Here’s a twofer.
Day 6: This is a dog, in case you couldn’t tell. Dogs are hilarious. I’m not sure if these fancy ink pens always look like cheap markers when used, or if it’s just my special artistic touch that’s transformed them.
Day 7: I was reading about Echo and Narcissus, looking at depictions of them, and got a little annoyed. So I wrote this.
Everyone remembers Narcissus
But what of Echo?
She didn’t matter to herself
So she doesn’t matter to others
Always a footnote in someone’s painting
A wan satellite
A visual element
Used to balance out and set off
And I drew Echo (alone so Narcissus with his lesser problems and greater charisma can’t steal the limelight), in the process of dwindling away into the cliffs. Soon only her voice will be left.
I don’t know what’s going on here. I got so serious about the last one I had to draw something dumb this time. What do you suppose this warlock is up to?
I drew this as a card for a friend who is retiring. He’s leaving the rat race, get it?
The Inktober prompt for today was Tranquil, so that worked out.
So far, I feel like Inktober has forced me to draw, but it’s also rushed me to finish in one night. I won’t make that mistake on the next one though. I’m going to take my time on it! …hopefully.
An icy little wind devil
kicks up the air in my cube
leans against my left shoulder to read what I write
blows on my soup
peeks under my blanket
keeps making grabs for my toes.
The office AC has summoned him.
Only he who has been granted
the power of the thermostat
can send him back to the ninth circle
from whence he came.
“Kiss me,” she said.
He wasn’t sure. He could smell the garlic from here, and it wasn’t pretty.
“I have an idea,” he said, leaning away. “How about we whip up some mint milkshakes?” It was a good idea, but she wasn’t biting.
“I’m fuuuuuull,” she pouted. The garlic rolled by him as she whined the word, an invisible tsunami that hit him with nearly physical force. It was all he could do to keep himself upright.
“I can’t,” he murmured. “I just can’t.”
“I SAID I CAN’T,” he cried out desperately. “I’m sorry! You’re just too garlicky!”
Her warm, cozy expression shattered. “What?”
“I’m so sorry! I can’t be in this room with you any more!”
He ran like the hounds of hell were after him, burst out the door, stumbled down the stairs, and zoomed away in his car.
She leaned back in the couch, nonplussed. She never got a reaction like that from a man. Garlic odor? What an odd way for his fears to manifest.
She grabbed her phone and sent a group text to her coven.
Sorry gals. He was a sensitive, sensed something wrong and ran. I’ll get us a fresh one tomorrow night, I promise.