If I were a dragon I think my treasure would be books. Old and new; piled high beneath my scaly wings. I’d perch atop them and select a new one to read each day. I’d keep them dry in my dragon-cave with my fiery breath and keep them safe forever.
If I were a dragon my hoard would be friends. Each person special to my heart protected from danger by my ferocious roar. My bat-like wings would fly them from trouble and curl around to keep them warm.
If I were a dragon I think I would keep a collection of outcasts like gold. All those who think they are not good enough, not strong enough, not enough. I would crown them all as fair princes and princesses and keep them in my tower. Not as prisoners but as new friends.
If I were a dragon I would never hurt a soul. I would collect my books and my friends and my lost souls. I would treasure them all like a parent placing a drawing upon a fridge. They will be my hoard; my cave of wonders. It will be lit with the sparkle of fairy-lights, not gold and gems. It will be kept warm by the heat of love and it will strike fear only into those full of hate.
This is from 3 years ago, so be kind. I have no idea where I was going with this, tbh. It's a cliffhanger for me too.
Lucy was almost certain that someone had a vendetta against her. It was the only explanation for why she was sat on a cold bench in the rain at 3 on a Sunday afternoon. Sunday afternoons were for napping and watching telly with an uncomfortably full stomach. No one was about on a Sunday afternoon, easily exemplified by the empty street around her. A man had walked past about 10 minutes ago but he’d only been going to the corner shop and he’d soon been heading back home. There wasn’t a bus due for another 40 minutes, yet here she was sat in the bus shelter wishing she was anywhere else. Vendetta. Definitely.
That person didn’t actually arrive for another seven minutes, making it a total of 19 minutes that Lucy could have sat inside in the warmth. But no, Cam had said she’d be ‘5 minutes, tops. Please, Luce, please’. Bloody Cam.
It came too quickly.
No warning. No alarms. Just the skitter of too many legs on asphalt and concrete. Feet on windows and pushing in doors.
No one was safe.
I recently turned 28 so I thought I'd look back on the previous year. A concept entirely stolen from much smarter people than me. (FWIW, I originally saw this on the MyHarto YouTube channel)
Here's to 2018, it can only be better than 2017 (the bar is set quite low).
I hope this goes someway to explain why I haven't posted anything in a while. I'm trying, I promise.
I am not better yet.
I may never be completely better.
But I am getting there.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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