Visions

Since this is a blog of my art, and since I am not writing as much as I should - but I am drawing a picture everyday  so I will post my pictures everyday - yay for regular updates and art!

Below are my drawings for the last three days:

My bunny Tanto, and below two random drawings.

A grey and white striped tabby cat with a small tuft of bright pink hair under its chin was perched atop a stack of wooden crates in the alley between the Shike Sister’s Bakery and The Boar, a place known for its stiff drinks and regular brawls.  The felines luminescent blue eyes were locked on the entrance to the bakery, awaiting its quarry.

The soft jingling of the bell that hung on the inside of the bakery’s door frame filled the air as a portly man in a charcoal black suit and matching top hat stepped out onto the cobblestone street.  In his arms was a bundle of white boxes with the green leaf logo belonging to the bakery, and there was no doubt in the feline’s mind that the contents of the boxes were delicious.  However, he was unconcerned with such petty indulgences and slipped elegantly from the stack of crates and slunk into the bakery through the still closing door.

The inside of the bakery was filled with wonderful scents - creams, pastries, cakes and fruit toppings all swirled together to tease the senes.  The interior consited of a large window display on which marvelous cakes and carefully crafted treats were displayed to the outside world, a series of four tables and chairs placed neatly in the middle of the room and a bar-style glass counter that also displayed an assortment of goods.  Standing behind the counter was a gorgeous young woman in a plain white smock.  Her brown hair was neatly tied into a bun and held in place with a couple of wooden sticks.  She was busy topping a few tarts with whipped frosting and didn’t notice the crafty feline slinking along the back wall, making his way behind the counter.

The tabby carefully pushed his head against the swinging door that lead into the kitchen area and, unnoticed by the attendant, made his entry.  working away in the kitchen was the other sister, she was dressed in what had once been white chefs attire - but was now stained with various splotches of fruit and chocolate.  Her black hair was tied back in a pony tail.  She had a slightly red, but irristably cute face and gorgeous green eyes - this was the treat the feline had been stalking.

The cat hopped up onto the counter behind the woman, sat down like a pretty prince and stared intently at the back of her head - waiting for the opportune moment to make his presence known.  The baker was working intently on a chocolate coated something or other, and when she turned to place the finished products in the over - upon which the cat was perched - the feline visitor smiled at her, and mewed happily.  At first she was startled, then her face was washed with anger.  She pulled open the oven, roughly tossed the tray in, slammed it shut and flicked on the burner.

“What the hell are you doing here Mithras?”  She took of her apron and, holding it in a closed fist, slammed it down on the counter beside her.

Mithras just smiled back at her and mewed again.

Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at the cute cat.  He mewed a third time and she was defeated, her anger washed away like a flash flood and she smiled back at him, a couple tears welling up in her eyes, “couldn’t wait to see me?”

Mithras hopped off the counter, and as he jumped his body straightened up right as he changed from feline to man.  His fur folded into clothing and his paws became hands.  When the transformation was complete the baker found herself staring into the same glowing blues eyes she was before, but instead of being mounted in the head of a tabby they were staring at her from the body of a man - with bright pink hair.  He wore a simple white button up shirt and a pair of blue jeans.

“Wait, to see you?”  He smiled ear to ear, the kind of smile that melts your heart and warns you that mischief is afoot all at once, “you’re kidding right?”

The baker smiled ear to ear, hauled back her fist and drove it hard into his shoulder, “you can’t interrupt me at work.  I’ve told you that before, now scram and come back in an hour when the store closes.”

“I love you though.”  Mithras made to argue, rubbing his now stinging shoulder and wincing - she had a solid right hook.

Resuming her work and without even glancing up she replied without a hint of care, “and you can express that when I’m done.  Scram before I get angry.”

