Dragon

Soft leathery wings flapping in the air, brilliant mosaic scales, and sharp flashing fangs. The majestic figure was truly awe inspiring.

A courier walked up to it, opened it's maw, and shoved some packages within. The he left, the dragon mailbox, now hoarding its treasure.

Shortly after noon, the owner of the mailbox arrived to pick the packages up. Using its claws, it pressed the switch on the tail, causing the packages to fly out of the back, and land safely within the basket it carried for convenience.

The dragon lifted off with a beat of its wings, and took its mail back to the cave at the top of the mountain. "Ah, online shopping is the best." It said, as it left its mailbox behind.

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.

Friendship

Inside the dorm, there was a sobbing, just barely audible from the hallway. In the other rooms, studying, playing, sleeping, and eating were all underway, but not in room 320.

"I don't understand any of it." Virginia said, weeping openly. "I mean, we had been together for 3 years, and he never said anything about having second thoughts about our relationship. Everything seemed to be going so well, why did he leave me?"

"V, I am so sorry this happened. But you can get through this. I will be here for you, I am here to listen. Talk to me, get it out." Scott said.

"I..." she sobbed, "feel so selfish bothering you with all my problems. You are totally my best friend, and I know it must suck to spend time with a sad sack like me."

"None of that." He replied. "I know that I have been in much the same situation in the past, and you were there for me too. That's what friendship is about. I want to be here for you. I will do everything I can to support you. But I know that more often than not, what is needed is an ear to hear you. A shoulder to cry on. So that's what I am going to do, hear you out. It's ok."

Scott pulled Virginia in for a hug. The warmth of his embrace felt so good, she burst into even more tears. She felt so many things. It felt good that her best friend was supporting her, she was still torn up inside about how Ben had dumped her, and she was angry with herself most of all for believing his lies the last month.

"I thought we were good. I spent time with him, we did what he liked, we had so many things in common. When he told me he had been cheating on me with Jason, I was willing to let it go. I wanted to make it work, but for him to say that he was breaking up with me for him... was I just not enough for Ben?"

"Oh, V. You know these kinds of things aren't about the other person. There is nothing wrong with you. People grow apart, it happens. I mean, you two had been going out since high school. Not many high school relationships last a year into college. But if anyone should feel bad, it's him. It might not have been easier, but he should have told you sooner."

"I just don't know what to do." Virginia said, her tears slowing a little, as Scott continued to comfort her in a hug.

"You don't need to do anything. Just take some time. Allow yourself time to process. That's the best thing anyone can do with something like this." Scott let her go, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small stone. It was beautiful, smooth, colorful, but with a huge crack in the middle. The crack had been filled in with a golden filling before being polished again.

"Take this. It's my lucky stone. It comes from the Japanese tradition of Kintsukuroi. The story goes that in Japan, when a valuable item breaks, they repair it with gold, because in embracing the imperfections, and even highlighting them, the object becomes even more beautiful. The cracks, filled in with the gold, show that even broken things have value. I know things are difficult now. Even if your heart is breaking, you still have value, and you can get through this. I can't guarantee things will get better, but I promise I will be by your side."

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.

Animals

They sat down around the table, which was carefully set with the utensils. A silver platter was placed on the center, between the candles and many side dishes. It was all very well-to-do, being that they were high society.

"Billy, did you have a good day at school?" Martha asked.

"Nah." He responded, "The kids at school suck. I am far more interested in the trampoline, than school." His father looked over at him.

"Now, Billy, you know you need to study hard, if you want to make it like we did. It was your great-great grandfather, bless his beard, that brought us from rags to riches, and you must study or you won't be able to support yourself." He said. Bob did not study very hard, but then again, he had inherited the ranch, which was why the family was so wealthy.

"Anyway, let's dig in, shall we?" Martha said. The servant lifted the lid off the succulent, delicious human prepared on the dish. Truly, a feast fit for only the greatest goats there were.

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.

Dream Catcher

He stalks the darkness, searching for them. They are terrible, frightening, and worth a lot. If he can catch even one tonight, he will be provided enough food to feed someone for a week.

There it was, a lascivious black, with sparkling silver hair, yet with a menacing aura. Beautiful, if not for how aggressive it was. All around it on the ground, sparks of purple and gold, flying like electricity, but not illuminating the area. Otherworldly, the night mare. He readied his net.

The man leapt from his cover, flinging the net wide. In a flash, the nightmare was caught. It struggled and squirmed, but alas, it was caught and could not escape. He pulled out a flute, and started playing a gentle lullaby.

As he played, the mare grew calm. The dark, menacing aura weakening, and the sparks softening until they became a pale mist, dancing in the moonlight. When he had finished, he removed the dream-catcher. He no longer needed it, for this was no longer a nightmare.

He mounted the dream, and rode her to the village. When he arrived, he went to the market, selling the mare, and being offered the food they had set aside for him. He then traveled to the home of the wise man, who had preserved the practice of making the dream-catchers.

"A calm night to you, Dibikad." The hunter said to the wise man.

"I see you have returned from another hunt. Tell me, what did you see?" Dibikad answered.

"The many children who placed the sacred hoops above their beds tonight had a dream of floating on the river." He responded. The elder nodded slowly.

"They may never know the story why, but the tradition brings peace. Do you now leave to go with the spirits once more?" Dibikad asked.

"I have left the horse, and taken the offering given freely. I will move as the wind." He replied, as he turned to leave. "Look to your next vision for when I return."

So the tribe once again had honored the spirits, and their nights were pleasant and calm.

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.

Rocket-ship

Jordan flipped the switches, checked the consoles, and double-checked his seat belt. He had been waiting for this, training for this. G-force testing, underwater 'space walk' simulation, and reading up on the procedures for preparing the ship to blast off.

At last, Jordan would finally be in the seat as the rocket ship took off toward the stars. He listened in to the last instructions for takeoff. Sure that all systems were green, he gave them a signal. He was ready. He heard the countdown, and chanted along with it. There was a low rumble, and he felt the shaking as the rocket prepared to lift off.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1... 

"Jordan! It's time for dinner!" A voice called.

"Abort, abort!" Jordan cried, as he clamored out of the cardboard box. He would see the stars another day, his mac and cheese came first.

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.

Eye contact

Eons. It had been that long since last someone looked upon her and lived to tell about it. She once was marveled at. Once, she was the envy of everyone, loved for her beauty. But now, she was cursed by that same beauty that she had been known for.

Nobody would make eye contact with her anymore. And sure, at first, there was something fun about the power that came with knowing that. And yes, there were times that she was able to use it to her advantage, it wasn't like she really wanted for anything...

And yet, sitting there, she took a furtive glance at a mirror. A feat of courage she rarely had the will to do. Yes, this was the face of a monster. Surely nobody would ever love her again. In that moment, looking in the mirror, assuming that she would be the only one to ever make eye contact with her again, and hating the image she saw, Medusa cried.

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.

Food

A hard day's work, but at last the harvest was complete. It had been a tough year, with the weather being chaotic, and pests springing up at the worst times, but somehow they had managed to do it.

Loading the last of the food into the truck, his son took it out toward the market where it would be sold off to help them last the rest of the year. The money was why they did it, but he wondered if they would be recognized for putting the food on the table.

Elsewhere, another family was sitting down for a meal, eating the same food that had been harvested from a difficult growing season, miles away. The mother sat down, the last to arrive at the table.

"Thank you, God, for providing this food. May you bless it to the nourishment of our bodies. Amen." And just like that, they ate. It was a miracle.

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.