Lucid Waking

This is the last of them:

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Filed under: Art, Photography by Bri
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Filed under: Art, Photography by Bri
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        The sky outside the window was ashen as was the rest of the world underneath it. Only the track for a few meters ahead of the engine was visible and the faint outline of a roof and pillars to mark the station outside the train doors. He watched her as she waited for the doors to open and then glide up the steps into a compartment to sit on a red velvet seat just like everyone else. Her mahogany hair was pulled back into a tight swirled bun so that the contrast between her hair and the sharp line of her mask was even more apparent. She wore an overly ornate Venetian mask that he had seen photos of amidst other marks of tourist fascination with Mardi Gras’s madness. A dark smear of blue acted as a thick eyebrow arching over her left eye and then down her nose bridge where it landed in a neat circle of purple. The eye underneath the blue smear was a golden brown whereas the other one, beneath an exaggerated array of black lashes on her mask, was blue. She wore a summery, strapless dress with a black bodice and empire waist raining down a skirt with every color imaginable—even some without names.
        He reached to adjust his own mask, painted black with white and red swirls like vines or drips dancing around the face. She glanced at him before sitting down a couple seats away from his. He moved over so as to be closer to her, but she refused to acknowledge him and kept her bicolored eyes on something outside her window. But what he saw was nothing but a wet, shimmery gray.
        The conductor yelled out into the open space before shutting the doors with the slam of hollow metal. The train whistle screamed into the mist before the steady chug of the engine kicked in and sped the cars into the fog.
        “You seem nervous,” he said. She turned sharply to face him and he extended his hand. “Max Blackbourne.”
        She glanced at his outstretched hand for a second before taking it and giving it a hearty shake. “Forgive me,” she said in a lavender voice, “I don’t remember my name.”
        Max shrugged. “I didn’t either, I just made that one up during the ride.”
        “Oh?” she said in a more relaxed voice. “Then I’m Ivette Campo. Pleasure to meet you.”
        “That’s a pretty name.”
        She shrugged. “I heard it somewhere. Probably the opera. Do you like music?”
        “Not that kind of music.”
        “Then you probably haven’t been introduced to it properly. I don’t suppose they have a phonograph around here?”
        Max shook his head. “If they do, there aren’t any records.”
        Ivette sighed. “Of course, that would be the way of things, wouldn’t it?” She shifted in her seat so that it was more natural to speak with him, but she faced the opposite side of the car and put her hands in her lap. “Where are we going, anyway?”
        Max shrugged. “I don’t know.” (more…)

Filed under: Fantasy, Fiction Prose by Bri
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Filed under: Art, Photography by Bri
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I went to the Botanic Gardens last Thursday because I hadn’t gone there in a long time and thankfully, nothing about it really changed. I had a lot of fun, got a bit of sun, and took about 140 pictures. I thought I’d stop uploading now that the gallery has 90 pictures and continue later. So, here is part 1:

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I would have had this up sooner if I could upload the original version, which had both rightside up and upside down views. But, I decided to put up one anyway, because I’d hate to have my hard work not seen. What took this one so long was that the drips had to dry and as a terpintine wash, it took a while. But, here it is at long last:

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Filed under: Art, Paintings by Bri
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        Eleven o’clock is pitch black. You’re walking a dog, but it’s too late at night. It can’t be the real reason you’re out, it really can’t. But you can’t remember why you’re there. You can’t remember anything.
        No drugs in your system, but your vision is cloudy and your head is light. The dog leads you around the block faithfully, but you aren’t sure which house is yours or where the dog came from. It pulls hard against the leash and you follow it, unsure of where you’re going.
        Dawn’s pallid head appears on the horizon and you can finally see in the growing light your destination. The dog sniffs at a piece of iron sticking out of the ground like a sign. You read the words:

CAUTION: due to the use of artificial air in our system, symptoms of lightheadedness, restlessness, blindness, deafness, memory loss or nausea may occur. Please use a gas mask when entering and exiting our facilities and leave quickly when you experience these symptoms.

Thank you for visiting Dilmun! We hope you’ll come again!

