Reading Game of Thrones

I started reading Game of Thrones. The opening chapter was amazing, then it slowed down a little until they introduced dire wolves. I always enjoy reading about mythological creatures or ancient creatures who were much more powerful than the puny animals known today. If anyone know any good movie or book with mythological creatures such as dragons, goblins, unicorns, trolls, minotaurs, etc. plz let me know.

Dead dire wolf and her puppies being picked up by the Starks.


3 thoughts on “Reading Game of Thrones

  1. I’ve not much to say either way about dragons or unicorns, but when you’re chest-deep in the shit, wading up the Congo during the darkest hour of the longest night, your mind begins making you believe that there are worse things in the jungle than Interahamwe guns or Mbengan darts. When you’ve got your worthless pre-WW2 rifle held up over your head to prevent the blasted mud from jamming it and a bowie-knife clenched in your teeth, every movement in the bushes or any bird-call in the canopy conjures up a sinister demon or an unspeakable monstrosity. A dark shape moves in your peripheral vision and before you know it, you’re staring down your rifle’s sights, madly looking in the pitch black for a target to shoot, all the while your own urine mixes with the mud. As your finger begins to squeeze down on that trigger, a silent scream dies in your throat.

    The first bullet is leaving the chamber and now you’ve broken the seal. The night is lit up, bright as dawn with gunfire. Nothing will sleep in this jungle tonight. Sanity loses its tenuous grasp as men bump into one another, and then the knives and machetes are drawn. Gore is your sole companion, death your savior, and you only know calm when you’re bathing in the blood of another. Clawing fingers grasp your shoulder and you turn, knife in hand, to slash at your unseen predator. A bullet howls past your ear as you stab at a dark shade before you. Your ears are ringing but you still hear the growls and slavering tongues of the monster just beyond the point of your blade. Blood-drunk, you plunge forward to slay the beast. The last thing you remember is the pathetic whimpering of a man, but you couldn’t say if it came from your own throat.

    You wake up wrapped in a blanket of flies. The river has washed away the blood, but not the stink. You knuckle your eyes and focus, only to see the carnage of the night before. Everyone but you is plainly dead, but their wounds are too clean. One lies dead with a bullet in the chest. Another with a neat red line across his throat where a knife had sliced the jugular. One sorry corpse lies face-down with a dozen stab wounds in the back. But no trace of bones crushed by a beast’s jaws or the messy rending of a demon’s claws. No sign of feeding. A howl emanates from the jungle behind you, perhaps the warning call of a distant monkey. You stumble into the river, and bend down to quench your sudden thirst. Only then do you see the monster, a fleeting reflection in the muddy water.

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