I've Spent 7 Years Taking Care of a Dragon

It's been seven years to the day since I regrettably took this job. I have become a hermit - clichéd character and all. My mind is about to forget how exactly human beings are supposed to look like. The amount of people I've interacted with since my enclosure began can be counted on the four mangled fingers of my left hand - and I'd have many digits to spare.

Seeing as I'm already upon the final quarter of my contract, the freedom of the real world almost at hand, I can safely say that taking care of a dragon for a living isn't nearly as interesting as the title might suggest. This is a life of boredom the lengths of which I could've never fathomed. All the stories I heard about this creatures were lies; utter lies. They're not even cool to look at.

Three days ago, the parcel man became my saviour. He rang the bell a few days back, a cardboard box on hand. Inside I found my latest purchase: a book filled with 365 writing prompts.

My journey has begun with a reminder of my loneliness. Even with a start as dry as this one, my eighth year as a dragon carer is shaping up to be the best one yet. Competition ain't very steep in that regard though.