On the edge of a cliff stood a proud creature that we have named The Dragon. As he stares into the pink sunset his evil eyes narrow, as he tried to spot his distant victim.

The skin that lays just above his dry bones is like a country-side farm road with giant potholes created by horse carriages.

A bunch of razer sharp teeth that are as pointy as carving knives cutting into a bloody beef. And behind there is a pair of piercing jaws ready and open to snap.

His ridged spine bleeds down his long back like an ancient railway track.

Wings spread out as takes off into the adventurous skies of Cornwall.

His talons open up ready to catch the poor victim who is about to be a scrumptious piece of food.

Back at home his claws, which are like burning candles, scrape its p preys’ soft skin ready for dinner…

His slimy tongue slurps at the animals’ juicy blood as his bristles brush against the wet bones of a rabbit.