Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Later I found where she lived. I found her name, her family, her extracurricular activities, the sweet sixteen cheerleader. Some days I go to her after-school job and order meals from her, throwing them away untouched when I finally leave.
There will be a feast soon enough.
The hunters are searching. I watch the news as they report the latest findings and issue their warnings to those who have not yet gone missing.
I have seen her more and more frequently, even when I am not following her; I know this is a sign. She will not be like the others. Loving or living, I ask them; Live, they say, oh please let me live. They misunderstand the question. It’s not a choice, it’s the reason they die. Do they know the honor that I allow them, to let my love for them live on forever? One of them answered differently. –Love, she said, and my heart swelled to crack ribs until I saw her slowly unbutton her blouse. That one disappointed me. Love is not grunting bouncing absurdist puppets; a Loved One never gives herself freely. The harder they fight, the more passionate my devotion.
I left her cold and unloved at the bottom of a gully.
I have been watching this one for twenty-six days.
The moon is still gibbous but I can feel the pull as it swells to a great all-seeing eye. I can feel the song start in my throat, an acolyte’s reverence, but it is too soon. I will wait and when the moon is full, she will finally feel the strength of my ardor. She will know what it is to be chosen and idolized. When she feels the full crushing weight of the honor that I give her—immortality through my love—then the pain will be understood as necessary for the refining.
The moon loves the song of suffering.
Four days before the moment, four days until I bind her up in her cap of red. I want to touch her hair; I will let it spill through my fingers even after she has Become. I will take time with this one. My loving will take a great deal of time before the end.
Four days yet until the waxing moon culminates in our consummation, but there she is now on the side of the road. Poor baby’s car hood gaping wide, that hair lifted by the autumn wind. Will I stop? When she sees me will she know what destiny holds for us? I should drive by, but the siren tendrils gesture toward me, beckoning me, and I find myself pulling my truck up behind her. The slam of the door and crunching gravel warned her of my approach. When I see her lean out from behind the hood, I feel the fur prickle on my hands and the hot wet taste of copper runs through my mouth.
--It just stopped, she says, gesturing toward the car. --I don’t know what’s wrong.
When I speak I am afraid it will be a growl, but my voice does not betray me. –Where were you headed?
--My grandma’s. My parents and brothers left earlier, but I had to stay for after-school practice. Can you fix it?
--Maybe, I say, and summon up a smile that shows her my sharp, white teeth. It makes her nervous, this sweet child before me, but she does not drop those big watching eyes. I bend over the engine and study it but in reality am listening to her breathing, the slide of fabric as she folds her arm and shifts her weight. The thought of how she will sound in four days, this precursor now to the time we will spend together, very nearly undoes me. I am dizzy and grip the car and close my eyes, and then there is a jolt and I know nothing.
I cannot move and I cannot see anything around me, but I hear her voice.
--Four days, she says. –Four days. Then we’ll have some fun.
I am chained, bound in nylon cording. I can feel her move closer. –I love this, she whispers, and I understand. Wolves do not always dress as sheep when hunting; sometimes they dress as a girl with hair red as desire, red as love, red as blood.
Even before this wolf feels the first cut, he starts to howl with joy.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
For this year's gallery, I have decided to enter a collection that hails from the industry I currently work in. Yes, it was done completely with commonly used scrapbook supplies. While on the surface, this collection a la scrapbook doesn't seem very frightening, once you understand the brutal and competitive nature of some people in the industry, you understand there are dark things hiding behind such an seemingly happy and playful display. I'd be afraid if I were you.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Didn't get the image I had in mind too far off the ground, but since the theme is portraits, and most folks seem to find medical illustration kind of macabre anyway, here is one of my images on temporomandibular joint disorders. Not exactly creepy scary, but it sort of fits.
It's not as good as I'd hoped, and it's obviously not what I'd hoped to do, but here ya go.
As much as anything, this is a test to see what I can do to be a little easter egg in the Widow stretching portrait. Not easy for me to take a live person and marblize them though. I'm guessing some of the other guys could have done it easy -- I'm gonna have to think about it some more
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
So the deal with this one, since it's not particularly creepy or
scary, or even halloweenish, it's a copy of a painting from the main
set of the 60s tv version of the Addams Family. So I think it still
fits the criteria. I felt I needed it to hang in my own house, so it's
actually pretty huge: 31x24 inches. I'm not sure who this giraffe is
to the Addamses, but if I had to guess, I'd say his name is Pongo
Zarafa. Or maybe it's Lawrence. Hmmmm.
Monday, October 22, 2007
So here they are.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
The Chiang Shih is the Chinese version of the vampire. Often called the hopping corpse, The Chinese believed that the monster was blind which could be used to the victim's advantage when attacked. It was also believed that a Taoist monk could attach a strip of yellow paper with a spell written on it to the monsters forehead to keep it from rising again.
for more info please visit: http://www.monstropedia.org/index.php?title=Chiang-shih
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Coming from me… Of course we’d get a He-Man character… Of COURSE!!!
And of course it would be a buxom EVIL pretty girl… Of COURSE!!!
Y’see, I figure Disney will end up owning He-Man too someday, as they seem to own just about everything else, from Muppets to Pixar. They’ve even got their fingers in STAR WARS!
So when that day comes, they can use this painting of Shokoti, the Evil Ancient Witch of Eternia to hang in their Haunted Mansion, the He-Man version, complete with Skeletor and his ghouls to spook you through the ride.
Hey what else would you expect from me? J
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
As entries come in, I will add them to the Gallery wall. They will be posted in the order received.
This year's theme is: The Gallery of Terror. This means you may exhibit anything that looks like it should belong hanging in the gallery of an old spooky mansion. Portraiture, landscape, and still life are all very acceptable, topics, as well as anything avant garde you may wish to submit. The entries must tell a story of sorts, long or short, detailed or simple, subtle or obvious.
We can have a voting near the end of October for the favorite pieces.