Reading it gave me the shivers. I felt as if I were being drawn into the clutches of some giant sea squid ... tentacles embracing and squeezing the life out of some unwatchful and credulous and unfortunate prey. I suppose all spiritual persuasions have their unremitting undergrowth ... the wispy adventures in 'mystical' realms that are then codified and applied ... and woe betide the unfortunate prey.
The dragon's blood and guts and bones lie scattered on the earth as wonder-struck peasants gather around and gawk. Their nemesis is at last destroyed. And as the wonder-struck gawk, the king of the realm is the first to step forward and claim credit for killing the beast. He proclaims his own heroism and thus elevates his power. Next in line to take credit is a Christian monk with a cross-topped staff: It was his God and his prayers that defeated this mighty evil.
On the sidelines of the crowd, the young wizard whose actions were largely responsible for the dragon's demise stands with his girlfriend and watches silently before, without comment, he and his girlfriend walk slowly away.
Everyone wants the credit, the power and the glory.
Few are willing to don the mantle of the wizard they already are.