(more…)

Filed under: Fiction Prose, Paradise Lost, Science Fiction by Bri
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Hi, you’re friendly author/artist here. I doubt anyone has noticed so far, but I thought I’d bring up some changes that have occurred recently. In order to get more feedback on my art as well as writing– and to break up all of the text that appears–I’ve decided to put photos and art on the home page, i.e. in the blog. Everything is going on the blog and it will be treated like it is–a log/diary/journal.

This isn’t to say that the rest of the site is going to be lax. My portfolios will be updated when I feel like it, but you’ll know when I’ve put something up because it will be on the home page and in the archives. I’ve gone through and added posts for all of the artwork on the days they were originally published. Stories, poems, and prose that I like will go up on the Favorites page as well as Best of the Blog winners. So if you don’t want to go through the archives, but want more than what’s on the front page, go there for your written work and the art pages for visual stuff.

But that’s not all! Commentary and Site Updates page…gone forever. Anything I have to say will be put in a post on the easily accessible front page. Commentary will be in an Author’s note on the bottom of the post. You don’t have to read it, but it’s there just in case. I’ll still keep a running tab on prose/poetry post numbers as well.

Pages may be renamed or added to make the site easier and more comprehensible. I’m still working, but expect changes–visual and otherwise–for the better.

Filed under: Nonfiction, Updates by Bri
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        He smelled her long before his eyes could adjust to see her: the putrid smell of manufactured lilacs, faint odor of nail polish, the cigarette smoke, the leather, the makeup. He never gagged, but he felt like he should have some sort of reflex kicking in to counter the wall of odors into which he walked. When his eyes adjusted he could see her silhouette and she turned to face him, making her Grecian nose and full lips, which were noticeable in her profile, invisible.
        “I didn’t think it was a good enough night for you to be out on the prowl,” she said in her thick, fake Assyrian accent. She always liked flaunting her ethnicity.
        “Cut to the chase, Lucine. I got your letter and you aren’t here to taunt me.”
        She took an irritated drag from her cigarette. “Then you know why I asked you here.”
        “I’m a little puzzled as to why here, but that’s not really the issue you plan on addressing.”
        She sighed dramatically. “Maybe we should sit down; I’m getting a little light headed.”
        He rolled his eyes, but followed her retreating figure to a bench she knew was there. She took another deep breath and then turned to face him again. She forcefully grabbed both of his hands and placed them on her lap, so that she could bring her face closer to his. The stench of her perfume and makeup were consuming and he bit his lip to keep from gagging, but she didn’t notice.
        “I’d like to apologize for leaving you high and dry at the show,” she said. “You deserved to get paid for all of your work and I should have made sure to see you first after I was done performing. Regardless of the fact that I had delicate matters to deal with regarding recording contracts and performing deals, I needed to put my best bassist first and I’m very sorry. In fact,” he heard her leather coat creak as she reached inside a pocket and shoved a wad of balmy paper in his hands, “here’s the money plus a little extra for your troubles.”
        He put the cash in his pocket and slid farther down the bench to get away from her. “Right. And what’s this little rumor I heard that you’re hiring all new musicians?”
        “Not true,” she said. “I’d never get rid of Nadine.”
        He laughed. “Nadine told me you were getting a new band, but she’s on contract, so you can’t get rid of her yet.” He stood up and tried to get his bearings, making one last valiant effort to get the last word in the conversation: “That was a good act you put on—and thanks for the cash.”
        But he knew she always ended things and as soon as he had found the path back out of the park, he felt her at his shoulder floundering after him in her high-heeled shoes.
        “Good luck finding a job with the market these days. Not much demand for a musician and you know, without me, you’re just a nameless face.”
        He made an effort to smile. “That only means I have something to build on, instead of being stuck with a reputation that’s killing my career.”
        “Killing it? You clearly haven’t seen the tabloids. Well, toodles! I hope you die in a ditch.”
        He paused as she turned her back on him and swaggered down the sidewalk to where her chauffeur was waiting in her red car. “I hope you do, too,” he mumbled back to her as he turned the opposite way to walk around the block. His car was parked right behind hers, but it wasn’t worth the hassle to be around her any more than he had to be.

(more…)

Filed under: Realistic Fiction by Bri
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With a model and everything!

and a flower:

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Filed under: Art, Photography by Bri
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