Writing Exercises - Prompts!

I visited a library with a friend today, and wrote something based on given generated prompts: "Dragons", and "Your Environment". Here are the results!

Prompt: Dragon

In a time before time, there was a Dragon.

The Dragon did not know, of course, it was the last of its kind. It did not know it would soon perish, it did not know the legacy it failed to establish.

The Dragon did know that its ancient bones felt comfortable, wrapped around itself, finally rested. It did know its hot breath expanded gently within its ribcage, slowing, but not yet ceasing. It did know its tired eyes felt right, semi-closed, softly gazing at nothing at all.

Beyond itself, the Dragon, who did not know many things, knew the land. Had known the land for centuries, had shaped its topography around itself. The Dragon knew no malice, but knew softness when felt, knew hunger by eating. It consumed the land’s birds with the same pleasure it listened to its songs. And in turn, the birds fled it with the same intensity they huddled around its warm core.

And as the Dragon faded away, it cared not for the birds or land or even its body, for the Dragon did not know death, and it did not fear what it did not know. For this death, the Death of the last Dragon, felt comfortable and natural, like falling asleep at the end of a lullaby, or ending a long sentence with a sigh.

Prompt: Your Environment (Library)

The library was shelter for more than the overcast weather that promised rain.

In it, hundreds of small journeys were happening all at once. A tired college student tapped his laptop keys aggressively, pausing only to fidget with his sweater. An older lady calmly flipped through pages of a yellowed book, with gestures that indicated great familiarity. A mother herded her two children, who were too excited to follow the norms of silence, but nobody minded.

And in front of me, sat a young woman, with curly hair and an artistic demeanor. She concentrated heavily on something I could not see, gripping a pen with spidery hands, jotting notes with surprisingly bubbly handwriting.

A librarian passed by me, locking eyes. I smiled at her, taking strange pleasure in knowing she knows this place better than I do. As I glanced curiously at every shelf and every faded chalk sign, her body seemed to walk faster than her mind, hands working efficiently through the broad corridors, seemingly invisible to other passerby. In her element, I thought, wondering what she looked like in different environments, thinking if I managed to look that capable anywhere.

As the rain started to fall, pitter-pattering the large glass windows, I settled in, ready to forget time for a while.

In this shelter for more than just the weather, there are hundreds of small journeys happening all at once— and thousands of worlds to visit in between pages.