Stories from a Bookish Dragon

I've written a few stories in my free time and they usually focus on science-fiction, fantasy, or slice of life elements. Check out some snippets below!

Story Snippets

A stack of leather books is next to a singular book with a pair of black glasses on top.


Brian bounded through the crumbling building, pumping his arms and legs faster and faster. He came to the end of a hallway with a glass window, gritted his teeth, and jumped through.
“Could you, for once, not make your escape so harrowing?”
Brian looked up at the marmoset that piloted the helicopter he was now sitting in and gave a tired chuckle.
“And where would the fun be in that Gary?”
He looked to the bear shaped fortress as it crumbled into the seabed below and felt a twinge of regret. He suppressed it and focused instead on picking glass shards out of his fur.  

Storms of old

 Have they forgotten?
The skies of old held greater
Terror than drizzles

Do they not recall?
Wingbeats of beasts much larger
Screeching into towns

Gral the Imposing
Could spray more lightning than this
Trifle of a storm 

A Seldom Heard Knock

 The man grabs the dragon’s hand as he pulls him inside and softly shuts the door behind him.

The interior of the castle is dimly lit by the light of small fires along the edge of the walls. Most of the living space is filled with rows upon rows of bookshelves. There are tables scattered about the room, each with a different array of open books and loose papers on top of them. A single ink well and feather pen is sitting at the farthest table with evidence that it had been used recently by the dragon.

“Thank you, it was getting pretty bad out there.”, he said.

“Well I figured you’d be stopping by. You always seem to come when the weather gets rough.” The dragon retorted. 

Fear's a State of Mind, Or is it Body?

 And with that the chauffeur got back into the limo and drove away. Alan had heard of anthropomorphic hybrids before, but he had never had the chance to see one. It was surreal to see one first hand and Alan wondered if the rumors about the hospital really were true. Of course, rumors tend to get exaggerated, especially when a rich doctor builds a lavish homestead so close to a small town. But that was Alan’s job after all. He was sent as a journalist from the small town’s paper to dispel any rumors that were cropping up. He looked up at the sign above the building. Dr. Zetton’s Healing Inn. Odd choice for a name, Alan thought. He opened up the front doors and walked inside. The doors closing behind him effortlessly.