Ignore the grey colour. I’m trying to increase my text size in my story for college. Each section is in a box, but as I enlarge them they overlap the drawings a bit more, so I’m increasing the text but reducing the size of the boxes slightly. Done twelve so far, six to go! Argh!
Two feet stood looking at the print… A single paw print. No more? Had it sprung down from the air and then leapt back up, to where?
Two feet thought ‘could it be a uniped? A single leg topped by what? A canine form of cyclops? Did such a thing exist, and if so how did it get around? Hopping like a one legged Sparrow? What did it eat? Should two feet be wary?
Barking from down the road, a violent noise that grew larger. Even though the unidog may be miles away sweat broke on his brow. Two feet did not stay. Not wanting to meet such a monster.
He was only two feet tall, after all!
When Sam woke he didn’t know where he was. He was lying on a couch with a cushion shaped like a cat, and a knitted owl staring at him. His head felt groggy and he was thirsty.
He stood up and stretched. He quietly looked round the room. There were two plush armchairs and lots of clutter stacked about the place. Mainly books on shelves built into the alcoves on either side of the chimney. There were pictures all over the walls and an easle in one corner.
There was a smell of cooking wafting from the kitchen. It smelt like chicken. Suddenly his taste buds were jumping. He strolled towards the cooker. ‘Well hello boy’ said the woman standing by it stirring the food. ‘you hungry?’ ‘would you like a drink?’ He looked up at her, she was very tall.
‘Miarow’ a strange sound came out of his mouth, boy she was Very Tall. He tried again ‘miaow, murrp’. WHAT THE HELL?
He suddenly realised, his tail swishing from side to side. He was now a cat!
Before dawn someone in will die. The wolves are howling, it is not safe to go out…
So said the old man as he sat in the shack in the woods. He was with his best friend, a man twenty years younger, who had decided to visit for the weekend. I have my gun loaded, said the old man, I will protect us.
But no one has been killed by wolves in a hundred years, said his companion. Why do you think it will happen? Because of the blood moon came the stern answer.
As they settled down for the night clouds drifted over the moon, soon the storm hit. Snow fell deep, piling onto the shacks roof. One foot, two, four, finally eight. The snow was suffocating them, the fire had been allowed to burn low and suddenly snow fell down the chimney. The roof started to collapse, snow sifted in like sugar, through the cracks…..
The younger man woke with snow covering his face, cold, wet and smothering. It was pitch black, then the feeble rays of the blood moon penetrated the dark. With its help he struggled free. He had to locate his friend, the man was breathing, but unconscious. He dug him out with his hands and the help of the rifle.
Outside his truck was covered, it would take him ages to dig it out. Until then there was no chance of shelter. The shack was a jumbled mess.
All he could do was keep digging, hoping to get to a door, though whether his key would open the lock he doubted. It might be frozen shut.
A howl drifted through the night. The sound startled the digger who fought harder to shift the snow. The howl was closer, creeping towards them. He checked his friend, still breathing, but deathly pale and cold. If the wolves didn’t get them the freezing wind and snow would.
But slowly he was tiring, he had barely moved a few feet of snow. The sweat he was generating was freezing on his body. He started to shiver and his teeth chattered.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glowing eyes. First two, then four, then more. He closed his eyes, waited for the bite….. It didn’t come. Instead he felt the warmth of one of the wolves leaning against him, then another on the other side. Wolves are large creatures and the weight of them pulled him down to the ground. The warmth after the cold was making him drowsy.
In the morning the search party found both of them, fast asleep. There were indentations in the snow showing where the wolves had lain down. A rough count showed that twenty or so wolves had slept around the two men, helping warm them.
Later the old man admitted he didn’t believe it, but it must be true. The gun would never be used again…
( don’t try this at home folks, it’s just a story,).
I’ve just seen the third and final episode of a Christmas Carol, adapted from the novel by Charles Dickens, but with much more details and ‘plot twists’.
Gone is the vaguely cute Scrooge of the original, who is somehow not that nasty, at least compared with this Scrooge. But there is more back story about what caused his intransigence and avarice. There is also much more about what he and Jacob Marley did to his employees, the evil actions that harmed them.
On the whole this was a much more adult adaptation, including swear words and sexual exploitation. Once I got over the fact that it was more of a rewrite than an adaptation I actually enjoyed it. Scrooge does not end up gloriously happy (spoiler alert), but he is changed and his attitude to others is improved. It feels like there might even be a sequel!
Dolls house on the stairs, guarding the rooms above. Just a wooden box basically, denying access.
Now someone approaches, but a draft seems to blow from the painted doors, like someone breathing out.
A step up, high heels clunk on the wood. Impatient to pass, the figure still hesitates. Then, lights illuminate the windows in the dolls house!
She steps back, trips, and falls on her bottom. She stands and looks up at the house, now flames are licking up the walls across the steps and up the stairwell.. A moaning starts..
Back in the office, Val watches the CCTV. That will stop you seeing my husband! She chuckles gleefully.