, Phillip quickly recalled a map he had seen across the screen of his computer. The icon of a red plane had marked the Dublin airport; several miles to the north Fosterstown lay, a famous bed and breakfast within awaiting the tourist's arrival. From what he had gathered the town was no more than four kilometers away, slightly over two miles.

To check his hunch the boy took a map from the glove compartment, scanning it over before allowing a victorious grin to cross his lips.

The wind nipped at the youth's hair as he drew a flashlight from the sedan, slipping his backpack over his shoulders before letting out a deep, resigned breath. Then he was off, stomping through the roadside forest as he followed the car's compass.

What might have been twenty minutes passed before a howl split the night. Phillip jumped at the sound, hoping with all his might it was just some lost dog; he knew he could not fight off a pack of wolves should they appear.

What was worse, the howling brought back memories of Irish legends. The most famous of the terrifying beasts was the banshee, a woman whose voice could steal the souls of wanderers. What if the legend was real? What if he encountered such a monster?

The youth's tread quickened as he began to breathe faster, his heart pounding like a caged bird. The mud squished beneath his feet as the wind picked up again, this time strong enough to knock his glasses askew.

Stopping to fix the disheveled spectacles the boy hear another frightened sound: an enormous boom that shook the very forest itself. Moments later a famed Irish rainstorm tore down around the hiker, the pellets causing him to seek shelter among the tangled branches of an ancient tree.

"Perfect," Phillip muttered as the downpour seeped under his sneakers, dampening both his jeans and jacket, soaking through to the t-shirt he wore beneath the thin second-layer.

"Welcome to Ireland." The boy laugh, sinking down into the mud to rest against the bark of his shelter. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, blowing a cloud of hot breath into the cool shower.

His blood froze as, to his right, a hiss broke through the dropping rain. A single eye cracked open as Phillip's body tensed, his head turning ever so slowly towards the sound.

"It's just a snake… it's just a snake…" he repeated softly. "Stay still; it won't hurt you if you don't hurt it."

Then the boy's stomach dropped: there were no snakes in Ireland, the island (in legend) having had the serpents cast out during the time of St. Patrick.

"Banshee!" he screamed, leaping to his feet and tearing through the forest with renewed energy. Behind him something crashed through the trees, matching his pace and slowly gaining on him. Whatever chased the boy carried considerable weight, being heavy enough to part the wooden barrier before it with ease.

Phillip glanced behind him only once, hoping to see that the booming was merely thunder and that the monster at his heels had given up the chase. Instead, however, he found the silhouette of a massive being mere feet behind him, the only discernable feature in the darkness coming from a pair of glowing red eyes.

All at once a cliff stretched out before the terrified youth, blocking any hope of escape from the ancient monster at his back. The cold stone wall pressed against the boy as he backed into it, turning to face the oncoming monster with a final, defiant scowl.

Seeming to realize it had caught its prey, the predator was slow to exit the trees. The flashlight beam came up to blaze into its horrible crimson eyes as its head rose up to tower above the forest canopy, gazing down at the human with fiery intensity.

The meager light fell to the ground, rolling through the mud to blind the helpless Phillip. As though reality willed the sight to come to him again, though, a flash of lightning struck behind the great predator; in that instant her horrifying beauty was revealed.

She seemed as perfect as the legends described her. Her massive form stood stories high and countless feet long, trailing back through the trees as though it were never ending. Europeans had done an excellent job in capturing her body style in countless paintings; countless fantasy novels had wonderfully acquired her mystical aura in words.

Standing above her shocked victim was a dragon.

Quickly Phillip analyzed the situation, realizing that he had only seconds to act before the huntress had her way with him. He could try and dart beneath the monster's legs, but it would be easy enough for her to sit down and crush him. He could attempt to dart to either side of the dragon and attempt to slip away through the woodlands but, in that course of events, she could easily catch up to him again.

In the end he realized he didn't have the willpower to try and run. He was standing before a dragon, the very creature he had admired for so much of his life; how could he leave such a wonderful being behind?

Some legends said dragons were evil, heartless killers; Phillip had seen enough modern art to realize some of the creatures were able to sink low enough to swallow their victims whole, digesting them while they still lived. Some tales wove a story in which dragons were kindly, goodly creatures though; perhaps they truly were as kind as those legends foretold.

Stooping down so that her head lay on the ground, the tip of her nose just above Phillip's head, the dragon grinned. The teeth before the human were as sharp as razors, shining in the reflected moonlight as rain continued to pour down around the pair.

"So... what's your name?" the dragon purred, the fangs parting to form the words almost seductively.

"P-Phillip..." he stuttered, gazing up into the blazing eyes of the great dragon.