Mithras sighed and walked out of the kitchen and into the storefront area.  The woman behind the counter shook her head when she saw him walk out, “I saw you sneaking in, you’d think you would learn.  Then again, you are a boy.”  She grinned cheekily and continued to arrange the cookies under the counter.  Mithras, his ego not yet enough deflated, reached under the counter and procured himself a butter tart before running for the door - as he exited the shop into the street he was followed by the clerk screaming at him to pay for the snack.

Hundreds of great spires rose from the grassy plains towards the sky. Atop their sleek silver bodies hung three whirling blades that turned to face the oncoming wind. As the wind pushed its way through the valley the force of its movements was said to turn the blades atop the great towers. The motion of the turning blades then turned a series of gears and pipes that ran down the inside of the windmills and into the ground below. This gear system in turn operated a great generator that was in a concrete structure buried below the valley floor. The generator whirred as electrons within became charged and buzzed along the metallic lines that ran from the generator to the battery arrays in neighbouring rooms from which the great fortress city west of the vale collected the electricity required to power the machines within.

Machinists and engineers mulled about the generation plant checking gauges and making minor repairs on the machines contained within. Scientists worked in another section of the plant putting their expensively educated minds together to seek more efficient ways to build batteries and generate energy. They scribbled on large pieces of chart paper and chalked up the black stone walls of their laboratories, all in the name of progress and evolution.

Sixty meters above their heads, slowly walking between the rows of steel towers was a girl. Her hair, braided and bright red, was twirling in the air behind her as the strong winds tore through the valley. She wore a pale blue skirt that fell to her sandaled feet and a plain white blouse. The wind made her clothes dance and billow as she walked.

Her name was Shyria and she was a peasant who lived in the meadow next to the Windswept Valley. Her parents, Mythro and Kinara, were simple farming folk who lived off the land and traded with those who traveled through their village on the way to the Great City. At the peak of every growing season, right after the harvest when the crops were freshest, the entire family would travel to the Market in the Great City to sell the excess food.

That day this year was tomorrow, and it would be the first time Mythro would not be going. Shyria was of age to start learning to work the fields and her mother felt it was time for her to learn the ways of the Market. Her father agreed, though he would not have missed Shyria’s first day working the stall he had fallen very ill the past week. Part of the journey to the Great City was also to fetch a healer for Mythro.

Shyria enjoyed walking in the Windswept Valley. The whirring of the turbines and hard gusts of wind gave her a peaceful feeling she could not replicate elsewhere. She felt free when she stood in the middle of the valley, her arms outstretched over her head and the wind tearing through the air around her. Her hair dancing wild and free, her skirt whipping around her legs. She felt the animal inside her, the wild natural self buried underneath the tamed farm girl. She felt like she could just spread her giant eagle wings and soar with the heavy winds, twisting and twirling in the air. Swooping low and climbing high.

Her dream was interrupted by a loud crack as the air itself was torn asunder. A momentary flash white light pierced the sky and struck the ground not twenty feet from where Shy stood. The sky had turned black and thunder rolled all around her. She started to head in the direction she had come from when the rain started to hammer the ground. The droplets lashed at her face and arms and her clothing was soaked in an instant. The wind picked up and turned the torrent into a wild tempest. Thunder boomed in the air while lightning stabbed at the ground in the valley. The whirring of the turbines was drowned out by the sound of rain pelting the metal structures. The clouds were growing darker, Shyria’s vision was impaired by the rain as it was, but now she was wrapped in black blanket and her only light source were the searing bolts of lightning that were striking regularly.

As she crested the hill and climbed out of the Valley she found the meadow virtually untouched by the storm. A light rain had drizzled the fields and now the sun shone happily over the damp grass. A rainbow hung in the pale blue sky and over her shoulder, in the Windswept Valley a storm raged with the anger of a hundred thousand warriors.

So, seeing as school is out for the next four months and I get some spare time to do nothing with I have decided to revamp my entire domain.  It’s kind of bland and has been largely ignored for the majority of the last year.  I don’t even know what the traffic levels are - but I assume very low.

