Daily Writing Prompt - Don't Mind if I Do

Every once in a while a Facebook page to which I subscribe provides "daily writing prompts" to stoke writers' creativity. Today's caught my attention and I thought to myself "why not?"

The prompt read thusly: 

Write the first page of a story using these words: 

1. Dragon
2. Chicago
3. Accident
4. Sewer
5. Pixies

So, naturally, I did. Enjoy and let me know what you think. 

***

It had to be the exhaustion. There was no other reason his eyes remained closed. The stench of the storm sewer alone would have caused anyone of a lesser constitution to gag. Notwithstanding, he deservedly slept a deep sleep. He'd been on the run so long, constantly moving. Even if he could find peace of mind long enough to stop and think about it, he'd still not remember the last time he'd had more than two consecutive hours of sleep. It was only the tugging at his pocket that finally stirred him awake.

"Hey! Fuck off!" he yelled, his senses roaring to full faculty. He swung at the creature attempting to steal the only food he had left. With spit and a hiss, the tiny, pointy-eared pickpocket darted and dashed away from his swinging hand. As his eyes adjusted, he became fully aware of the swarm of pixies that floated around him.

"Get out of here!" he shouted as he rose to his feet and swatted at least two of the miniature menaces from the air. Another picked up and threw a small rock, hitting him in the temple.

"Ow!" He swung again, this time dispersing the winged thieves for good. They screeched obscenities in their native pixie tongue as they flitted down the pipe and into the darkness. Once assured they were gone, and all his provisions intact, he breathed deeply. The smell of mildew and rot filled his nostrils. Frankly he'd smelled worse, and the fact that he could still smell at all was a blessing. It meant that he was, after everything he'd been through, still alive.

They'd called it an "accident." They were full of shit. It was no accident. Whatever they were doing at the Fisk Generating Station was purposeful. The old power plant was supposed to have been decommissioned back in 2012. He knew better. Day after day, trucks came and went like clockwork every other hour. He'd seen them, each white, each bearing nuclear symbols on their doors. At first he thought it was some kind of leak they were trying to contain. That was, at least, until he remembered that Fisk was a coal-fired facility.

It was an experiment. It had to be. That, or they'd discovered something there beside Lake Michigan. Perhaps they made them. Maybe they'd simply released them. Whatever they did, it changed the world forever.

When the creatures first appeared, the military tried everything to stop them. The moron in the White House even authorized using nukes. Of course that backfired.  All that accomplished was to plunge most of the Midwest and surrounding areas into nuclear winter. The scenario played out around the globe. A planet that could once call itself home to humanity was now nothing more than a world-wide wasteland in which those that survived barely clung to life. Those humans that survived, that is.

No, the world had changed. If mythology thought it up, it now roamed deserted city streets across the globe. Pixies. Trolls. Ogres. And they weren't even the worst of the lot. That honor belonged to the winged monstrosities that filled the skies. Even now, perched atop Willis Tower high above the city, one watched. It was the biggest; at least it was the biggest he'd seen. There could be larger elsewhere in the world, for all he knew. He tried not to think about it. All he knew for certain was that this, particular dragon had destroyed half of Chicago.