The Book Dragon, Part II

As the breeze died, torn pages slipped sideways, before coming to settle among the gravel. Beyond the cave’s aperture lay an inky void that gently drew in the surrounding air.

Lorenzo dismounted and patted Midnight once behind her left ear, a tacit command to stay put. Upon approaching the entrance to the dragon’s lair, he noticed a pattern in the gravel not unlike footprints. But whose? 

Bending to one knee, Lorenzo placed a hand inside one of the indentations, and let his gaze wander. There at the end, he saw a faint blue shimmer at ground level: a magical barrier.

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The Book Dragon, Part I

Lorenzo scanned the horizon, tilting his metal helmet’s visor with the back of an armored hand. His dark eyes widened as they lit upon a shadow ducking just behind a cloud in the distance. 

From the top of the green hill, he sat astride a great black mare, and all at once kicked it into motion with his heels. 

Midnight launched forward and sped across a grey moor, as the shadow sank into the side of a mountain.

Approaching the mouth of a cave, Lorenzo drew his sword, lowered the visor back into place, and slowed Midnight to a halt.

Hello world!

Apollo’s eyes opened on a new day.

He felt as much of his joints and extremities as of his parting lashes, which is to say nothing at all.

Still, he flexed them as he would normally, and turned from the speckled void.

The sun rose over Earth, gilding Lake Victoria.

Dash

Beneath a waxy leaf, a borrower crouched.

She watched the gargantuan tabby carefully, pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, and plotted.

The plan was to run to the other side of the field and scale the beans’ mailbox, but then this large fellow showed up.

Tossing the acorn from her pack served both to lighten her load, but also to distract the cat.

She had no time to see if it worked, so dashed and flung it as far as her thin arms would allow.

Halfway to the post, she felt a wave of hot breath from behind.

Style Guide

When I was a kid, I knew I wanted to be a writer.

I had (and still have) an infatuation with books, perhaps because of the limitless possibilities that lay inside.

My dad always nurtured my interests, but in interesting ways. One year, he gave me a collegiate-level writing style guide for my birthday.

My mom would take us to the library to borrow stacks of books, and she must have known my affinity for empty journals, because I had more notebooks than I knew what to do with.

Today, I develop websites, but it pays for my reading habit.