In a dark room surrounded by a thousand screams. Spencer felt walls within arm’s reach on both sides, shuffling down the tunnel as it would rise and fall erratically like it wanted them out.

  “Follow me friend,” Bernie shouted over the other muffled voices.

  Spencer had no choice but to listen to his kidnapper, trailing after his echoes bouncing around in the blindness.

  Spencer wiped the sweat from his brow as the small space started heating up. A light shone from behind them. Already exhausted, Spencer thought they had been heading the wrong way, but the light kept approaching until it began to burn. The false hope of the light was radiating from the real danger of the flames crawling down the tunnel towards them.

  The two men screamed and picked up their pace, jostling around along the angry passageway. The fire licked at their heels as they barrelled through turn after turn.

  Finally, a real light from the outside world showed itself.

  Two openings ahead. Spencer and Bernie didn’t hesitate to jump. They probably should have as they fell through the air towards a mass of people below. A collective of hands caught them, their owners seeming unbothered as they continued marching forward.

  Now crowd surfing, the panting pair looked back to where they had leapt, gazing upon nostrils the size of doorways. And a second later the mouth pulled open to release the flow of fire that was following them.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A dragon. At least a hundred metres long. Flying through the city streets, snaking around blocks. Not a real dragon of course, Spencer thought. Googly eyes and glittering gold scales glued to a tube supported by the crowd that carried Spencer and Bernie as well now.

  The flames were real though, impressive pyrotechnics shooting hot streams into the sky. The army under the dragon filled every space on the street and sidewalk, singing and chanting for more fire. All wore gold matching their mascot, and all were beelining in the same direction.

  “Enough fun,” Bernie shouted, sliding down back to his feet. “We don’t wanna go that way,” pointing towards the warband’s destination.

  Spencer tried to follow through the wave of people as he pushed against their current.

  His ears were spared as they cut across an alley, empty of golden crusaders.

  Safety was short-lived unfortunately as Bernie led them into the adjacent street. The sea of people changing colours from gold to grey, but just as enthusiastic.

  Proven when a screaming lunatic jumped out at Spencer. Patches of fake fur stuck to his bare body. He flashed his plastic fangs and howled right in Spencer’s face until Bernie stepped between them. He socked the near naked fool in the snout, and he turned tail, rejoining his pack.

  After another effort they escaped the second crowd as well. Every single soul in the city must’ve been in those parades, because the rest of the place was deserted.

  “It’s like a ghost town out here,” Spencer said to fill the absence of the party ruckus.

  “Don’t worry,” Bernie replied without looking back, “this is the nice part of city, they cleared the last of the ghosts outta here years ago.”

  As Spencer was about to question this old man’s sanity he bumped into him, not realising he had stopped in his tracks out front of one building in particular.

  “We’re here,” Bernie proclaimed proudly. “The grand final will be the perfect distraction. Guards will be stretched thin, and the ones left on watch will be busy watching on tv.”