The Writer's Cramp 11-10-20 W/C 310
“I am in meditation. I have to clean my mind. There has been a lot of fire going out lately. It drags down the soul.”
My mind tried to wrap around the fact there was a small green dragon sitting in my living room. A dragon sitting on a red cushion in front of the cold fireplace. Incense and candles burning on the brick hearth. No other lights were on.
“Who let you into my home?”
“I let myself in. I apologize for the dog door.” The dragon resumed its chanting.
I paced the floor. This chanting didn’t calm me. It made me nervous. It was like a magic spell or something.
“Do you want some tea?”
The dragon sighed. “Really? Lady, don’t interrupt a dragon in the middle of chanting. You’ve been warned. No, no tea.”
I backed away from the crazy green reptile. It continued to chant. I made tea.
The night dragged on. I fell asleep on the couch.
Soon it was morning. I awoke to the sound of silence. No green dragon sat on the red cushion. It had disappeared sometime in the night. I searched the house but no signs of a dragon. My dog cowered in his cage. All the dog food was eaten, even food in the bag kept in the pantry.
The dog door was singed, plastic melted. Where had the little beast gone?
I sat down at the table, drank the cold tea from last night.
Suddenly the dragon burst through the dog door.
“Hi there! Sorry, but I forgot something.” It grabbed a box of matches. “Thanks, I need to relight. I forgot these earlier.” Then it was gone back out the dog door.
“You’re welcome!” I shouted after it left.
Now I pondered how to add the title of ‘Dragon Handler’ to my resume.