Story Time With The Satanic Teddybear

***
The Girl Who Cried Wolf-Monster!

by C.D. Brinker

***

Some say there's demons,

Some say there's ghouls,

Some say there's snarling beasts

That scream and drool.

But none are as frightening

As the horrible wolf-monster,

Or so says a little girl

Named Kayla Voncoster.

But come on, seriously?

A horrible wolf-monster?

How could anyone believe

Little Kayla Voncoster?

"But I know where it sleeps,

I know where it roams,

Deep in the forests

Beyond our homes!

It comes out at night

To howl at the moon,

It frightens the skunks,

The bats and raccoons."

But no one believed her,

They thought it was a slight.

For no one else heard

This wolf-monster at night.

So the villagers laughed

And the children all sneered,

There's no such wolf-monster

Which they should fear.

But when some chickens

From a nearby farm

Were found eaten to death,

It caused much alarm.

"It was the wolf-monster!"

Kayla Voncoster said.

"It wasn't just some fox

Or a cat that wanted fed."

But the villagers all shrugged

And went about their way,

Yet they were quick to their homes

At the end of the day,

No one would admit

They felt a tinge of fear,

For the next full moon

Was approaching near.

And on that dark night

The villagers heard shrieks,

Curiosity got the best of them

So they went to take a peek.

They met out in the street

With torches in hand

And went out searching

Every farm, every land.

And what should they see

Just up in the hills,

A little girl playing,

Running around for thrills.

Yet when they approached

It became quite clear

That it wasn't some girl,

But rather a beast to fear!

With fur like a dog

And a body of a child,

A creature stood snarling,

Tamed, yet wild.

"I told you it was real,"

Said Kayla Voncoster.

"And it's me,

I'm the wolf-monster!"

The villagers all screamed

And ran away from fright,

While Kayla Voncoster

Howled into the night.

***

(p.s. I HATE THIS PICTURE!)

Copyright © 2010 C. D. Brinker

An Amateur Artist: Owls - final

So here's my picture . . . I call it, cuddly-wuddly lil' owls! Hoo-hoo! Okay . . . okay . . . seriously, it's just some owls I drew.

Look, a Book!

Son of a Witch

by Gregory Maguire

* * *

I recently finished Gregory Maguire's next installment in The Wicked Years and was rather pleased with the work as a whole. This is the fourth novel I have read of Mister Maguire's and it was one of those books which helped rank the author's status as a favorite on my book shelves. Having, of course, read Wicked: the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, I was instantly enchanted by Mister Maguire's novel ideas (pun intended), but did not declare him as one of my favorite writers even after having read some of his other books. In fact, Mirror, Mirror was the third novel I read by him and it put me off quite a bit . . . so much so that it took near three years for me to pick up one of his other books again, or rather an audio version of Wicked.

* * *

On my first date with Kayla, I bought her Wicked, assuming of course that she was a fan of literature. She is not. However, she was compelled to acquire an audio version of the book which she listened to all day long at work. Because our company allows personal audio devices (in fact, you'd go crazy if you didn't have one), it only took her a few days to listen to the novel . . . and in the end all she did was talk about it incessantly. Because it had been years since I last read the novel, I couldn't remember much of the story, so I too gave it a listen. My, how much does one forget? I love that story!

* * *

So . . . I ran to the local bookstore and purchased both Son of a Witch and A Lion Among Men (sequels to Wicked). And as I mentioned, I just finished the second novel in the series and was thoroughly impressed with the overall story. It was a little rough in the beginning, having a displaced framing of time, but it didn't take long for the main character, Liir, to suck me into his conquest. And what a conquest it was . . . prisons, brooms, Animals and animals, dragons, a little unconscious raping, as well as homosexuality . . . yeah, it was a good story. Although, I will declare that I wasn't solely convinced on the passion shared between Liir and Trism (not because it was same-sexed, but simply because it just came about during the climax [again, pun intended]). But that's just nit-picking.

* * *

What I liked most about this story were the themes conveyed . . . that sometimes even the most bitter person can be the most heartfelt; that sometimes we have to accept disappointment; and that sometimes the things we seek don't seek us. Those are all pretty standard themes for any number of novels, but throw in some fantastical elements (already based off the classical, familiar realm of Oz) and I'm thoroughly impressed. So, I applaud.

* * *

Good book. Good read.

An Amateur Artist: Owls

Well, I finished my drawing this morning. I'm rather pleased with the progress. I learned a few new tricks and techniques that I can't wait to encorporate into my next drawing. Here's a picture . . . I'll scan the image sometime this weekend for more clarity.

I Haiku You

This is what this is,
Nothing more, but a lot less
Than was expected.

An Amateur Artist: Owls

I don't know what's with owls lately, but Kayla and I seem very drawn to them. Yesterday, we felt rather ill enough to call off work and saught medical attention at local thrift shops where we bought an owl painting.





And she also has a picture on her blog of two owls, seemingly in love, sitting together. This motivated me to draw another owl picture. Here it is in the making (unfinished, of course).

An Amateur Artist: Owl

I drew this. I'm quite proud of it. I'm an amateur artist to say the least, but this was my first drawing done in ink. It was a lot of fun! As you can see . . .

Reflections and Recollections: You're Too Old!

My girlfriend says I'm too old for my immaturity. At twenty-nine years of age, I still have a quirky sense of humor, act like I'm the main character of some teenage melodrama and lash out like a complete buffoon. I understand how this can be construed as annoying and embarrassing, but I don't care . . . I'm a child at heart and proud of it! She's oftentimes criticizing the shortness of life and how precious of a commodity time is . . . so why all the fuss? If life is so short, then shouldn't I have all the fun and enjoyment of it as possible? Besides, I know deep down she truly loves my childish antics.