Horace

 Poor Horace, only a few days undead.  His body hasn't even had the proper time to start rotting away.

Don't feel too bad for him though.  He's a hip zombie with his Z shoes (The only shoe for the corpse on the go) and he's found a bone to gnaw on.  Soon he'll be turning many walking meat bags into dinner.

Horace is 6" tall and made with Sculpey clay and acrylic paints.

Pumpkins

Why are pumpkins so much fun to make?  Who cares, I think I'll make some more very soon!

These little guys are only about an 1.5" tall.
Made with paper clay and acrylic paints.

I think I should name them...but what to call them?

A Story for Eliza Part 3

The Encounter

Eliza often felt the presence of the dead in the small cemetery as she walked the dirt path just behind the graves. The road ran between her home and the fast growing city of Indianapolis. Many times she would see ghosts walk out of the woods and disappear into the early morning mist as they crossed the path and made their way over to the small creek that ran parallel the dusty trail. For years she walked this path and felt the suffering of the dead. She never feared the spirits; they typically kept to themselves, probably unaware of their own presence.

That was until a particularly warm spring day as Eliza looked for mushrooms. Pushing deeper into the woods, she came to a small clearing of trees. Five small rocks had been arranged to form a crude circle no larger than the length of an arm. A fire ring perhaps, but there were no signs of fire or ever have been one. No ash, no scorching of the rocks. Eliza quickly forgot the circle when she spotted another reward. Near the center of the smattering of rocks, a small treat grew up from the humus. The familiar spongy yellow cap with a white base was like chocolate to Eliza. She smiled her big, toothy grin as she entered the circle for her familiar treat.

Her mouth watered, but she was not quite ready to pick the mushroom; instead she knelt down to admire its beauty. She knew these gifts of the woods were few and far between and they would not last but another couple of days. The stem would have no roots, but she must be careful to not break it off too high. She did not want to lose one single morsel of the fungus. Carefully, she moved her finger slightly into the moist ground, scooping up a bit of dirt with the delight. Before placing it in her pocket she gave the sprout a small shake to release the spores back to the ground and thanked the woods. She placed the snack in her pocket quite elated and turned to make for home. That is, until she saw her.

The apparition stood silently behind Eliza. Her ghostly appearance stood just inside the circle. The two women, one alive, one dead stood the same height. Unlike Eliza though, the spirit’s hair was matted, her clothing tattered, her feet bare. The skin was mottled and grey. As the two women stood there in silence, their eyes met. Eliza’s light blue eyes met only darkness. The specters eyes were gone. Black holes now occupied the space that once shown life. The two stood silently for what, to Eliza, seemed an eternity. Their faces inches apart. The darkness of the eyes now seemed to engulf Eliza as she stared into the empty void. While no movement came from the dead, Eliza distinctly heard the words, “Help Us”. A tear as black as the eyes that made it dropped through the pale skin of the spirit. Then just as quickly as she came, the woman was gone. The woods became as before, Eliza gained her wits again and ran for home.

Monsters and Ducks

Warning:  This post is not Halloween related but more of an observation!!!

Driving home this morning after another long night of work on a very busy road in the city, I came across a curiosity this late in the summer.  Speeding just a bit as I normally do on my way home just to get to my bed, I saw a grouping of something ahead in the road.  Luckily, I came up to a red light and I could get a better view of the spectacle slowly crossing the street.  As the light turned green I did not let off my brake.  Neither did the traffic heading in the opposite direction.  The cars behind me did not blow their horn as they saw the deadlock despite the light being green.  

Right in the middle of this 5 lane road, packed full of morning commuters, was a momma mallard, in tow were at least 10 little ducklings.  I say this is a curiosity not because we have never seen ducks here, in fact they are quite common here in the city, but because here it is August, and there are a bunch of little ducklings still yellow in color.

What amazed me the most though, is that here is this tiny little creature, with her even tinier babies, right in the middle of all these monsters weighing hundreds of times more then she does, their engines snarling at her as she crosses the street, and she never gives thought to abandoning her babies.  Her motherly instinct is so strong that she would risk her life for her offspring.  

