Backwards Escape

escape

My escape usually involves a good book and a warm, comfy chair. But how do the characters within my books escape the stressors of their situations? Turn your back on your library for one moment, and you might find out…

Once again messing around for Inktober. Not sure how I feel about the result of this one, but there comes a time when I can’t force my photoshop skills to level up on command and I have to call it good. 

Inktober 2016: Escape

The Waste of Waiting

battle

Rather than waiting for the jaws of death to do their thing, Frank decided that a gentlemanly battle was more appropriate. Although a sharp stick was used in place of the customary slapping glove, Frank felt justified since his aggressor was well outside his weight class. 

Just some more fun with Inktober. This is the result of Jump

Inktober 2016: Battle

Clever Critter

fox

There is nothing clumsy about the clever fox when it comes to hunting. The wonderfully fuzzy face, tilting back and forth in response to sounds pitiful human ears can’t pick up on. The prancing and pouncing that proceed the perfect posture of the jump, the purely predatory progress of the powerful pup, leave the viewer pleased if not slightly perplexed. I find it hard to root for the escape of the rodent after such a display.  

Inktober 2016: Jump
I’m a little disappointed at how far behind I am for Inktober. I’m scrambling to catch up and keep up. Hopefully this isn’t a foretelling of what NaNoWriMo will be like. 

Feline Revelation

 

hidden

While lounging in the garden as part of his morning ritual, Felix found himself too lazy to swat at the approaching butterfly.

The flittering insect circled his nose twice before deciding the pink knob was a perfect place to land. 

Suddenly, Felix realized what it must be like to see the world through the eyes of a Siamese.

Inktober 2016: Hidden 

Noisy

noisy

The savanna was busy, as usual. Claire was having trouble counseling the zebras on individuality, again. Inwardly, she knew it was a wasted effort. Yesterday she had taken the approach of safety: blending in was a good thing, less chance of being eaten. That is when the subject of blending in become a crisis for the young millennial zebras.

Laugher erupted from the small bluff behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see the lone hyena seated comfortably on his haunches. His tongue lulled from his mouth and his eyes were shut tightly, the air escaping his lungs in spurts and snorts.

Claire let out a deep sigh and turned to face the hyena, shaking her finger as she spoke, “This isn’t a laughing matter!”