Waiting on the Sun

Vanitas Sauridae Extraterrestrium

Continuing Story, Part 1.

She looked at the cliff below her shaking feet that barely held up her shattered body. Beneath her blood-covered toes was nearly a mile of nothing, which broke violently into jagged rocks and waves thrashing in anticipation of her arrival.

This was it. The end of her life. 

She whirled around in terror as the horde of men and women flew out of the jungle like angry panthers ready to eat their damaged prey. The glistening of their knifes and scythes sparkled in the moonlight. Her very bones nearly shook themselves apart in panic as their high pitched screams of delight drew closer.

In the last bit of bravery she could muster, she turned around and jumped. Her tattered dress flailed violently as she tumbled head over feet to the rocky tempest below her.

She was ready to let go. Ready to let go of the last five years of her life. Ready to let go of the torture she endured. The cages, beatings. All of it.

She was ready to meet her end.

But her end did not visit that moonlit night, for as she began to feel the ocean spray across her face, and the jagged rocks rising in greedy anticipation of smashing her already broken body, a firm hand grabbed her, and strong arms held her, as she suddenly felt a rush of air to her side. 

Her body, now completely limp, was thrown around a bit as this figure held her, carrying her from the torrent of hate and cacophony of death swirled behind her. 

As she drifted into sleep, she caught a glimpse of his face. A strong, confident and kind face. Her last memory was that of two other figures behind him, with nearly the came kindness on their faces as well.

Perhaps today was not the day she would die after all.

To be continued.

This will be a continuing story. Have fun reading! (Style is stream of consciousness.)

Platypus

This illustration appeared in the Vermilion Newspaper as part of the Random Fuzz comic.

CD Illustration

It still needs some work.

Just across the border.

Interesting how just a few thousand miles can change a culture.

When I went to Mexico several years ago, the differences were astounding.

The cars, buildings, water, and air were the same, but everything was different.

I guess we get used to subtle nuances of everyday life like running water, air conditioning, and safety.

I went to Oaxaca, the capitol city of that Mexican state. I'm not a big fan of my current city, but the worst part of the city on its worst day is the BEST part of Oaxaca on their BEST day.

Considering all of the water we drank was from bottles and the water we did use for showers was brown (Yes, brown. ), it's no wonder why so many drink Coca Cola (and Pepsi). It's safer because, if you think about it, Coke is better than festering water. Brown, bacteria-filled water. 

Even such a relatively short distance showed a huge change. The abject poverty was everywhere, and communist signs were spray-painted on every city wall and fountain. "For them, any governmental version is better that the one they live in," so my guide mentioned to me.

Amazing how rich we are in America.

Character Sketches

From a notebook.