So I am setting out on a quest.  I originally got it to encourage myself to keep up with writing and the other creative things I do that are not directly related to school (the only other thing I do) and so I will be redesigning it to better facilitate that.  I am likely going to create a new layout all together and the blog will be reserved for things like this and rants on world issues (something I am more recently paying attention to).  I will create a separate section for posting stories that is more fitting to the kind of material I intend to put on display there.

I have little artistic skill so it will be largely simple, or cookie cutter templates and GUI’s.  Not sure which I am into right yet, we will see.  I will also be restructuring my now long dead forum to be more cohesive with the entire site design.

So, these are my glorious plans for the next four months - and my domain will be expiring in two or so and this may lead to a new name.  If you have any ideas send em’ my way, I feel Nexus of Dreams to be kind of - well - silly.  I could do better I think.  But we shall see.

Cheers all.
~Candi

Void.Empty.Shell.

The air shrieked as the wind whipped around the peninsula, bending the young maple that stood at the edge of the rocky outcropping out over the viciously swirling waves. Thick black clouds gathered overhead and the low rumbling of thunder could be heard in the distance. Gulls sailed the air currents towards the land, getting away from the open water before the inevitable chaos unleashed its fury upon those foolish enough to be in its path. Animals that usually spent the day roaming the beach front had already begun their retreat into the safety of the nearby woods. Even the insects had subsided, all having gone into their respective hiding spots in hopes of surviving the oncoming onslaught.

A wispy figure hovered over the water just beyond the edge of the peninsula. It was vaguely shaped like a man, transparent and of a soft blue hue, almost blending in completely with the water that could be seen through it. It appeared to be dressed in a baggy shirt that had been clawed to ribbons and a pair of scratch and hole ridden pants. Its insubstantial gaze was locked on the darkest patch of the horizon. A solid spot of blackness from which the storm was originating, an extension of the mystical being. A representation of its internal strife staining the world and causing grief to those in its path.

A loud crack echoed in the bay and a streak of blue light struck the churning waves. The water broiled and bubbled momentarily where the bolt had struck, a few fish floated to the surface. Their scales charred and eyes as dead as the ghastly figure hovering nearby.

The man did not flinch at the strike, he expected it as it corresponded to his recollection of his past. A particular moment of anger, rage and frustration. He was enveloping the realm of mortals with his eternal suffering. His eyes fixed on the growing blackness in the distance, it was slowly consuming more and more of the dull gray clouds overhead. Its ominous approach was slow but inevitable.

Rain started to thrash the water and turn the white sand to a dark muck. The droplets pelted down like millions of bullets, striking the water with enough force to send droplets cascading back into the air. The waves intensified and began to charge towards the inside of the bay, racing up the sandy region and reaching desperately for the tree line.

Another bolt struck, this time leaving a trail of smoke behind above the beach. Molding the sand into a fine glass with its intense heat. The black spot now consumed half the sky and the waves towered over the trees, crashing down into the woods and threatening the wildlife that had not fled far enough.

The man still hovered with his gaze fixated on the darkness that was his soul. He caused his own suffering, he was the only one to blame. The blackness tainted the rest of the clouds overhead and the torrent of ice cold rain intensified into a wall of water hailing from the hell above. The waves stood well over ten feet high and relentlessly assaulted the inner bay while bolts of lightning struck the trees, beach and within the woods almost as if they sought to destroy life. The came frequently on irregular intervals. Slamming into the earth and always leaving behind a scar to remind those who survived of the terror.

A great bolt lunged from the sky. It arced over the trees and unerringly struck the single maple that was now kissing the water beneath the hovering figure. The charge of electricity ran along the trees trunk to its leaves where it leaped from the green tips and plunged through the hovering figure.

The breeze was calm, the sea smooth and kind. Birds sang from the forests edge while baby foxes played with crabs on the beach. Gulls circled above the end of the peninsula and the sun was shining happily over the land from a clear blue sky.

