Short story that I wrote

I thought this short story up centered around a dragon character for a book that I'm writing. If anyone's curious, If I ever get it published, it's gonna be called "The Prophecy of the Wyrms." Enjoy!
------------------------------------------

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The dragon wheezes, seemingly preoccupied with something. You can't see him well, just a sillohouette. He ignores you, so you walk away. Wandering around, you examine some of the graves in the area. Most of them are so old that they crumble at your touch. Others are, disturbingly, newer. You wonder what the dragon does that all these graves are here. You shudder at the images that flood into your mind.

An interesting place, you think as you pass by a statue of an angel. It seems to watch you as you walk by. You shake off the thought. How could stone be watching you? As you go around it, you realize that you have a better view of the dragon. You look over at him, and gasp in horror. Alerted at the sound, the dragon turns to face you. "Why are you here?" He rasps in a whispery voice, his bloodred eyes squinting to get a good look at you. He's dead, he's got to be. His pale skin is coming away in places, revealing muscle. Heck, you can even see parts of the zombie dragon's skeleton.

You take a deep breath and attempt to glare into his eyes. "Why are you here?" You ask, your gaze shifting to whatever it is he's working on. He quickly covers it with a skeletal claw. "I mean," You quickly say, "Where are we?"

The dragon sighs, as if you are incredibly dense. "This, this is a cemetary. But not just any cemetary. It is where heroes go. You know, the ones from the stories that have happy endings that aren't so happy. I watch over them." He explains.

"Oh, so you're like the Grim Reaper or something?"

The monster scoffs. "Ha! The Grim Reaper simply collects the souls of the dead. What he does with them, I don't want to know. Like I said, I watch over the lost souls."

"Oh. What are you working on?" You ask, your confidence slowly returning. The dragon seems to brighten up at the question.

"Do you really want to know? Promise you won't scream?" He asks, his eyes reducing to mere slits, suspicious. You nod. He removes his claw, and your breath catches in your throat as you stare at it. It stares back.

"It, it's...Interesting." You stammer.

"You really like it? I had heard legends about the animated dead, the Frankenstein Monster. I figured that if a mere human could make life from death, I could do it better." He pats the skull. A blue eye is set in one of the sockets, and what you assume was once another in the other socket. It seems that the monster had been in the process of stitching skin onto it.

"How nice." You mutter, swallowing nervously.

"I know. I figured that if I used parts from past heroes, a bit of each hero will be embedded into my being. Thus creating an ultimate hero!" The dragon wheezes gleefully, "I'm just missing two very essential pieces to finish my masterpiece." He says, glancing at you.

"W-what's that?" You stutter, already knowing the answer.

"Well, you don't happen to be needing your heart or brain, do you?" The monster asks. But you don't hear the question. You screamed and began to run out of the graveyard at the word "you."