Now I know what you are thinking...why are you talking about such an insignificant event.  Living in the city, it seems each and everyday there are monsters in this city who kill, beat, rob or abuse a child.  It saddens me that they treat their own species with such disdain.  People will rob you for the tiny little amount of money that you may have in your pocket.  There are mothers and fathers who beat their kids, burn them with cigarettes, throw them across the room, to the point of permanent damage or worse, death.  I just don't see how a person can treat another human being with such disrespect.  

And then...on the other side of the spectrum...this tiny creature, with her tiny little brain, risking everything, moving defiantly, just to give her babies a better life on the other side of the street.

As they made their way up to the sidewalk, I released the brakes made my way home and slept soundly.  I thought about that duck all the way home and her insanely strong instinct to take care of her children.  I wish all human parents had the same instinct as that momma duck.  

A Story for Eliza Part 2

Progress and Change

The end of the 19th century brought about many changes to the majority of the world: Newspapers grew more robust with the invention of the typewriter. Farmers contained their animals on their ever growing farms with a new form of wire fence with barbs. People could go see a moving picture show, and most amazing of all was the ability to talk to other people at greater distances with the newly invented telephone. Yes, everywhere one looked the world was becoming a smaller place and most people were perfectly content with it that way.

Unfortunately many of those changes were reserved for the larger cities. The small town that borders Thorn Creek was notorious for rejecting change. The townspeople appreciate the slow life and old ways that often accompany these small towns. People knew each other and they were well aware of each others’ business.  Little went on without the entire town knowing within just a couple of days. The townspeople knew this to be true, and for the most part it kept them honest. Furthermore, outsiders and newcomers, for the most part, were not welcome.  They were often looked on with suspicion and a good majority were eventually pushed out of town.

One aspect that would never change in this small town were the strict fundamental religious beliefs. Services began early on Sunday morning and lasted through the better part of the afternoon. Men always sat on the right and women on the left. The belief that evil spirits sat on the left shoulder due to Eve’s original sin caused the separation of families in church. There were often revivals in the summer  that lasted the entire weekend. The sweltering heat alone could prove the dedication of the congregation who would sweat the entire weekend in canvas tents erected on the lawn of the church. Sermons of fire, brimstone, and the existence of the devil in the world today often filled the single room Church on each Sabbath day. These fundamental beliefs, coupled with fear of the outside world, eventually would be Eliza's undoing.

A Story for Eliza Part 1

The Forgotten

Near the very back of Thorn Creek Cemetery lie the graves of those long gone. No longer do families tend the markers of their loved ones. Here, the trees have grown tall, mostly overtaking the graves they were planted to give shade to. The grave stones, covered by lichens have unreadable names and are broken with age. They serve as the only reminder that this too is hallowed ground. These woods are quiet. Birds do not sing their fanciful songs, squirrels do not scavenge for food, and deer do not retreat here to escape the hot summer heat. In fact, the only semblances of animal life are thick vines that twist and curl around the trees and across the ground like giant moss covered snakes that never move. Now, in the eternal darkness of the still woods, the spirits of these graves are free to roam about without the fear of sunlight ever touching their spectral bodies.

At the wood's edge stands a testament to days gone by. Here, like the woods, have been forgotten, but there are no trees to overtake the graves, only the grass that has long gone to seed. Like a phoenix rising up out of the grass and weeds is Eliza. Unlike the Phoenix though, she will never again feel the sunshine kiss her face.

$20 prop challenge

I have to hurry up and finish up my creation for the $20 prop contest over at hauntforum.  I only have 8 days left now to get it finished and entered.  I suppose I'm actually not too far off.  I only have to find a stick....and make it pointy on one end.  Hmmmmmm what am I making with a stick....and PVC pipe...I'll post pictures of it once here once my entry is approved.  I'm actually a little worried about my entry not being approved.  The theme for this year's contest is graveyard madness.  Each entry must belong in a graveyard, mine is a bit of a stretch but hopefully when I explain it the judges will allow my entry.

working with clay

I've found that working in clay is quite enjoyable.  It's cheap, easy to work with, and probably best of all, my many screw ups can be erased just as quickly as I can roll them into a ball and start again.  Sculpey is my clay of choice.  (http://www.sculpey.com/)  For anybody not familiar with it, it is an oven bake clay and dries evenly with no cracking.  I've noticed that thin parts of the sculpt remain slightly flexible even after drying so if the piece is bumped they don't automatically break off.  Once it is dry it accepts paint well with no chipping or flaking.  Anyway, enough kissing up to the corporation.

