I draw a mean stick person

I have this thing, I really have no artistic talent.  I never learned.  Somewhere from the brain to the hand it all gets lost.  My art teachers LOVED me in school though because I could guide others and use such good descriptions I could make others really "see" what I wanted to get a cross.  Yet another way I skated through my schooling...  Sadly LD has picked up that trait from his father also, I say that because there's just no way he got that from me.  I don't fault him for not digging the whole artsy-fartsy drawing thing.  But I decided since he was in school last week to buy a sketch pad and what I swore on a stack of bibles were supposed to be colored pencils.  They weren't, they were oil pastels.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to use those on sketch paper?  I wanted to show Little Dude that it could be fun, I dragged out a old easel thing we had in the crawl space, once again proving that I can find damn near anything in that place.

Tuesday, I did "Walk in the Park."  it is an abstract of a nameless faceless man walking through a nameless faceless park anywhere and the things he would see along the way.

Next on Thursday, I did "Autumn Leaf Print."  It was to be a textured leaf picture of a blanket of leafs on the ground in the fall.  The leafs didn't exactly work like I had hoped, but the idea was there, and I liked the pallet I had used.

Lastly I drew "Burn" yesterday.  It was first going to be a swirly cloudy sky, but turned into a multi leveled picture with images within the flames.  I blame the song by Collective Soul, "Burn" as it was in my head the whole evening when I did the flames and switched the focus of the paining.  Because it is far easier to blame it on a music group, and their song then come out and say I'm a pyro.  :-)  "Baby want to burn with me?"

So here is what I have been doing the last week of my life.  All my works from here are up on RedBubble.com if you want to see what else I do.  Most of it is photographs, I got into the site because of my good friend Marsha who has AMAZING works there.  Her art is really worth a look!

School is now back in session and my classes are all new and challenging.  Wish me luck.  I will check in when I can.  If I get a TMOT up, it will be later in the evening as I am booked solid from 7PM-8PM tomorrow.  I know woe is me, right?

A bit more from Wayward

She was looking out the window at the lake with fireworks lighting the distance sky. From where she sat there was a splendid break in the trees, if she cared to watch she wouldn’t be missing a moment of the pyrotechnics. Frustrated she tossed down the dish towel and walk away to the other side of the cabin away from her friend and the sleeping children. Opening the door, she walked out on to the deck and right in to Wolfe.

“How are you holding up? I know that this isn’t the same as what you are used to. I still think it is best for us until it is all sorted to keep you out of the public eye at all costs.” Wolfe put his hand on to Olivia’s shoulder.

Flinching away anger boiled up in her that had been building for weeks. “What’s best for me? You dare try that line of crap with me? I am sick to death of hearing what is best for me. Best for me would be the fact I am not in hiding from some deranged killer who is likely Program trained. Best for me would be my husband would still be alive. Not blindsided and killed by someone and I couldn’t even warn him. I should have buried him two weeks ago. My child lost her father, and neither of us could be there to bury him. Best for me my ass! The Program best be getting its shit together, I failed. I couldn’t riddle out the fact it was one of my inner circle that was behind the string of murders. I was too close, hell you were to close too! Tell me you are doing what is best for me, ha! You are protecting The Program as well as your own standing within it. Now, I am standing out in the middle of nowhere with my best friend, her kid and my own. All of us are scared, and miffed as to what exactly is going on.” Across the deck a flower pot skidded off the side and crashed onto the ground.

“I don’t have the answers. But, I would advise against going all Carrie on us right now. This is neither the time nor the place. No need to let Drea in on anymore about us than necessary. We need to regroup; this was the newest safe house I knew of. As soon as we know Drea and her kid are safe, we can send them off, and back to some semblance of a life.”

“How very noble of you, you will dump them off as soon as you get clearance to do so. She lost her husband you know; I am not the only one.”

“His death is still under investigation. Whether or not he was the one killing all those women is a hot topic in the think tank right now, all the evidence says yes, all the top intuitives are saying the pieces don’t fit. I can’t get a feel for it either way. I cannot see who killed the women at all. I can see him hitting Cade in the head, grabbing the wheel and driving it off the road. But I don’t see Ben’s face as he does it, it’s blurred. I know he was murdered and so were two innocent EMT’s that pulled him from your husband’s car. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Olivia gasped. “You didn’t say anything to me about this. It may have been my husband killed initially, but I could have told you that Ben would never hurt Cade unless he his mind was being swept. They were so close. Is the person who killed Ben and those EMT’s the one who swept his mind? Who are the members of the think tank? Do I know them? Does---"

