Tag Archives: cold

The Spot Writers – “Dragons Go Out in the Cold” by Chiara de Giorgi

Welcome to The Spot Writers.

The current prompt is a story about something nice and unexpected happening on a gloomy day.

This week’s story comes from Chiara De Giorgi. Chiara dreams, reads, edits texts, translates, and occasionally writes in two languages. She also has a lot of fun.


Dragons Go Out in the Cold

by Chiara De Giorgi


March, 1st

We’ve reached the top of the mountain just before midday. It’s been a wonderful day since sunrise: the sky is clear and blue, not a single cloud is to be seen, and the temperature has been seriously mild, considering it’s still Winter.

We quickly set camp not far from the spring: the water is chilly, crystal clear, pure, and fresh. I love it.

Sam is lighting a fire, I’m supposed to make notes about our surroundings, looking for the best place to spot the dragon, but I don’t need to do that. I already know where we should go, I’ve explored the area quite a few times on my own.

There’s a dragon hiding on these mountains. It’s a handsome beast, huge and massive, with greenish scales all over its body. You can’t imagine how wide its wings look, when it glides from above. I can’t wait for Sam to see for himself.

The only problem is the weather: it’s too good. Dragons go out in the cold.


March, 3rd

No sightings, yet. The sun is shining, the days are gloriously warm, and Sam is getting impatient. The silence, the stillness of this mountain is broken only by the burbling water in the creek and the chirping of the birds.


March 5th

Now I am getting impatient. I believe there never were so many cloudless days in a row! I’d hate it so much to go back without spotting the dragon! People do not believe me. Maybe they wish I were right about the beast: who wouldn’t be excited at the thought that dragons are real? If Sam is unable to corroborate my claim, though… I can already see their condescending smiles, their heads gently shaking. I couldn’t bear it.

Please, please, please: let there be clouds!


March, 6th

YES! Finally!

A strong wind shook our tent early this morning, before sunrise. The weather has definitely changed: grey clouds have been chasing one another across the sky for hours. We barely managed to heat up our coffee before it started to rain: big, fat raindrops that fell almost lazily at first, but soon gained strength and hurt when they hit you.

We spent the day inside the tent. Sam dozed and snored the day away. I was too excited to go back to sleep. As bad as the day was getting, though, it was not bad enough.

As night fell, we ate some dry meat and cereal bars, feeling quite miserable.

I just hope this awful weather gets worse.

March, 6th – later

We heard it! Oh my God, we heard it!

It was too dark to see anything, but the noise was unmistakable.

I shook Sam awake and made him listen. First he heard the flapping: powerful wings beating in the storm. He was already trying to explain the noise away, when the scream came and he went pale. His eyes were huge and his mouth hung open in disbelief. I just smiled and nodded, then mouthed: Dragon.

I hope with all my heart that the sun doesn’t come up tomorrow. We’ll walk to the spot from where we can keep an eye on the cave and he will see.


March, 7th

I’m still trembling.

The day started as gloomy and dark as it could be. We wore our raincoats and climbed up to the cave, then hid behind a rock and lay in wait. Sam had barely spoken one word since last night.

Three hours later, we looked like drowned rats and had not seen nor heard anything. I could see that Sam was becoming impatient, but he was very excited, too. He wanted to see. He wanted to believe.

Then we heard a cracking sound behind us, and suddenly a heat wave hit our backs. We slowly turned and… two baby dragons were watching us! They were slightly smaller than we, had a thick tail and fleshy wings. And they spat fire. Not enough to burn anything, especially under such a pouring rain, but still.

Sam was about to pass out, but I slapped him hard and he came back to himself.

The two babies cackled and hopped towards us, beating their wings in the most peculiar way. At last I understood their meaning: they wanted to play!

I started mirroring their movements and they were delighted, I was so happy that I started to laugh and they laughed back – at least, I think that’s what they did.

We had been at that for a good while, when we felt the air move behind us. We slowly turned and went numb. Mother was there. Sam started whimpering and I elbowed him. He coughed and stopped. I was trembling myself. What would Mother do? The slowest seconds passed, and then the two babies (puppies?) reached Mother, jumping and flapping their wings, shrieking all the time. After a heartbeat of consideration, Mother plunged her huge head towards us, one of her eyes as big as my own head. I swallowed noisily and thought I was going to die in the gloomiest day mankind could remember. But it was not to be. Mother purred, and puffed a wisp of smoke out of her nostrils into our faces. After that, she spread her formidable wings and took flight, her offspring close on her tail.


The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/

C.A. MacKenzie is the author of (among other books) the novel WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama/thriller, available from the author or at various retailers including Amazon [https://www.amazon.com/Wolves-Dont-Knock-C-MacKenzie/dp/1927529387/].

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The Spot Writers – “Frozen in Time” by Cathy MacKenzie

The theme of this week (“I’m so cold my bones have frozen”) is appropriate, as winter temperatures seem to be here forever, at least for author Cathy MacKenzie.  Her most recent publication, BETWEEN THESE PAGES, is a compilation of 18 short stories. The book is available on Amazon and Smashwords:




Frozen in Time

Until Vivian heard her husband’s voice, she wondered if she had actually spoken.

“What?” John said.

Despite the cold, warm relief rushed through her body at his reply. She yearned to touch him, but her arms were bolted to her sides. Icy crisps filled her mouth when she attempted to speak, but she made another attempt.

“So cold. Freezing.”

“You’re always cold,” John said.

“No, it’s truly cold, John. It is. So cold I can barely breathe.” She swallowed more frosty crystals, which melted as they cruelly descended down her throat. John was a raging furnace, especially in bed, unlike Vivian who was continually chilled and craved his warmth on winter nights. A vision of the two of them snuggling in bed formed before her.