Jan. 14 ~ Surgeon’s Log

It seems the captain has lost his mind.

He insisted that we continue into what has become known among the crew as “The Abyss”. Of course we don’t really know what it is, only that every row boat bearing two or four men that’s been sent out into in on recon for the last five days has found nothing within’ it. Though no one has dared venture more than a few hours row into the depths and they always returned a lot paler than before. No one speaks of the journey and they always say ‘nothing’ when asked what they saw.

We were preparing to depart as the last boat returned with one passenger. It had gone out with five. The lad who was in it was shivering and barely able to move the oars, we had to send out a rescue boat to retrieve him when he emerged, floating towards us, feebly thrusting the oar like he was fleeing for his life. Nothing came after him.

Upon pulling him aboard he was brought to me in my medical chamber. He was suffering from mild shock but showed no open wounds or source of blood loss. Skin was pale, eyes bloodshot and he was cold. Oh was he ever cold. Not unlike what you would expect living death to feel like.

At first he didn’t speak, didn’t move. Nothing, just laid still as a board and stared at the ceiling. He was breathing and conscious, but lifeless. Then, as I began to pack up my supplies and leave him by himself he turned his head and those dead eyes burrowed into mine and he spoke - his voice raspy.

He told me to get us out of here, get him away. No man belongs in there, in that place. It’s not for men, it’s for not-men. Get us away. He pleaded to me, I just looked him in the eye and told him to rest.

Taking the information and advice to the captain — who up until now had concluded there was nothing to be obtained from this venture — was likely the worst thing I could have done. I should have kept the information to myself, just kept my mouth shut. Duty pulled at me until I finally climbed the steps to the cabin and rapped lightly on the door.

“Enter”

And I did, bearing news for the bearded man. His black eyes went aflame with news of something besides nothing. All he had been told about The Abyss was ‘nothing’. Now the nothing had become something, an omen, a warning. A plea to depart, to not go into that place. The captain had something, finally his quest would not be for nothing, but something. With new purpose he stormed across the cabin and burst out onto the deck.

“In the morning, we descend!” He called.

The men just stared at him. We had been told we would be departing, we would leave today. Not so. I fear I have condemned us to whatever horrors lie in wait. Whatever gobbled up four souls without leaving a trace of them and drove a single man to the brink of death.

~Gone to check on patient~

When I went back to check on my patient I found him stringing a rope around his neck. He had fastened it to the rafter above the bed and was preparing to kick it aside. Upon seeing me his cold eyes narrowed “I’ll not go back” he cried. Shoving the bed out from under himself and falling down. The rope went taut and he swung. His eyes rolling, chest fighting for breath. I moved forward and he kicked at me. I managed to wrap my arms around his legs and hold him up from the deathly grip of the noose while I climbed on the bed and used my pocket knife to sever the rope. He fell to the ground and let out a gasp as he lungs filled with air.

“I’ll not go back” He started chanting. I clambered down and knelt beside his curled up form, I tried to comfort him. I put the knife down and he moved quickly. Snatching it up and plunging it into his throat, spewing the red life out from his veins and onto me.

If The Abyss drove a man to such an end I fear what it will do the the lot of us. What it did to the other four.

The normalities of life should be left in one of the cubbies as you enter the boarding station. We cannot promise that they will remain unchanged but we do guarantee that life will be waiting for you at the end of the ride. As you seat yourselves an attendant will check to ensure your restraints are loose and there is good potential that you may be ejected unexpectedly. So please, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.

There is and will never again be anything comparable to it. The Mind Breaker. It was something else, let me tell you. The experience of a lifetime. Everyone was entitled to a ride — a single ride. Once around the bend, up the slope and finally a single descent out of life and into wonder.

>>A diver climbs a tower.

