Fiction Reading: The Egg

A long long time ago, I wrote a post for the writers who view my blog, a 30 Day Writing Challenge for them to have a whirl at, and see if it could get the juices flowing. I myself also had a crack at it, seeing as they were my writing prompts. And well, here is one of them. A messy and rather diary-like 500 (ish) word piece based on the writing prompt – ‘write about finding a dragon egg’. I’m not proclaiming it will be any good, but it has been hovering around my writing folder on the computer for so long, I no longer have any clue what to do with it. So I am sharing it with you lovely people.

The Egg

I found it in my garden. Down at the bottom where the grass never gets mowed and has gotten so long that things can get lost in it. I don’t know how it got there, perhaps it fell out of a tree, or was dropped by a bird that had wanted it for lunch. But there it was, small and fragile, a brown egg, laying in the dirt. It was far too big to be some sort of chicken egg, more like the size of an ostrich egg, maybe even bigger. But it couldn’t possibly be a baby ostrich, there was no zoo near home.

I took it inside, it needed to stay warm whatever it was so I wrapped it in blankets and put it by the fireplace so that the flames might warm it and make it comfortable. I kept it there for weeks on end, cosied up in a little basket by the fire until late one evening I heard a tap tap tapping coming from the basket. And out of the shell poked a tiny head with scales and spikes on top of its head. It was a deep burgundy colour and its eyes were a fiery orange.

The dragon, I have found, likes to listen to stories. It sits on my shoulder or in my lap whilst I read a book aloud to him. I think it’s a him, though of course I have no way of knowing. He sleeps a lot of the day and is most active at night. He can’t fly yet but his little wings beat furiously as he leaps from chair to chair around my sitting room.  

Oh and he’s especially drawn to fire – anything with a flame and he’s got his face right up close to it. The lightbulbs confuse him though, they look like fire but he can’t get to it. I’ve tried giving him a wash in the sink but that was a trial. He hates water and growled when I tried to put him in it.

He’s now the size of a kitten, he can fit into my palm quite nicely if he curls up. Though he acts more like an excitable puppy, leaping around my feet wherever I go. It’s difficult even to walk to the kitchen to get a drink. I’ve found he likes meat very much. I bought a few steaks from the butcher, after I noticed him eating my leftover pizza from the coffee table. He seems content for now, but I wonder how I will manage to feed him once he has surpassed the size of a dog.


Picture Credit: Found on Pinterest here.

2 thoughts on “Fiction Reading: The Egg

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