Wolfe put his hand up to shush her, knowing doing so would either give him a chance to explain what he knew (and could tell her), or set her off again. “The girls are on this. Your Mommy-CON friends are the think tank. When they heard what happened they joined up via The Programs tele-conference link to brainstorm so we decided to use them. Like I said they are confused. They want to come out to us, but till we are sure that no other member will be harmed in this we have to let it all play out from a far. Erin Desiree, and Heather have all felt like something has come back to haunt The Program.” Olivia snorted at the unintended pun. It was Wolfe’s turn to get defensive. “This is not funny; you of all people should know that! Desiree has said she has never felt anything this dark since she was in Columbia with dealing with Dathian. When they hit your house yesterday, they were worried they were in danger and spread out. Don’t worry. Erin got the dogs and puppies out safe she is laying low. Heather of course is trying to divert attention away from your tragedy by trying to convince the city to agree allow her production company to film some movies out there. She is also leaking it to the media, attention is already shifting.”

The fireworks lit up the sky behind him. They were coming to their conclusion he was guessing with their hissing and booming coming to a frantic peak. He looked out toward the darkest part of the woods so she couldn’t see the sadness in his face. Here is was totally dark, and the only light was that of the fireflies. The guilt about what he couldn’t tell his protégé was echoing in his head. What Wolfe couldn’t tell her was that the woods were crawling with The Program’s best non psychic soldiers. Or what they found in the house of the man who physically ended her husband’s life could very well have ended hers instead.

I'll Be Home -Forest Sequence

I'll Be Home -Forest Sequence

Running to the Jeep with Bastian in tow I looked left than right scanning for any signs of a booby trap. This was far too easy I thought as I jumped in and closed the door, key’s still in the ignition. My eyes met Bastian’s in a silent prayer. Never losing the contact, I turned the key.
“No boom.” He said through his breath.
“Yea, it’s kind of strange for Dathian to let us off this easy.” I kicked the Jeep into reverse, the gears working hard as I navigated it backward through the narrow path back to the road. I kept my attention to the rear; Bastian looked to the sides and in front for any pending dangers. The flash of movement was so quick that me peripheral barely picked it up. Slamming on the breaks I was awarded with a hollow thud.
Cursing a red streak we got out of the car as fast as we could and still be cautious. Lying next to the bumper was Vince from the bar, he appeared to be dead. Though I was shaking so badly from everything, I could have missed a faint pulse looking back on it now. “This is going to sound harsh, but help me move him off to the side of the path. A sweeper team will come get his body. If we get pulled over with him in the back by the local police, it will be chaos. We have to get to the safe house.” We both took a part of him and gently lifted him to the side of the road. He stunk of booze, it was soaked in his shirt, a bottle lay crushed against my bumper.
“The rental car company isn’t going to like the fact there is a huge dent in the back. I doubt you get your deposit back,” Bastian quipped. I really was trying hard not to like the guy, but seeing as he was a civilian and was still together enough to tell a joke to lighten the mood after all he had seen since I stumbled back into his live, I was impressed. Not to mention the fact I still thought he was still after all these years smoking hot.
Shaking aside the hormones, I continued maneuvering along the Jeep to one of what seemed like one of the only paved roads in this awful place. I turned toward the way I thought was the safe house when the Jeep sputtered and died. “He had to have done something to the car, only letting us get so far is a deviant psychological game. Right up his alley. It’s all a sick, twisted game to him. I cannot let him get away, even sending him back to The Program; I have to get rid of him.”
“Like kill him, dead? Man, you’ve changed since our school days.” Bastian gulped.
“Yea, it has to be done; he’s far too dangerous to live. No, I am not, now I am just properly trained.” I was trying to not look too defeated as I barked out “I knew it was too good to be true, keep your eyes out for anything and let’s head to that airplane hangar.” We took off out of the car and raced into the dilapidated hanger. Breathing heavily, I looked around. There were plane tracks from more than one small plane. One plane was gone, one still here. I was hoping the family that owned this place was in that other plane somewhere far, far away from this hell. Somehow I doubted it.
“I can’t fly this thing, can you?”
Bastian gave me a slight smile and nodded. He did a fast once over on the crop duster and told me to get in. Man was impressive, and seemingly smarter then he initially let on since he came to my rescue in the bar, and definitely lass daft than he was back in high school.
Now the job was mine to look out everywhere but the way the plane was moving. I heard another in the air but thought nothing of it other than another crop duster. Turning the plane onto the paved road, we realized that is why it was paved so nicely. It acted as a road and a landing strip. We passed the car gaining speed. I had a visual on the other duster, it was landing. I was in panic, waving for them to turn around. They were coming in faster than we were gaining speed. A single person coming in so fast, I instinctively ducked, Bastian pulled the break and ducked also. The wheels of the second duster clipped the top wings, flipping him and us.
Sparks and fire, and the screech of steel on the concrete, I remember Bastian yelling for me to un-strap and dive out. I baled as he did within a second both crop dusters were in flames. The other pilot not as fortunate he burned. I was sure he was another victim of Dathian’s mind control.
We ran to the massive plantation house that for sure was the owners of the hangars home. I sensed we were heading into more of a trap than anything else in the night thus far. As I said before, I am rarely wrong; Dathian and an unexpected friend was there waiting for us. More sick fun for the psychopath at our expense.
“Do you hear a baby crying?” We both looked toward the house in disbelief. Hostages, now that is not Dathian’s style.

