A bedtime(?) story.

It was the wee hours of the night when the villagers were awakened by the fearsome cries of the dreaded no-sleep dragon. The terrible creature was well-known to the villagers, but had not been heard from in some time. They had hoped that it was gone for good.

Immediately the villagers sought to appease the beast. Songs and sacrifices were made in its honor. Soothing comforts were offered. Everything that had ever worked to satisfy the dragon was tried, but to no avail. The dragon continued to roar and wail.

Just as the villagers despaired of ever being able to sleep again, one arose as a hero and champion to all. Long did he battle the dragon. Many times he thought the beast defeated, only to see it rise again. At last, weary beyond measure, he chose to make of himself the ultimate sacrifice. He laid himself down before the dragon, no arms or armor at his side, and offered forth his hand and utter supplication.

The dragon was pleased by this tribute, and accepted the honor as its due. It laid its head down, and silence was heard throughout the village. The hero had triumphed, and sleep was once again known to all.

 

This is what my brain was doing at 2 o'clock this morning.