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Becoming a writer, especially a creative writer, should only be done when you truly love the written word. What makes writing so different from other jobs? Well… you’ll write a hell of a lot of words without getting paid before you might possibly eventually get somewhere. So, you’d better love what you’re doing.
If there were two minutes left, what would you do? Nora mulled it over as she looked out over the city. The bonfire roared in the middle of the central square. The flames blazed up, snapped and danced as erratically as her own temper.
Nora’s long fingers stroked Bentley’s neck. The warmth underneath its scales gave away the impatience simmering inside its body. It craned its neck and its jaw snapped.
‘We’ll get there soon, Ben. It has to be done.’ The bonfire reflected in Bentley’s eyes. They were as big as Nora’s fist by now. They’d grow bigger, she was sure.
From a distance a loud cry sounded. Nora placed her foot on one of Bentley’s leathery wings and pulled herself up. She clenched her thighs around the dragon’s neck and took a firm hold of two large scales.
The cry was followed by the sound of a horn. Nora whistled and Bentley started moving, its great talons clawing through dirt and stone alike. Continue reading “Griar’s Fate (Short Story #2)”