You wait in line in anticipation of what you have heard and read so much about. A ride that will change your life. At the time you think it’s just another amusement park ride. Any life changing experience people claim must be some kind of trick or illusion. You don’t yet realize quite what they mean. So you stand there, maybe with friends, maybe without — if you have none. You may or may not talk to those in line near you, discussing politics and recent events. No one at the end of the line talks about the ride — yet. As you near the base of the staircase that climbs to the second level of the que butterflies begin to inhabit your stomach and intestines. The air is filled with the same feeling that has just filled your insides.

>>Calm before the storm.

Atop the second level you can see the boarding platform. Everything looks normal, just like every other thrill ride at the park. Yet there is an uneasiness in the air, like the ride itself brings fear into everyone. Even the most frequent seekers of the parks amusements seem to be shaken to their core. No one can put a finger on what it is, what’s causing it but something is and everyone is sure it has something to do with the ride. Conversations shift away from the mundane things life hands you on a daily basis to this extraordinary thing sitting no more than twenty meters from any individual. Everyone is whispering. Mumbling about reviews and readings, things friends and family have said about the experience.
Life changing
Wonderful
Unique

Strange.

>>The diver leaps from the tower and plunges towards the surface.

You now stand on the loading platform and the well documented boarding announcement plays. As it does so an attendant — a tall dark man — ushers you towards the small wooden car and you take your seat. normalities of life… You watch as the cars fill up and the crowds move closer. The nervous whisperings in the air add to your anxiety as if there is some secret danger befalling everyone and no one wants to admit it. … guarantee that life… You start to panic now. Fear fills every space within yourself, your eyes dart wildly around seeking escape. The attendant moves past you, glancing to check your restraints. Then you realize - there are no restraints. You have no belts, no protective bar. Nothing to stop from being …ejected unexpectedly. There is a sigh from the car as it settles and begins to roll forward. Too late now.

>>The diver strikes the surface. The surface is like concrete.

The entire structure shakes as it rolls out of the boarding station and around the bend - it is going to break. You cling to the side of the car for your life. No one makes a sound. The coaster begins to ascend a great hill, the wooden structure appears to be lacking supports. You tell yourself it’s an illusion, it’s not really that way, they just want you to be that way. It’s just a thrill ride… And you are not thrilled. Reaching the top of the hill you are quaked with fear as you look out at the ground before you and realize that the track plunges directly into the hard stone surface. A few hundred meters in the distance it climbs from the hard ground and traces itself back to the boarding station. The silence becomes tense, it could be cut with a slight wind. There is no wind.

>>Splat.

The ride dives down, rushing faster and faster towards the ground. Not near the ground but at the ground. The ride goes into the ground. Into. You repeat the thought a few times, your eyes are deceiving you. Can’t be. Must not be. You are going to die. The ground gets closer and closer and you get more and more panicked. Silence still fills the air. Are you the only one seeing this. You glance, there are still others — someone jumps. They won’t make it, you’re still over ten meters up and moving at a good thirty kilometers. The ground will take them. The ground will take you. As the front car hits the solid stone surface you close your eyes. Disbelieve you tell yourself. The isn’t real, nothing is real.

>>The ambulance pulls away and the crowd dissipates. All that remains is a scar on the sidewalk.

You open your eyes and you are still alive. You touch your face. You look. The cars are all still full - except the one who jumped. You are alive, they are alive. You are moving into the boarding platform. Uneasiness is in the air. Those who await the ride are uneasy for they do not know what is coming but they know it is big. You are uneasy because you do not know what has happened, but you know it was big.

 A little something I thought of on my walk to work this morning, I hope you all enjoy it.  Perhaps it will become something more, there is obviously more to this tale then has been told.

The small musty smelling shop was filled with the light jingle of a bell as the wooden door swung open. A small iron arm was attached to the back of the door and was aligned with a small bell on a hook such that when someone entered the bell would jingle and the shop master would be aware of the potential client. On that morning the potential customer was a dark looking fellow. He stood about six feet tall, wore a black shawl with strange silver and purple designs scrawled along the seams. His unkempt black hair could have reached his shoulders if it wasn’t so matted and mostly on end. Beneath the shawl he wore a dark purple tunic with a light blue border. His hazel eyes were sunken into his dark eye sockets, the man looked like he had never slept a day in his life.

