I laid with the girl who breathed like a fish on the shore waiting for death. The breath filled my ear as I desired removal. Strong like a creature that dwells in forgotten stories. In a cave, her breath was strong as I laid against the belly of a dragon. Resting my head, the creature reminded me the goal isn’t to live forever but to create something that does.
The children were no larger than the dreams of man but breathed fire like their wise mother whose breath now became somber. They approached me without fear and climbed me like music. No words needed to be uttered. They were love and they were thankful for my stories. For keeping them alive.
Then the girl asked me if I wanted tea and I hated her for that. I told her I needed to go and write about dragons.