“She hit me?” was all he could whisper to the ocean waves and laughing gulls. Emily had trudged off into the woods a time ago, but Tim couldn’t take his eyes away from those emerald pines. To do so would have betrayed the juggling act between bewilderment and a broken pride. He did all he could to fight the tears. He bit his cheek, swallowed hard and looked to the ground where the paint chipped pony laid, broken in two.

 A ghost of silk and clay perches on the highest branch of the boab. Dusky purples fill the sky, illuminating the reds and coppers of the landscape for Tyto as she scans. A hot wind ruffles her feathers in a westward way. Her eyes dart from scrub grass, to rock, to rotted log, to...She has it! She pours out of the tree like milk and in a half beat, the mouse has found her talons. A good start to a long night.

so, I really hated the drawing (as seen below) and had some free time so I did a 100 frame animation in about an hour in a half. It's kinda crappy, but I'm kind of proud of myself for doing a 2d in an hour and a half (the last dozen or so frames aren't cleaned up). I need to do more of these as I need the practice for ideas down the road ;)

 

  She stared at the yellowed photo, hanging on the wall, of the much younger woman. This woman's hair was done up in the gibson fashion, her stripped one piece betraying the timing of the picture. She closed her eyes. The sweet scent of salt taffy filled her nose. A man's voice beckoned in the background. She could even feel the hot sand tickle her feet. Bristol.
"Mam-Meem?" the child's voice broke her concentration. She opened her eyes, and she was 80 again.

 a direct copy of a Charles Gibson Girl, to test a new tablet at work (it works fine). I haven't done a master copy in a while (nor would i truly recognize this as a master copy). It works, but it doesn't have his life. Next time, I suppose.

“They sent me to kill the…” She swallowed hard, starring into the cave, “…troll. They sent me, and that’s what I intend to do.”

Though her feet remained as solid as ever. A low snort echoed against the caves walls; a warning. She motioned for her spear.

“Now how did the words go? Fos Ring Dul? Fub Roh Dang?” she thought, biting her bottom lip. “No matter, I’m sure it’ll come to me.”

A roar shook her to the marrow. There would be only one way to find out if she be truly Dragonborn.

I've been playing too much skyrim...

 

The orchid moon glowed in the muggy canopy. The heat, even this late, should have been insufferable. She made her own breeze. It had been too long since she had seen her people. She treaded quietly, for fear of being found. From the road an animal snorted. She watched from behind a large palm as a farmer set his ox cart by the fence. He gently lifted a sleeping babe, kissed its brow and headed into the village. This is what she came to see.

one of the rare occasions where the image came first. it's actually a test piece, done on the ipad with autodesk's sketchbook pro. i had no idea where i was going with the piece, i just wanted to try out the UI. decided to try and fit a story to it. meh.
i didn't post at all over the break, and i feel kind of crappy for it. i know no one really looks at this blog, but if i want to get better at writing, it aint gonna wish it's self to me...resolution!
Happy 2012!!!

The gymnasium door screeched open, with a background chorus of laughter and music, then muffled out to a hum. She sat on a box, next to the dumpster; her eyes black with tears, melted snow in her hair.

“Margie?”

She looked up, wiping the mascara away. “Oh hey, Jake! Didn’t see you there.” She said, in a hoarse voice.

“That was pretty rough of him, cutting out on you like that.”

“I guess.”

The gym door swung open again for a moment. A quiet song wafted out, then receded to the background.

“Can I have this dance?”

He held out his hand and she smiled for the first time that night.

 Merry Christmas everyone./

 

Wir’a froze as the brilliant orange shined against the light rain. The toucan bobbed and swayed with the breeze.

This had been Wir’a’s 14^th rainy season and to prove himself a man, he needed that bird’s beak. “But where will I be after the 15^th? Or the 20^th?” he thought to himself, “and if I had never seen this bird, where would he have ended up?”

He shrugged, raised his arrow, and found the bird to have flown off.

“Now that is for him to know, and you to find out,” he said to himself, as he flashed the sky a crooked smile.

 

The shack’s tin roof burns her hands. It’s all Lee Anne can do not to yell out; just a few more moments. The clang-a-dang of a bell, the whirl of a cicada and she’s in the air. The goat has only a moment to react but time is wasted on shock. Lee Anne comes down hard and grabs hold of the reigns. “YE-HAW, JEZEBEL!” she yells out. A slight buck, a kick, and Lee Anne rolls off, sides busting with laughter.

“So? Shall we eat him?” The Raven asked his compatriots. The second bird said nothing. The third raven spoke, “His dogs still roam the field.”

“Aye,” said the first raven.

“And his hawk still stalks the skies!” piped up the second raven.

 “Aye,” repeated the first raven.

From down the path came a young waif in white, quietly crying. She reached the dead soldier, knelt and kissed his blooded brow.

“Let us fly lads, to find a meal that is not as loved as he.”

The ravens leapt, jet wings stark against grey skies.

 inspired by the english ballad, "The Three Ravens" 
A sketch taken to color, but the texture is way over burned./ I am so out of shape, artisticlly speaking  :/

The smoked burned her insides as if they were the beams of an abandoned pine shack. A gaggle of drunken college girls, draped in pink, squealed in the night neon. She stayed hidden in the shadows, hidden behind her embers. Under the marquee, the world took on a sepia tone and she closed her eyes, taking in the sounds. She imagined she was in some lost gold boom town, wagon wheel turns and mule brays in place of ring tones and car horns. If only. She flicked out the ash and crept back into the concert.

ugg, crappy sketch   >:l

The McFadden twins gazed upon the forest press, carefully, from behind a bilberry bush. “That’s the Queen of the Forest, aye.” Alva whispered to Danny. The queen sat on her thistle branch throne and carelessly bowed at the harp; her six fawn maidens gathered tightly around. The notes danced and trickled among the breeze. Danny could almost hear a song bird with the voice of his mother. For the rest of his life, he would never hear anything half so beautiful.

inspired by the characters of my coworker, Kaitlin Reid  :D

 

Marcella’s horse clopped along the bleach blue sands at a lazy gait. Sister moon lit up the Sonora. She was thankful for the poetic light. The cry of an owl lit ears up and there he was. The silhouette stood ten paces away; leaping distance. “Harland?” she asked, with a cool smile. The man’s paper white lips curled, revealing two, inch long fangs. “Been following you for a while now,” she rasped, drawing the pistol as the clouds snuffed out moonlight.

A shot cracked, ripping through the dusk. “Bloody Good shot, Fitzwarren!” boomed the fat man. Their guide, eyes wide, attempted to quiet the drunk. The male lion laid across a rock, his graceful mane spotted by blood. A click, a clack and a shell casing flew. “I do say, I have-”a shadow took the fat man, his scream blown out by a second shot. Both lay still. “Take note, Henry,” Fitzwarren said to the guide, “always keep a careful eye for the female.”

 So, I think I know what to do with this blog. I was listening to NPR over the weekend and came across an interview with Lou Beach for his book "420 Characters". The idea is to write short stories 420 characters of less, the idea being that they would fit in Facebook statuses. They're beautiful in their simplicity. I really want to get better at writing, and this seems the perfect way. Then, add in a sketch that is equally as rough that goes with the story. I see nothing but wins here. So, hence forth this blog will be called "Sketched Up Stories"! I'll still post illustration and animation work here, but the main idea will be to get both writing and drawing out and into the world, and shut up my perfectionist self, he ruins everything. I hope you like what comes out of this! (and that I can keep up the pace) And if you don't, I relish critiques  ;)