A bit from I'll Be Home

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Saturday 6am

“I’ll be home for Christmas; you can count on it...” I didn’t really hear much more of it as I was cursing as I tossed the pillow at the alarm clock. Yelling to no one in particular as the house was as empty as the bottle I had left on the bedside, “The one day I can sleep in and the bloody alarm goes off!” The song was still playing as I groped for how to turn of the music. “I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams…” By the time I had heard the last line I was filled with such fury and tears I couldn’t think straight. Thinking to myself I should really just stop threatening and take the final step and get rid of Noah’s stuff. He never again would be home for Christmas, no matter how badly I wanted him to be there to shut off his alarm clock. His side of the bed, his clock that only goes off when it was an anniversary of the day we got married. The alarm clock always plays only his favorite Christmas song, different singers sure over the last five years, but always the same song. The irony was they had married in the summer and it was already 90 degrees this morning and I was chilled to the core. “This is not fair time after time you mess with things Why can’t you just come to me, damn you! Why can’t I see you? Damn near anyone but you!” I looked at the clock, no time, just music, “Aww shit, stop making the clock play when there are no batteries in it too, it’s just creepy wrong on so many levels!” I was sobbing and felt as empty as the house was without him. Peering at the alarm clock that d its cord wrapped around it and had no batteries in it; seemingly my only tie left on this earth to Noah.
Five years since the day he was snatched from me right before my eyes. Shortly after I regained consciousness from the coma and realized I could communicate with the dead. For the next half year after coming back to the realm of the living, I thought I was going insane. One doctor even had me committed for a couple weeks till they realized that I was not a threat to myself or others. I can laugh about it now, but it’s one of those creepy laughs that make many people doubt I should have ever been let out of those locked doors. Thankfully a very smart and well connected therapist in the clinic connected me with The Program. I have since realized that I am not crazy, it is a side effect of my dying on the concrete next to my husband with me child in my womb. I still wonder why I was left to live, while my husband and daughter died. I reach down to and touched the place my daughter had once been. I feel to a point my own body betrayed me that day, if I could have just taken a couple more breaths, just held on long enough for the EMT’s to arrive they could have saved my daughter. I am told this is survivor’s guilt, and is perfectly natural. I want them to carry a baby almost to term only to have her and your husband taken away in the blink of an eye. Or in my case a dirty bomb that didn’t fully detonate. The shrapnel hit our tour party head on, knocking the group of us off kilter; Noah fell backward almost as if he was trying to cover me and my belly. He crashed into me, I remember the blood, screams, indescribable pain, and falling over an old man who was already dead.
I remember looking down on the scene seeing myself; somehow I ended up belly down, and could see the fluids that were to be protecting my baby quickly leaking out of myself. I heard a voice; I looked over still not grasping what I was seeing below it was carnage. Noah had been right next to the bomber as he exploded his bomb belt he was clearly dead most his body covering mine. The police were on the scene within minutes and tied off the area. They knew there was a threat of an attack on the city. They heard chatter for months about a potential attack and think they knew who and the how till right then they didn’t know the where and when. They had the device that detected radioactive matter, and were not letting anyone go in to the area or out till they knew how bad the contamination was. In that time, I died, my baby died and 6 others including my husband died. There were really seven, but who can count someone willing to kill innocent people a human. I was the only one who was revived, and that was after they weaned me out of my six month long coma. By that time my husband and child were long gone and buried and most of the events of that day left at the wayside as another political corruption scandal occurring in administration of hope and change.
Reading the papers after re awaking PC (post coma) I saw that no war would be raged in the memories of those who died that day on the sidewalk with me that day. They feds did however catch on fast enough to avert 2 other such events in the city scheduled during the memorials for those who died. A double hit, first round kill as many mourners as possible, hole off till the help arrives and take out more in the second wave. Stupid bomber left notes about it in his apartment. Somewhere in a cave there is someone really pissed off I am sure.