UPDATE:

New development as posted on the frontpage, Christina and I will be teaming up on a project that can be found on her blog:

https://christinafiction.blogspot.com/

One of the best things, to me, is when I am coerced into engaging in something that I might otherwise not have taken part at these conventions. I will admit, I was tired when we finally rolled into Conglomeration and set show. It’s the end of the steady run of shows, and with the one, spare weekend taken by a somber family event.
Another new convention, and we lit out without expectations, and holding nothing but wonder. Showmaster Kyle caught us and directed awareness to a “panel” in two parts. The first, visual artists and writers got together and swapped a piece. Then, the writers write a piece off of the inspiration from the visual art, and the visual artists work up a piece off of the inspiration from the writing. 

I hadn’t thought ahead enough to bring an art kit (I will know better from now on!), so we went to a little art supply store nearby to Churchill Downs to pick up a pad of paper, and… the Wonder Pencil!!!
They guy manning the store checked on me (probably somehow aware that I was battling a sore temptation to rub my face on the inking papers that they had back there…. soooo smooth!), and turned me on to the PALOMINO BLACKWING!!

Oh my god! 
Actually, I wasn’t really going to buy a pencil. I saw a mechanical pencil in the Emergency Show Kit and was going to use that. I am now ruined by a damn pencil!

So, with my one little Wonder Pencil, I joined the exercise. 

I was then paired with another incredible find. My swapping partner turned out to be one Christina Chapman, a Louisville local. 

(Nicely yellowed picture I took with my camera)

This was the first that I drew off of the work that she had given me. It was way more fun for me to put her into it than some generic demon.

I did another one off of her original writing, mostly because there was one, little thing that caught my eye which I found hilarious. It’s a bloody fight that was brought on by an army who sent some Executioner out to be as obnoxious as possible. So, it gets mentioned that he just rolled up when the protagonists were minding their own business, and built a killing platform and started beheading. 

I know this was not the focus of the story, but my dumb sense of humor honed in on that. It made ME want to just roll up somewhere and go out of my way to build some structure to pester someone out in the woods. 

Anyway, (and notice the awesomeness of the Wonder Pencil, by the way) I am going to post the image that I handed off to her AND the story that she wrote in response… without permission (though I will defend her work to the death for her while I do this) partly because I really HOPE that someone rats me out and she comes after me. 

I tried to get her to link up with me on Facebook. She showed me the account that she found of mine on her phone. It didn’t have a profile picture, but my whole name was there, so I agreed that that was the one. But, I had no idea until I wasn’t getting a request and went to find her that there is a whole other profile for me that has NO action on it that’s been floating out there for years and years and I had no idea! There wasn’t anything shaking on her page since 2013, either, so I feel lost. Maybe an artistic offense (though, obviously not really one) will scare her up. I really want to work with her again on some things. And, if she isn’t in a position for whatever reason to do so, I would really like to read more of her writings! 
This is karmically frustrating! I mean that, too. There is a reason that this kind of missed connection happens like this. I shall let you know as it unfolds what it is, though it may take a few years.

 

So, here are the two pieces:

What To Do With An Uninvited Guest
-by Christina Chapman

 

      “This idiot is going to get himself killed,” she thought to herself. “But they don’t want to hear it from me.” Talia rolled her eyes and let a soft pink flower float up into her mouth.

      These intruders had no understanding of the gravity and foliage of this place, no understanding of her or life here. Sure, flying around in zero G was fun, even Talia occasionally indulged, but crashing to the ground from that height would be objectively painful.

      Oh well. She had shit to get done. Fuck them, she hadn’t invited them to her domain. She turned her back to the intruders- their mess and equipment strewn about disgusted her. Talia took each step with caution, sensing the changing air, She planted roots with her feet, sensing the changing air. She planted roots with her feet, sewing her own flowers with each step.

      The idiot had bounced his way up a cliff and lept off it so he could soar in the air. Gravity returned and he fell hard. He would have been better off if he had gone up the mountain, because at least then he’d be dead quickly.

      Talia felt the impact of his fall through the roots she had planted there last week. His spine gave way with a satisfying snap, which would have paralyzed him, but was survivable, but the puncture he’d sustained from landing on the equipment drew blood.

      The unpicked flowers budded with anticipation, the blood calling to them. They grew, young at first, springing up along the roots Talia had laid down. It would be too late by the time the intruders noticed it.

      It always went down the same way- first the flowers were ignored, then they were commented on as pretty, then interesting, and then the screaming would begin and wouldn’t end until all of the intruders had died.

      Talia made her way home and rolled a stone over the entryway to help muffle the sound. She only had a few seconds before the screaming started and she needed to bake bread for tonight’s dinner.

      She plucked two soft mushrooms from her arm and stuffed them in her ears to help mask the noise. The second intruder was screaming now and Talia was more than a little annoyed by his disruption of her quiet home. Talia went about her business, crushing flowers and mixing them together before pouring them into her bread pan.

      She sensed the coming change and laid out roots so she wouldn’t float away, anchoring herself to the ground. The screaming stopped and her roots returned to her, birthing bright red flowers on her kitchen floor.

      “My warnings might be more effective if I let them see or hear me,” she thought to herself. “Oh well. I didn’t invite them, anyway.”