My Cupboard of Horror, made this in 2007, god only knows where it is now, my tutor wasn't a fan of this piece but I enjoyed making it.
Hey my name is Robyn, I'm a 20 year old Art student from England, I have a passion for art and I have loved writing short stories for years and I hope you enjoy my work, opinions are appreciated.
Friday 7 January 2011
Cupboard of Horror
My Cupboard of Horror, made this in 2007, god only knows where it is now, my tutor wasn't a fan of this piece but I enjoyed making it.
'Last Life of the Soul' written by myself
I dream of raindrops turning into crystals
Dripping into a pool of melted gold
I hear the whispers from the seashells
Their telling me they already know
I see those silver lights
Burning bright
Dropping from the skies
Is someone hiding from me
To see, I try
Pushing through the shadows
Open up my eyes
I see a tiny star
Burning brightly white
My last life has ended
My soul to bear
A journey completed
I'm finally there. . .
Thursday 6 January 2011
Shoe/Ponytail/Paintbrush
An ink drawing I created inspired by the circle of creation but with a random input.
Dream Castle
A castle made up of random objects in a dream land, I created this piece on paper using Indian Ink and dip pen.
"Gift" written by Myself
I watched my tears as they came together in a shiny, wet miniature pool on the black, mahogany table, biting into my fist trying not to scream out. It burnt like the embers of hell, licking at the skin on the right side of my back.
‘Hold on sweetie it’s almost over’, my grandmother cooed holding me down so I wasn’t tempted to get away. ‘Be quick India the poor girls suffering’.
‘I’m trying but I can’t get it wrong you know that’. I felt a hand stroking my hair, my grandmothers, it helped relax me and I stopped trying to arch my back.
‘It pains me to do this when their still young but this, this is just cruelty. Sadistic Gods, having a good laugh you bastards?’ This last sentence she aimed at the ruling Gods of the elements which my people believed in, and worshipped. It was them that chose our fate, mine happened to be a little earlier than usual.
My head started to feel clouded and when I opened my eyes everything was out of focus. I felt the cold, wet trickle of liquid trailing down my side. I could tell straight away by its strong scent and I felt the thickness of it.
‘Almost done sweetie’, my grandmother played with my hair making me feel sleepy.
‘I’m sorry Violet but you’re going to feel a slight sting’, I heard a spray from the nozzle of liquid then I felt the sting. I released a whimper but my grandmother was fast pushing me back down as I tried to get up.
I was seven when the Gods marked me, the usual age was between eleven and sixteen, but I guess I must have angered the Gods in a past life that they felt the need to punish me in my next.
I can’t remember much from being marked with my sacred symbol, no-one’s is ever the same. It appears in a white flash of pain when it is your time, a mark is left from the burn, but only for a limited amount of time, as it will disappear and your path to the Gods will be broken.
The Inker in our clan is a woman who goes by the name India, after her passion and talent for creating beautiful images out of her preferred material; Indian ink. Her gift was of the marker, she senses when it is time for someone to be marked and has the utensils that only she can use, after the Gods led her on a treasure hunt around the world to find them.
India tattoos the symbol on the body of people in our clan when they become marked, my mark was the crescent moon. About a week after the mark has been filled in the gift will arise in the body, unleashing what power has been given to the possessor of the symbol.
My gift was to shift, into creatures of the night. I’m one of six shifters in our clan and the youngest so far at nineteen. A shifter can change into only three shapes, so far I am an owl and a wolf, and I have yet to discover my third shape.
A creaking of floorboards pulls me out of my day dream, or night dream, the suns definitely not up yet. I open my eyes into small slits, keeping my breathing at a normal level. I take in my surroundings, unfortunately lacking on the visual side as all I can see are shadows and a beam of moonlit floorboards, which the mysterious figure is making sure to keep out of.
I transfer my energy to my ears; the figure is keeping quiet after their blunder with the boards, although I can hear slight breathing, definitely breathing through the nose. Transfer senses to my nose, I can smell something animal. But it’s not that distinctive to say the figure is of animal kind, they’ve been near animals, a horse, hay, I smell hay. Verdict; no threat, just an annoying persistence to bug.
‘You should never sneak up on a sleeping wolf while she rests, they might bite’, I sat up patting the cover beside me for them to sit. Hunter came out of the shadows and sat next to me on the bed. ‘What’s it this time?’ I asked, I may have sounded impatient, but the situation always amused me. Hunter coming into my room at night attempting to sneak up on me was a usual thing.
‘Well I couldn’t sleep and I sensed distress coming from you’, he pulled my pillow from the side putting it behind his back getting comfortable, ‘what memory was it this time’?
‘Like you don’t already know’, I pulled my pillow back and thumped him playfully on the head. Hunter had a sixth sense with animals, and could see into their minds, and communicate with them. With me being part animal his gift also worked on me. ‘Just another excuse to come into my room at night.’ I thumped him again as he laughed and tried to take the pillow from me.
