I’ve been tagged by Ariel in a meme called ‘Look‘. If you, too, are tagged, do a search for the word ‘look’ in your work in progress. Copy that paragraph, along with surrounding paragraphs, to your blog
, to keep the game afloat. Don’t forget to tag others (I’m sure Ariel has noticed this, but I tend to terminate chain memes).
This is an except of my original story Dragon Ranch (unedited). Cheers.
And dragons were exactly why Chris wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world, but walking out into the summer night, a pliant bucket helm under his arm and Sorja’s voice in his ears.
Not that he was leaving anything other than sleep in his bed. Three years past his second decade and he still hadn’t found a girl nice enough to keep in his bed past the act that got her there in the first place. A few dalliances here and there throughout his teenage years; the girls appreciated his looks, but dismayed at his social status. He wasn’t searching for a wife, not at all, but it would have been nice to have someone to spend time with in the morning, or even a few hours after they hit the sheets. Every time though, the girls would excuse themselves and he would realize, he really didn’t mind that they left. The parting was cordial, and no awkwardness on Chris’ part happened afterwards. A few of the other men envied his detachment and freedom, but to Chris, there just wasn’t anything there to attach to. There was a mutual interest in sex and that was all. Perhaps it was his hormones playing around in his head, but sometimes it wasn’t just the women that drew his eye; some of the men were attractive too. However, that revelation he kept to himself. Same sex dalliances did not happen. Not ever. So, for now, Chris contented himself with pouring all his love and attention into the beasts that gave him a home and a purpose. One of which was making a real proper nuisance of herself.
There were a few reasons for her noise and that was what had Chris worried as he climbed to the base of the mountain. Best-case scenario, Sorja had woken up and spooked at a shadow. Either she was now cowering in the corner of her cave, big eyes and shivering scales, or she had stumbled and hurt herself. Chances were she wasn’t hurt; if she were, she wouldn’t be bellowing, but whimpering. Sorja did have some survival instincts still in her. A shadow was simple to deal with, shine a torch into the spot and the dragon calmed down on her own. Last time, she even had the decency to be sheepish and apologize in her halting broken Common.
I’m actually trying to break myself of the habit of using the word ‘look’ so prolifically. So this was a good way to see how bad my habit was.