Carja

Why Does My Head Hurt and Other Musings

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Dec 162013
 

Another Monday, another blog. What shall I write about this week?

I’ve been having an unpleasant tingling in the back of the head for the past couple of days. I’m not sure what the cause is. It’s not painful per se, just…unpleasant. Anybody ever get that? If I’d been bitten by a radioactive spider I’d say it was a sixth sense (or Spidey sense if you will) kicking in, but a) I haven’t been bitten by a radioactive spider and b) whatever bad thing coming my way that my sixth sense detected should have happened by now.

My Christmas shopping is done. For this my wallet is grateful. I was supposed to go shopping with my sister on Sunday to look for a Christmas present for my mom but we pushed it up to Saturday. Turns out that was a wise decision since on Sunday there was a big snowstorm so being out on the road would have been less than pleasant. My next job is to wrap everything!

I drew my first strips for 2014 this weekend. Those strips also marked the end of my three strips a week schedule. I’ll be going back to two strips a week starting on January 7th. Having done it for a few weeks, I can say that I don’t like drawing three strips in a weekend. I may do it again in the future if I feel the need, but otherwise I’m content to let a story take the time it needs to. This story was much too long to hope to get all in before Christmas considering when I started it. It’s a more ambitious storyline than I originally thought it would be.

I came up with another game idea. I thought that if I have a table at Comic-Con next year it might be fun to have a little game to play with people who stop by. I’m thinking that this could be a game that furs play in Pelaria on the level of checkers but with cards. It should be fairly simple to make something for it. It’s my project for myself over the Christmas holidays.

Meeting Darron – Conclusion

 Stories  No Responses »
Dec 142013
 

The bear ignored the startled looks he got as he walked the boy through town in search of his uncle’s home. The possum barely said two words the whole way there. He felt like he should have said something, but he had never been a bear of words.

Once the boy’s uncle recovered from the shock of finding a bear on his front step, he recounted the events of the day to the elder possum, who joined his nephew in mourning the loss of his sister and brother-in-law. When the bear was satisfied that the boy was in good paws, he turned to leave without so much as a goodbye. He wasn’t much for prolonged farewells.

“Wait!” the possum called out to him.

The bear stopped and turned his head back to look at the boy, “What?”

“Will you come back to visit me sometime?” This was the sort of experience that bonded two furs.

The bear shrugged. “I live in the woods.” Words that said it all, he felt. When he saw the disappointment on the boy’s face, he relented. “I come to Vawsing once or twice a year. When I do, I could come by and see if you’re around.”

It was enough of a promise for the boy, “I never got to tell you my name. I’m Darron.”

“Nice to meet you, Darron,” the bear replied. “My name is Barnaby.”

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