D is for Dragons

pexels-photo-849385.jpg

Reaching blindly in front of me, stuck in a cave.

Ferling the shape of a head larger than my body and wings.

Are those fangs? Is that a crooked spine? Have I found a dinosaur?

Not a fossil. A skeleton.

When I reach between your ribs between four inflated lungs and squeeze the soft lump of a heart I found there, you roar.

I have found a sleeping dragon.

Your breath smells like ashes and your newly awake gaze – without coffee – is thunderous orange.

Angry.

Why did I wake you?

I squeak. Like a mouse. I didn’t mean to. I thought I had found a dinosaur. A real one.

You scoff. Shake your head and explain that if dragons are horses, dinos are donkeys and I’m lucky to have found you. One in a million.

My life by a thread I cannot climb, my heart a captive bird, my limbs trembling with fear.

Not brave. Pathetic.

Please don’t eat me! I’m ready to plead and beg. Ready to give the dragon anything. Riches. Beautiful virgin daughters from the village. A Samsung Galaxy S5. Anything.

You shake your head. Your black scales glistening in the dark.

Just leave me alone you imbecile. Worthless maggot. I just want to sleep and forget that the world is no longer mine. 

I bow my head, not daring to say anything else. I close my eyes staying bent forward, hot breath washing over me again and again. They taper off after thirty minutes and I dare to look up again.

You’re not there. Just a pile of bones. No volcano breath. No halloween-colored eyes.

Did I dream it?

My heart beat slows down to normal and I can breathe again. I laugh at myself and my mouth curls into a grin.

I was just spooked. It can’t have been that bad, right?

Let’s see if I can wake her again….


Author note: I just like dragons, okay?

Advertisements

C is for Courage

Courage, sacrifice, determination, commitment, toughness, heart, talent, guts. That’s what little girls are made off

– Bethany Hamilton.

I slept in a bit today, prioritised rest over a proper breakfast and so I had to eat my breakfast walking to the bus station. It was a peanutbutter and jam sandwich and as I chewed away I had three thoughts.

1. Raspberry jam isn’t as good as strawberry jam.

2. I’m bad at evenly spreading peanutbutter.

3. Tram and train tunnels really remind me of The Walking Dead.

As I threw away the crust in the trash like a child and could finally stick my cold fingers in gloves, I started thinking about courage and freedom.

Continue reading

B is for Books

I took an embarrassing amount of time to think of a word for the letter B. I thought of babies, but I don’t have much to say about that right now. I thought of bananas, but even though I don’t eat them I’m not a banana hating extremist and I don’t have much to say about that either. It could be B for blog but I’ve already talked about my lack of blogging enough times. For some reason the word “books” didn’t cross my mind until last week.

Continue reading