Vignette (the one with the picture)

Ive never been flying, much less on a dragon. He thought to himself while trying to sleep in camp. Awake before his time for watch. The bard and the drow were on watch at the moment, dozing off.
He shuffled from his bedroll and walked over to the half-asleep wathmen.
"Aye... ye be wakin' now? tis me tern te watch." He said in hushed tones to wake only the two friends.
 "Thanks, Rugaan" They both mumbled and crawled over to their conviently placed bedrolls . Rugaan chuckled to himself and sat down by the fire. He watched over his friends, with thoughts of flying dragons, untill the morning came.

Writing practice1

The apocolypse spread through the world, caring about none. Not avoiding wealth, class, health, or race. A great equalizer, only intent on death and reanimation of the world. It destroyes everything in its path.

A red baloon flew into the air from the dead hand of a child just taken by virus. Its emaciated frame laying cold on the ground, gouged from many bites and claws from things that could not have a shread of humanity.
Slowly, the small child began to rise from the ground with limbs that shouldn't even move. With ill-intent in its gouged eyes, not completely in their sockets, the small girl hobbled around. Her only thoughts, which should only be of play and fun, were of blood and hunger for flesh.

A gun shot through the silence.
A man of mid-twnty's, handgun cluched in his shaking hands, rushed past the girl. Focused on getting out of this alive. Focused on surviving. He had to run, to save his wife and children. If he didn't save them, then they would surley die, and he would truly have nothing.