By Lachlan Jones - Year 12, Otago Boys' High School
The dragon begins to wake, and so does Ha Long Bay.
As the moon dips in the west, a reptilian radiant eye begins to squint open in the east.
The bay ripples as the dragon stretches, its green spine protruding from the water.
Sploosh. Whoosh.
Only the sound of collapsing waves and exhaled wind can be heard.
A beautiful stillness captures the landscape.
The faint odour of sea wafts throughout the bay.
Drowsy, the dragon settles down and lets the sleep wash off its limbs.
Ships lie in the bay, resting. They bob in the wind.
The gentle kiss of the sun can be seen peeking over the spine of hills, signalling the birth of a new day.
Under the decks and within the hulls, passengers' slumberous stupors are broken by the sound of opening doors and yawned ''Good Mornings''.
The fragrance of Pho for breakfast lingers in the air.
It leaves the ship, whisked away on the wind, insignificant in the face of nature.
As light finally mounts over the green hills of the dragon's back, the entire bay is bathed in radiance.
It refracts in the water, shattering into a thousand waves and particles of light.
Leaving the claustrophobic confines of the hull, people flock to the deck to gaze in wonder, dumbstruck by the ethereal sight.
Mid morning, as the young sun begins to gently bake the earth, the dragon yawns.
Humans bask on the sandy belly like lizards.
The green of the hills is vibrant. The blue of the water is lush.
Chirping can be heard through the foliage, its atmospheric melody drifting above the water.
Cliffs bleach themselves under the sun.
The bay sways to and fro, picturesque as a postcard.
The dragon unclenches, and the heat stored in its earthy body drenches the land.
The movement sends birds temporarily into the air, a flash of movement disrupting the tranquillity for a frame.
The lazy day has finally begun in full.
Grey fluff forebodingly sits on the horizon. Electricity crackles in its belly. A crow-like omen, its black smudge soils the vivid canvas.
The sky attacks at midday.
The sun is ambushed by violent storm clouds.
Birds disappear. Humans flee on board ships.
Out of nowhere, chaos has emerged, wrapping its tentacles of destruction upon all, squeezing the blood and marrow out of the very earth.
And the dragon's anger and shock explodes out, shaking the world in terror.
A cascade of water glasses the hills, piercing fauna and foliage.
Lightning shatters against the dragon's hide, eliciting a roar like cracking trees.
The water becomes flooded with muddy blood and wooden bones.
The ships have since departed, seeking to escape to the sheltered docks many miles away.
Still, the dragon endures. The bay fights against the roiling storm, muscles tensing, trees straining against the once peaceful wind, now acting so violently.
Eventually, the storm dies down, and the dragon settles. It licks its wounds. And once again, it lies down, yet much more tenderly.
In the late afternoon, the dragon naps. Its flaming eye begins to creep closed in the west.
The clouds have passed overhead, and an alluring mist begins to dissipate off the dragon's emerald spine.
Quietly shifting, the mist distorts the dying light phasing through its depths, turning coils of dragon body into hills, crags and cliffs.
As the dragon falls deeply into its slumber, the day flees on the horizon, and darkness swaddles the bay.
The moon peaks in the east. The dragon sleeps, and so does Ha Long Bay.