Upon entering the small shop he moved briskly to the counter where the old shop master stood. He didn’t even pause to glance at the array of wonders of display, he had clearly come with purpose and would not be distracted. The shop master was an old man. He carried a defined hunch, wrinkled gray flesh and thin wires of white hair hung from his scalp. He wore a dark green cloak and kept the hood over his head and just past his ears. His eyes met the newcomers with anticipation, he had not seen such a keen customer in years and the thought excited him.

“Apothecary?” The customers voice was deep and powerful, his eyes pierced into the shop masters pale green orbs as he awaited a response.

“They call me that, yes.” The shop masters words were slow and deliberate, his voice raspy yet confident, “What service might I provide you with?” The apothecary knew from the look of the man that he would not be seeking a product already available in the shop but instead would need something specifically concocted for his personal needs.

“A solution.”

“I have many solutions… And many problems.” The apothecary’s wrinkled face formed a wry grin, “A solution to someone else? Or perhaps for yourself?”

The man’s gaze was still locked on the apothecary’s. He did not blink, did not twitch. Just stared.

“I am not a mind reader and so without your guidance would be working blindly.” The apothecary reached beneath the counter and produced an empty glass and a jug filled with a colourless liquid. He continued speaking as he filled the glass, “I am your host, and you looked parched. What kind of host would I be if I did not provide you with the sustenance that you so obviously require. Have a drink and know that the words you utter in here are not heard outside of here, and if they were you are not responsible in the slightest for a slip of the tongue.”

The shop master pushed the glass across the counter and the man picked it up and brought it to his lips. It was not water, although it appeared to be water in all ways it was not. It was a truth serum, and by drinking it unknowingly the man would be absolved of responsibility for what he requested from the apothecary for it is the letter of law that when words of truth are spoken while under influence of unnatural forces the speaker cannot and will not be held accountable for those words. Unless the accused was aware of the substance’s true nature before consuming it.

“Thank you” He said, sliding the now empty glass back across the counter to the apothecary who returned it and the jug beneath the counter.

Turning to face me the old shop master was still grinning, he motioned with his bony fingers that I should go into the back room and do something else. I may have been a young lad back then but I knew that I did not want to be a witness to what would transpire between the two men. I climbed off of the little stool I was perched upon and made my way to the back storeroom.

As I departed the apothecary laced his fingers together and rested his hands atop the dusty wooden counter top, “Now, what is the problem for which you require a solution?”

They talked for a little while after which the store master entered into the back room and motioned for me to return to the front. The man was leaning on the counter, his face calm and relaxed. The serum had yet to wear off, I could have asked him anything in that moment and I knew I would have heard the truth. I did not, I was young and not yet jaded nor was I an opportunist yet.

The apothecary returned with a single black vial. He handed it to the man whom gave him a small pouch that jingled as the shop master opened it to inspect the contents. The apothecary bowed his head and the man bowed his in return before turning on his heel and departing.

The shop master turned to me, his smile wide and nearly toothless. He handed me the pouch, “Treat yourself.” With that he retreated to the back storeroom.

When you purchase something from a trades person you put a great deal of trust in them. You trust a blacksmith not to give you a faulty hammer. You trust that a grocer will not have sold you tainted food. You believe a jeweller when they tell you that their gems are not false and similarly a priest when they speak of their words. An apothecary is a different kind of trade, however. You seek an apothecary to weave for you your dreams. Once you leave with the product you desired you are trusting that contained within that vial is in fact the dreams you desired and that the old man behind the counter has not instead charged you a fortune for your nightmares. The trouble with an apothecary is that by the time you realize you were lied to it is far beyond too late.