Panic set in when he didn’t reply. “Can you hear me? John?”

“I hear you.”

“Cold. Very cold. Where are you?” Vivian said. The arctic hardness weighting her down was colder and longer-lasting than any other she had experienced. She hated the cold, always had.


“I’m here. Can’t see.” Though it took great effort to open her mouth and Vivian felt she should conserve her energy, she had to talk to her husband. Had to know he was near despite the glacial dankness.

Vivian heard a muffled reply. At least she thought she did. Had he spoken? Why couldn’t she see him?

“Can you see me?” she said.

In the muted silence, time remained still. Frozen. Could they be? Or was it just her? Vivian remembered the day—or thought she had. Had she and John gone skiing, as they usually did on the weekends? It was still winter, right? To whom was she talking? Was John there?


“I’m here.”

“What’s happening? Where are we?”

“I…not sure,” he said, hesitation and uncertainty obvious in his voice.

“Are we in a dream? Am I dreaming? I can usually wake myself out of a dream, when I want to. I want to now. But I can’t.”

“Vivian, that’s hogwash. If you can do that, then you’re not really asleep. I’ve told you that before.”

“Just humour me. Try to wake yourself up, John.”

Vivian heard nothing in response but the cold. Could one hear cold? Certain she could, she shivered though tightly encased in her arctic prison. Pressure numbed her ears as liquid trudged down her eardrums.

John was trying to wake up, she knew it. Both of them must awake from the horrid dream they were immersed in. But when had they ever shared the same nightmare? When had they ever discussed dreaming within a dream?

“No, I’m still awake,” John said. “Or asleep. Whatever I am. Nothing’s changed.”

Vivian would have sighed in desperate resignation, had she been able to. But a swallow of another clump of ice crisps was all she could muster.


Silence ruled. Although it seemed a lifetime elapsed, Vivian knew it was merely minutes. How could a life pass by that fast?

“Vivian, you there?” John’s voice sounded weaker.

“Yes…here. But… I’m sinking, John. Sinking somewhere…not sure where… I…” She closed her mouth, then parted her lips. The life sucked from her. Although unable to utter her last words—“I’m so cold my bones have frozen”—she suspected John already knew.


The Spot Writers- our members: 

RC Bonitz

Val Muller

Catherine A. MacKenzie

Melinda Elmore

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Mexico, eh?

Mexico, eh? Wow! Must be nice! The hot weather. Lolling on the beach sipping piña coladas. Collecting those little umbrellas and fancy straws.

Yep, I’ve been in Mexico for two weeks now, and, I suppose compared to Canada, the weather here is nicer than subzero temps and snow shovelling.

But it’s not Mexico weather!

I’m lying in bed, at almost three in the morning, listening to the rain pelt on the clay-tiled roof and hit the luscious private patio next to our bedroom sliding door. The wind is rustling through the trees and hitting the bougainvilleas climbing up the wall across from me, but not loud enough to mask the intermittent thunder. An occasional lightning bolt flashes into our room. Hubby snores beside me.

This isn’t the Mexico I signed up for. Hubby and I haven’t seen the sun in three days, and we’re missing our early morning exercise runs. To those people back home, none of the above beach stuff is existing in my life. For one thing, we aren’t in one of the hot-spot tourist resorts, so we’ll never be lounging beachside sucking syrupy drinks. But that’s quite okay, since Hubby and I aren’t beach people.

Instead, we’re in our second “home” in Ajijic, which my daughter calls the seniors’ place. The weather should be nicer. This is more rain and chilliness in December than Ajijic has had for many years, and everyone is complaining about their cold homes. There’s no such thing here as central heating. Some lucky ones have electric heaters, with the downside of racking up already sky-high electric bills, but in this abominable temperature, no one will mind a few more pesos. Still other luckier ones are cozying up to their gas fireplaces. Hubby and I, well—we have a different tale. We allowed our long-term renters to remain in our house (complete with two gas fireplace and an electric heater), while we rented a house this season. Unfortunately, our rental has neither a fireplace nor an electric heater, and, because of the direction this house faces, the sun, even when it’s shining, doesn’t even begin to heat the place. We’ve been cold since the day we arrived, despite the 20+ temps outside. The only place we can find warmth is sitting in the car with the heater full blast or snuggling in bed. Restaurants with fireplaces are hard to come by, but we’ve been looking. I’ve been to Walmart numerous times to purchase sweaters and long-sleeved tops and fluffy socks.

We did break down yesterday and called our renters to see if we could confiscate our electric heater, if they weren’t using it, of course. “No problemo,” they said. We enjoyed two minutes of heat from it, until it blew up.

When I disentangle myself from Hubby to look at the clock, I bolt upright when I see the time.

“Do you know it’s ten o’clock,” I say.

“Yes,” Hubby replies. “But what’s the sense in getting up when it’s cold and rainy and there’s nothing to do?”  Poor Hubby, who’s usually at work by eight, has been bundled up reading more books in the last few days than he has in his entire life.

I googled Ajijic’s long-range temperature. Looks like we’re in for another week of this stuff, although the temps for each day are increasing in increments of a degree a day. Wow! We might get warm someday!

I hope Ajijic will soon be back to normal, so I can at least pretend to my buddies back home that I am sitting on a beach drinking piña coladas. Because, despite not boasting a Puerto Vallarta beach, Ajijic is “beach” to me when I bask in the sun  or stroll down the malecón or admire Lake Chapala as it spreads toward the mountains.


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