Hunter is sort of a friend, and sort of another thing, he’s complicated. With his wavy scarlet hair, and emerald eyes he’s cute, and he knows this thanks to the mind reading of animals’ thing, which works in my favours as when we communicate I can also see into his. We’re not a couple, were not anything but really good friends, because it is frowned upon for shifters to marry and mate when their true purpose is to protect those of the clan who are weaker. Although sometimes, temptation can be a cruel, sadistic bitch who lures in her victims however weak or strong they are, and I’m her favourite play toy by far.
To be continued . . . . .
‘Hold on sweetie it’s almost over’, my grandmother cooed holding me down so I wasn’t tempted to get away. ‘Be quick India the poor girls suffering’.
‘I’m trying but I can’t get it wrong you know that’. I felt a hand stroking my hair, my grandmothers, it helped relax me and I stopped trying to arch my back.
‘It pains me to do this when their still young but this, this is just cruelty. Sadistic Gods, having a good laugh you bastards?’ This last sentence she aimed at the ruling Gods of the elements which my people believed in, and worshipped. It was them that chose our fate, mine happened to be a little earlier than usual.
My head started to feel clouded and when I opened my eyes everything was out of focus. I felt the cold, wet trickle of liquid trailing down my side. I could tell straight away by its strong scent and I felt the thickness of it.
‘Almost done sweetie’, my grandmother played with my hair making me feel sleepy.
‘I’m sorry Violet but you’re going to feel a slight sting’, I heard a spray from the nozzle of liquid then I felt the sting. I released a whimper but my grandmother was fast pushing me back down as I tried to get up.
I was seven when the Gods marked me, the usual age was between eleven and sixteen, but I guess I must have angered the Gods in a past life that they felt the need to punish me in my next.
I can’t remember much from being marked with my sacred symbol, no-one’s is ever the same. It appears in a white flash of pain when it is your time, a mark is left from the burn, but only for a limited amount of time, as it will disappear and your path to the Gods will be broken.
The Inker in our clan is a woman who goes by the name India, after her passion and talent for creating beautiful images out of her preferred material; Indian ink. Her gift was of the marker, she senses when it is time for someone to be marked and has the utensils that only she can use, after the Gods led her on a treasure hunt around the world to find them.
India tattoos the symbol on the body of people in our clan when they become marked, my mark was the crescent moon. About a week after the mark has been filled in the gift will arise in the body, unleashing what power has been given to the possessor of the symbol.
My gift was to shift, into creatures of the night. I’m one of six shifters in our clan and the youngest so far at nineteen. A shifter can change into only three shapes, so far I am an owl and a wolf, and I have yet to discover my third shape.
A creaking of floorboards pulls me out of my day dream, or night dream, the suns definitely not up yet. I open my eyes into small slits, keeping my breathing at a normal level. I take in my surroundings, unfortunately lacking on the visual side as all I can see are shadows and a beam of moonlit floorboards, which the mysterious figure is making sure to keep out of.
I transfer my energy to my ears; the figure is keeping quiet after their blunder with the boards, although I can hear slight breathing, definitely breathing through the nose. Transfer senses to my nose, I can smell something animal. But it’s not that distinctive to say the figure is of animal kind, they’ve been near animals, a horse, hay, I smell hay. Verdict; no threat, just an annoying persistence to bug.
‘You should never sneak up on a sleeping wolf while she rests, they might bite’, I sat up patting the cover beside me for them to sit. Hunter came out of the shadows and sat next to me on the bed. ‘What’s it this time?’ I asked, I may have sounded impatient, but the situation always amused me. Hunter coming into my room at night attempting to sneak up on me was a usual thing.
‘Well I couldn’t sleep and I sensed distress coming from you’, he pulled my pillow from the side putting it behind his back getting comfortable, ‘what memory was it this time’?
‘Like you don’t already know’, I pulled my pillow back and thumped him playfully on the head. Hunter had a sixth sense with animals, and could see into their minds, and communicate with them. With me being part animal his gift also worked on me. ‘Just another excuse to come into my room at night.’ I thumped him again as he laughed and tried to take the pillow from me.
Hunter is sort of a friend, and sort of another thing, he’s complicated. With his wavy scarlet hair, and emerald eyes he’s cute, and he knows this thanks to the mind reading of animals’ thing, which works in my favours as when we communicate I can also see into his. We’re not a couple, were not anything but really good friends, because it is frowned upon for shifters to marry and mate when their true purpose is to protect those of the clan who are weaker. Although sometimes, temptation can be a cruel, sadistic bitch who lures in her victims however weak or strong they are, and I’m her favourite play toy by far.
To be continued . . . . .
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