Like I said my projects are quite simple.  My first sculpt was nothing more than a little toe pincher coffin.  I originally had the idea of putting a green led inside of it to give it a nice eerie glow but decided against it.  It's still nice and hollow anyway.

The second piece I did was something I had in my head for a long time.  It's just a tree with a couple of gravestones and a little pumpkin.  I don't know why I had been thinking of this particular sculpt for such a long time.  I am quite happy with how it turned out though.  The tree is my favorite part and the leds really make it look quite strange.  

If you want to see some really good uses of clay go to any of the Masters of Spooky sites to the right. DeadSpider's facebook page has some excellent examples of spooky miniatures (https://www.facebook.com/deadspider.page)

Annie

Little Annie Page was just at the sweet age of three when her life ended.  Being born of wealthy parents Annie had already seen more of the world than most adults will ever see in their entire lives.  She had seen the great Roman ruins in Italy and watched her father hunt lions in Africa.  Not that any of this mattered to Annie.  She did not care about the buildings or the food or all the other excitements that come from a life of travel.  No, Annie was quite content just being with her parents and of course her dolly.  Her parents hated to drag the old thing everywhere they went, but they knew their travels would be complicated if dolly wasn't in tow.  Annie's normally cherub demeanor would turn sour and she was said to cry for hours on end until the dolly was returned.

 The Family  nearly missed the next endeavor because they foolishly left the dolly behind as they hurried out of their relatives home who never moved from the old country.  The family left long before the sun ever cracked the horizon.  As they were nearing the dock, Annie awoke to see her precious dolly had been left behind.  She screamed and cried until her father gave in.  He ordered the driver to turn the carriage around so that the dolly could be retrieved.  He knew this leg of the trip and all the other trips would not be enjoyable until the dolly was back in the hands of his precious daughter.  The horses panted as the carriage returned to the dock, with a now much more happy Annie.  The whip of the driver now ceased, the horses stood in the pre-dawn morning watching the family walk down the dimly lit walkway to the docks.

Annie's father looked in awe at the Royal Charter.  She was a new style clipper ship and supposedly one of the fastest ever made.  He tried to emphasize the importance of such technology to his daughter but she was much to small to understand.  He told her how the ship had sails but it also had two steam engines that could propel the ship through the water in the absence of wind.  The ship held nearly 600 passengers and he was going to be one of  the firsts to ride.  This modern marvel kept him in an almost trance like state as he waited in line to board the ship.

Nearing her destination the Royal Charter encountered waves of increasing size.  The weather turning the glassy black water into large swells that now tossed the ship.  Annie and her family were hunkered down for the evening in their extravagant first class cabin.  As the ship listed back and forth Mother began to worry.  She had been through many storms on ships, but none of this magnitude.  The worry began to show on her face.  Her worry was soon picked up by Annie.  The color left her face and her eyes began to well up.  Her dolly clutched tightly in one arm, the other wrapped around her mother's leg.  Father assured her that this is new technology.  The ship can handle a storm twice the size.  He once again boosted about the steam engines that could move them along even when the sails were tied.  His confidence in the ship was strong.  If only the ship was as strong.  The black water came rushing into the cabin as the ship listed for the last time.

The next morning the waves that claimed the Royal Charter had calmed.  There was no sign of the ship or her inhabitants.  News rang out that she sank and no survivors had been found.  The headlines told of the number of dead and how prominent people had drown.  Headlines change and focus goes to the next great story.  That is, until a week later when a small body had been discovered along the Welsh coast.  A small girl about the age of three, a white dress covering her small body.  Skin beginning to peel from muscle, her eyes missing, probably eaten by the fish.  The only true identifier was the dolly that she still clutched in her dead hand.

Annie was returned to her hometown and buried in Thorn Creek Cemetery.  She is buried alone as her parents bodies were never recovered.  Many children have told stories of seeing the small girl standing near her grave crying and still clutching her dolly.  Her sobs and image fade as the children move closer to investigate...but they're just children, and children tell stories.