The dragon that ate the sun
The ancients said that it would be a dragon that ate the sun, throwing all the worlds into eternal darkness. They said that it would be because of our sins. Our misdeeds. Our lack of faith.
If only they’d known.
Punjabi Wok and More is a local Asian-fusion spot downtown. I had always wondered what Asian-fusion meant. Stir-fried brinjals with naan; spicy edamame curry; ice cream tofu deep-fried in soy milk. And I fucking loved it.
One day, ravenous from a brutal morning of code shit-fuckery (I work as a systems administrator), I felt the deep, rumbling craving that could only be satisfied by something with soy sauce and a whole lot of chilli. Punjabi Wok and More was without a doubt the best place to satisfy this primal, dark urge.
The plastic garden chair squeaked as I sat down at the not-entirely-sticky plastic table. I hastily snatched up the menu and browsed through it despite knowing it like the back of my hand. I glanced through the usual options trying to find the right series of words. At the bottom corner of the crinkled, laminated page was a section I’d never noticed before. The “and More” section. How had I not seen this previously?
There was only one option. “Garama garama”. I knew from my frequent visits to curry dens, where I developed an ungodly addiction to spicy food, that the word garam meant “hot”. That was good enough for me and I ordered the meal.
The plate was laid before me in less time than I thought possible. The beaten and chipped cutlery leapt to my hands and I dug in. And then it happened.
The heat, blistering and full of ecstasy hit me like a firetruck full of petrol. Sweat broke out on my forehead and my body began to slowly boil. I was floating in an inferno. I was experiencing sainthood…godhood.
But I needed more. The world looked small to me now. From above I saw myself sitting in a dinky restaurant finishing a plate of food. Yet I was not him. I was more.
So much more.
The stars appeared around me as I soared upwards. My claws brushed the air as I felt the fire in my chest grow, blossom, threatening to explode outwards. A deep, cosmic roar escaped my chest as I searched for more…more.
And there it was, glowing in front of me. A mouthful of heat and tasty intensity. It would satisfy my desires. My maw opened, space and time warped, and in a snap of my cosmic jaws, the lights went out.
My eyes opened, sweat drenched my body and I stared at an empty, oily plate in front of me. The knife and fork fell out of my hands with a clang as I blinked away my fever dream.
I’ll be back to Punjabi Wok and More.
Originally published on Reddit writing prompts.
#writing- 45 toasts