Archive

Tag Archives: fairy tale

Story no. 49. THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES. The last three weeks have involved two new jobs, a housing search (now concluded with a one-year lease signed), and a lot of existential dread, thus the delay. I am mildly optimistic that things will get more regular soon. I made good progress on the illustration for part three when I had a friend over for a painting party this Saturday, so you can check out some WIP photos on my Instagram.

llustration to follow. You can read parts onetwo, and three of this story while I paint furiously.

If you’d like to support this project, I have a Patreon! $1/month gets you art process posts; $3/month gets you extra stories and illustrations. There are also links to my Kofi and Paypal on the right-hand side of the page, if that’s more your style. 


 

In Lathustra, a door hidden in the wallpaper would almost certainly lead into an even smaller worlda fold inside a bit of lint shoved in your coat pocket, if you will. The most notorious of these is a cubby behind a mirror Mr. Jenkins has over his dresser, which can tip you into a fragment of reality where everyone you know is sitting in a train station wearing a bowler hat and eating a jelly donut.

In this pocket world, however, the dusty passage beyond the little door didn’t seem particularly magical. I could feel spell fragments stuck to the boards here and there that must have fallen off previous users of the corridor, but the wood itself smelled perfectly ordinary, if a bit rotten.

Read More

Advertisements

Story no. 48. This one is rapidly becoming far more involved than I intended. Drat. Whatever, I’m running with it. 

Astute fans and observers will notice that I have not yet put up the podcast episode for this week (yes, I know, shame on me, shame shame shame.) That is because I wanted to read this story, such that the podcast listeners can have a continuous experience! So look for that recording later today or tomorrow. 

Illustration to follow. In the meantime, you can read parts one and two of this story.

As always: If you’d like to support this project, I have a Patreon! $1/month gets you art process posts; $3/month gets you extra stories and illustrations.


woes of aunt thompson THREE small copy

The valley grew colder and damper as we followed Aunt Thompson down the path. The gables and spires of the houses in the valley rose ever higher over our heads. I tried to work out if it was just the change in perspective that was making them look like that, or if the houses were actually growing. (That’s the kind of bullshit that houses in Lathustra get up to, anyway.)

The stony path turned into a stony road and then into a slippery cobblestone street that cut its way between dense rows of houses. Down this low, the bricks were blackened with soot or mud or something else equally unpleasant. Bill’s not terribly good with regular physics, and he couldn’t keep his claws beneath him on the slick paving. After he’d fallen for the sixth time, Aunt Thompson picked him up and stuffed him under her arm.

Read More

Story no. 40, the seventh and FINAL part in my retelling of Beauty and the Beast. If you are just finding my blog now, you probably want to read part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, and part six first. Friends, I don’t even have words for how excited I am to have this finished so you can all read it! 

I have more exciting plans for this novella, but I will wait until I’ve got a bit more done to talk about them here. 

If you’d like a print of this story’s illustration, you can find that here

If you want to support me or this project, I have a Patreon


the_forest small

The studio was a flurry of people coming and going and yelling at each other when Khirkara arrived. It had been a real struggle not to just lie down on the floor in the apartment and sleep, and the world tilted off its axis if he didn’t focus on staying upright.

Eleth actually waved a hand at him when he walked past the costume shop. “Khirkara! I’m using those embroideries from your research folder for the court scenes! They’re really shaping up well . . .” He held up a beautiful half-jacket of black damask, the front points stiffened with knotwork in silver thread.

Khirkara smiled at him and mouthed a compliment, feeling both gratified and bewildered. Those designs are from the wrong century, he wanted to say. And that knot was only ever popular in Rathsgar. Isn’t the movie set in Rathskun now?

He had clearly labeled all of his research folders with the period and region of the information contained inside, using red plastic clips and a bold shorthand on each page in case it got separated from its parent document. There was no way that Eleth could have missed those tags.

The movie was outside of time, he thought, breathing deeply through his nose. It would be very pretty. Read More

Story no. 39, the penultimate sixth part in my retelling of Beauty and the Beast. If you are just finding my blog now, you probably want to read part one, part two, part three, part four, and part five first.

If you’d like a print of this story’s illustration, you can find that here

If you want to support me or this project, I have a Patreon


FADE FROM BLACK to a grassy hill near shortly before sunrise. The sky is pale blue. The land rises in front of the camera, blocking the long view of the plains. The yellowish plants are tipped with frost. It is still early spring, but the weather is beginning to break.

The SHEPHERD’S MOTHER crosses onto the screen, a lamb under each arm. She looks less feeble than the last time we saw her, when the SHEPHERD showed her the head of the sheep slaughtered by the Beast. It appears that the year of his absence has been a good one for her; her face is fuller and browner, and her gray hair is more neatly braided.

She disappears over the hill. The camera pans to the left, where the SHEPHERD is kneeling next to a small fire, a bundle in his arms.

Cut to the SHEPHERD in profile. Behind him we can see many white lumps huddled in the grass: sheep who have yet risen for the day. The bundle in his arms is another lamb, head poking out of a piece of fabric, probably a torn cloak. He is vigorously toweling off the lamb. It bleats sporadically and indignantly. The BRACELET of brambles around his wrist is visible as he holds the lamb with first one arm, then the other. Read More

Story 36, part three in my retelling of Beauty and the Beast. If you are just finding my blog now, you probably want to read part one and part two first. At this point I am expecting this story to take two or three more installments to finish up, so I guess it’s more of a novella?

If you’d like a print of this story’s illustration, you can find that here

If you want to support me or this project, I have a Patreon


treeee web

Now the beast led Heleth’s son,

This time to the very heart of the wood.

To a castle, once goodly and fair,

Now knocked one stone from another

Until only a single tower stood.

The trees wrapped its stones in their embrace,

The vines sought the warmth of its hearth.

This was the home of the beast.

They walked on a path made between

The white flowers of the snow,

For the beast’s only gentle acquaintance

Was with the green-growing things.

“Beast, will you not speak to me?”

asked Heleth’s son.

“I have done all you have asked me to do.

Why do you not speak?”

The trees rumbled and cracked,

Voices came from deep within.

“Do you not know that the Beast has no words?”

“They have been taken from her.”

***

Khirkara wasn’t sure if he’d really been walking in the wrong direction, or if the old man was leading him in a bizarre, looping route to confuse him about the actual location of the house and its occupant. Or maybe his mother had covered far more distance than he had thought possible in her semi-delirious state. It was impossible to say, and it didn’t seem like a good time to question the rigid shoulders rapidly moving away from him.

Read More