"Well, hello Phillip..." she hissed, the words escaping like wisps of pleasure. "It is rather rare that I find such an… interesting human in my forest. "

"I'm sorry for trespassing." The youth assured her. "I was just looking for the town."

"In the middle of this kind of storm?" the dragon asked. "A bit of a dangerous idea, don't you think? People have died in mudslides before; several times in this country, in fact. You wouldn't want to become one of them…

"You could also lose your way so easily." She continued. "And, all lost and alone, hypothermia would creep in. Even if it's summer, the nights get rather cool around here."

"I did kind of lose my way in the chase." Phillip admitted. "Do you know where the road is from here?"

"What's the hurry, cutie?" the woman purred, causing the boy to blush slightly. "You can stay with me for tonight. I have a nice cave that can easily keep a human like you warm and cozy. Would you please spend the night with me?"

"I… um…"

"You could stay longer if you wanted; I could always use some company." The great being went on. "Please?"

"I can stay." Phillip agreed, his heart racing with excitement. He had found a dragon that wanted him to stay with her, perhaps forever!

"Great!" the massive reptile hissed in excitement, moving the whole of her great bulk into the clearing. She curled up against the cliff, revealing the true enormity of her form.

"This is where I sleep." She said, nuzzling against the cold stone and purring in comfort. "For a dragon, this is heaven!"

"You know my name, but I don't have yours." Phillip said, coming over to stand beside the dragon's black side.

"My name is Sky. To be honest no one has used it in a long time; I had almost forgotten it…"

"Well it's nice to meet you Sky." Phillip bowed, shivering slightly in the rain.

"The pleasure is all mine, little man." The dragon returned.

"I hate to be rude," the boy continued "but I thought you said you had a cave. I'm a bit cold, and I'm starting to believe what you said about hypothermia."

"I don't have a cave." The black dragon grinned. "But I do have a cave for you. It's nice and warm, and it's much softer than my bed…"

Phillip's mind jumped to conclusions before Sky made her move. His mind recalled the modern art of dragons, where human beings had been swallowed whole. Scenes of painful digestive processes lingered in his mind as claws circled around him, far too swift to allow any chance of escape.

"Aaaaaah," the dragon said playfully as her jaws parted, revealing the pinkish maw that lay behind them. Lightning flashed behind the colossal predator, revealing her terror and beauty all in the brief instant before the rush of Phillip's fall took his world away.

Saliva and the smell of roasted deer meat surrounded the youth as his struggles were engulfed in the mouth of the dragon, waves of pleasure rolling up through the huntress as she accepted the thrashing eagerly. But Phillip was tired; it took mere minutes for his life-dependant battle to be reduced to a mere series of half-hearted twists.

Somewhat disappointed Sky moved on to her favorite part of the exchange. Her lack of pleasure was replaced by bliss as the boy slid over her tongue, tickling her mouth with a flavor unlike anything she had experienced in the past. The taste lingered behind her morsel as he slid into her throat, his struggles renewed as he slid slowly through the massive body of the dragon and into the cavernous stomach that awaited him.

Ankle deep liquid sloshed about Sky's prey as he stood in his fleshy prison, gazing with horror at his surroundings. He had always dreamed of being eaten alive; it was almost a passion that dwelt within him. But now he knew that, despite being all he had ever dreamed of, he would only experience this once: he was sure to be a pile of bones and digestive juices by morning.

"Comfy?" a great voice echoed down from the throat behind Phillip. "I certainly am. Has anyone ever told you you're very filling?"

The bile sloshed around the human as he sat amongst the churning of the great organ, feeling the realization that he was going to die well up within him. Chuckles occasionally shook the organic walls as the horrible predator laughed, her mirth acting like a small earthquake.

"Cute and tasty," she purred "I could keep you around awhile."

"I guess I'll be with you forever, won't I?" Phillip asked. "I'll be a part of you."

"Romantic…" Sky purred. "But I don't think you understand the nature of your 'prison', do you?"

"An organ designed for digestion?"

"Only when a dragon needs the energy," the black dragon explained. "If I don't need more energy – or if I simply don't want to – you don't turn into scat. My kind has much more control over their internal functions than you do."

"So… I'm safe?" "Much more so in there than out here." "And… I can stay with you?" "As long as you want, my little snack."

Phillip sank back against the wall of the stomach, his heart beat changing to the song of fear to that of exhilaration. He was living out his fantasy – taking a trip inside the body of a dragon – and yet seemed to be able to live through the experience.

"Best Senior Trip ever…" Sky's meal muttered, grinning as his eyes closed and he slipped into the realm of dreams. All around him, the purrs of the dragon's bliss echoed like the calling into Phillip's new life.