I have a Wednesday night writing group. We do prompts, and drabbles, and it’s a good time. Everyone comes out with something so different! They’re short snippets – the drabbles are only supposed to be 100 words (eventually I got there!), a warm-up for the later prompt. I’m trying to remember to post my favourites as I go.
The First Dragon had died. Dragons do not stop growing, and he carried eons within him. He became more weathered, slower in his thoughts and words. Every thought was a deep, slow thought, because with so much memory, and so much wisdom, a thought had to travel a long way.
Eventually he passed from the world, as all things must. He felt relief, for who could follow him through such thoughts? He had been lonely.
Dragons also do not decay. The inkwyrms, those who prepared the dead, who recorded the words, deeds and songs of the dragons who died, took up their needles and their drills. He had outgrown his scales, and that was fortunate. There was a lot of ground to cover, and prying up scales takes time.
Underneath, he was just soft enough for them to begin their work.
They would record each of those long, slow thoughts on this good skin.
Post-Drabble Thoughts: do dragons only start out as fire elementals, and end as stone elementals? That is how planets are born: they begin as fire, and end as stone, with their history buried in their skin.
(yes, I’m taking some artistic liberties with astrophysics. Hush.)
Nothing if not verbose 