An old ink drawing from uni.
I would not go in there.
The Forest
The Tunnel
It was so dark in this tunnel, but still he pressed onwards.
He could not sit and rest, as the walls and floors were covered in something corrosive. He could feel the impression of the ground beneath his feet as the soles of his shoes slowly wore through. It was soft, so he imagined green moss as he walked through the darkness. In the light, he thought, this tunnel would be filled with moss and flowers. It would explain the humidity.
He could see light ahead, jagged beams shooting through barbs. Stalactites and stalagmites, he reasoned. He could break enough to get out, then he would need to find his way back to the car. He had parked a fair hike from the cave, but he was sure fresh air would give him enough strength.
The ground was even softer now, shifting beneath his feet. He could feel a breeze blowing in, cool and refreshing. Then he felt another breeze from behind him, warm and rank.
Finally he was at the entrance. He pushed forward, trying to to slip on the wet and shifting ground.
At last at the barrier he realised, with mounting horror, that his way was blocked by teeth. He had yet to fully realise what this meant when the giant tongue moved beneath his feet.
Changeling
Ebony Cull, caught mid-shift. Her true face is on the right.
She is changeling npc from my current D&D campaign and is the worst. Her name is a euphemism for the black death, which really shows her priorities.
Since it’s October, I will be putting something up on this blog every day. As I don’t always have the energy to write, you can expect some more art to pop up from time to time.
Locked
It was not Phillip’s job to pay attention to the guests.
His sole duty was to patrol the grounds surrounding the house and prevent anyone from passing through the gardens.
He tried not to pay attention to who arrived, how they were dressed, or how many entered through the large doors.
Despite his attempts to ignore the guests, Phillip heard their laughter as they approached the house. He saw the invitations held tightly in the hands of beautiful people and heard laughter and familiar conversations about who would be there and how long the party might go for.
He had done this job for decades, night after night. His pay had not risen in all that time. The same amount delivered as a cheque in his mail box every day, regardless of whether the post had arrived. He never saw who delivered it.
It was 7:02 and Phillip made certain that he was around the side of the house, hidden from view by the immaculately trimmed bush. He heard her laughter, heard the scuff of shoes on gravel as she nearly tripped in unfamiliar heels. If he stepped out, she would greet him cheerfully. She would be wearing her mother’s red dress and the necklace he bought her for her birthday. But he refused.
His daughter had been invited to the party.
Read More »Familiar
Do not follow strange creatures
Do not listen to their call
A friendly form with sweet promises
Will soon have you enthralled
Her mother warned of familiars
Of a witch’s faithful servants
creatures that heeded wicked orders
and stole children from their parents
The girl followed the small black cat
She had never walked so far from home
Though she did not recognise the route
It was better than walking alone
It led her to a small house
Made of something sweet
The cat pushed open the door
and sat at the witch’s feet
Between work and forced feeding
The days passed in a blur
But the girl had a friend
That whispered beneath a purr
The day finally came
The witch stoked the coals
Waiting for the oven to heat
The girl knew her role
The cat rubbed against the witch’s legs
A move the witch ignored
At last, it was time to cook
And she opened the oven door
The cat remained still
braced against withered feet
The girl pushed as she was told
and the witch fell to the heat
The cat pushed open the door
and told the girl that she had only dreamt
It knew better than to keep the child
For familiarity breeds contempt
Spiral
He ascends the stairs once more
Following the familiar path
Counting another flight
Turning clockwise out of sight
The number does not matter
He has nowhere else to go
He follows the path’s bend
But the ascent does not end
He stands on another landing
A very brief respite
He considers refusing to go
But footsteps can be heard below
The briefest pause on the bottom step
But fear overtakes his resolve
A man follows the eternal flight
As he ascends, he comes back into sight
Two Sentence Stories (Part 13)
I had wished to be safe from all physical harm. Immobilised in soft restraints in an endless void, my last sane thought is that I probably should have included mental harm too.
There is a face pressed against my bedroom window. This would be scary in and of itself normally, but it is held aloft by a hand, not a neck.
When I told my parents that I trapped a monster in a chest, they pretended to believe me, even giving me a padlock to keep it shut. It was months later that they finally got around to clearing out the attic and found the bones, safely locked away.
Non Attendants
There is a booking tonight
An urn of coffee is heating
Biscuits are plated beautifully
But no one attends the meeting
There is some conversation
Like voices in the distance
Shadows move under the lights
But no attendees are in existence
No one recalls the appointment
The last to leave does not even glance
Just turns off lights in an empty room
Which are turned back on by unseen hands
They do not quite recall each other
Smiling at strangers each time they meet
Still, it is nice to see those who see them
and it will be just as nice the same time next week
Jumanji
I’m on holiday from tomorrow with friends, so no regular post on Saturday.
I am, however, organising a game of Jumanji for my friends to play using GURPS (the Generic Universal RolePlaying System), so I though you might enjoy the ominous couplets that I’m adding in!
This was inspired by the Film Reroll podcast, which I do recommend listening to if you get a chance. Just pick your favourite childhood movie and listen to a group of friends erect a joyous circus on its foundations.
You’re about to meet a new friend
With smile large enough for your entire head
A million stomachs in congregation
Will soon devour your foundation
Make a deal, make a bargain
Offer a gift and you may roll again
Some idols don’t want what’s best for you
Look into its eyes, see what it asks you to do
They grow so fragrant and bright
See if you can still take flight
Don’t worry about their poison
It’s venom that does you in
Try not to sleep just yet
You don’t know what you’ll forget
Reinforcements have arrived!
Only one round will they survive
It is so beautiful, so bright
Attractive to all in sight
You already knew you were in trouble
Hope you know how to avoid the rubble
A thousand now take flight
Watch out for their bite
There is someone at the front door
A helpful guest, I am sure
It’s all a bit messy – time to vanish
Choose one effect to banish
Of course you are not the first to play
Meet your predecessor, in a state of decay
Narcissus Reversed
There is a hall of mirrors somewhere
Not where it should be, but there all the same
It waits patiently to see who shall visit
who to reshape and remake in their gilded frames
A stranger now wanders amongst them
Reflected, elongated and compressed
They follow their shifting form throughout
They are amused if not very impressed
They have inspected the mirrors
Reflections to amuse or abhor
Certain they have seen all on offer
But the worst hangs upon the exit door.
The one mirror they must pass to leave
And within is absolute perfection
The stranger stands, entranced and ashamed
Staring at their much-improved reflection
There is no argument to be made
The stranger has no reason at all
Why they should be allowed to leave
While a better version remains in the hall
The world would be so disappointed,
Says the image with kindness and grace
For the stranger to return home
When a better version could take their place
A stranger exits the hall alone
Confident and sure in their selection
The only right choice had been made
And the halls have a new misshapen reflection
Sketched Text 