A SPLASH OF COLOR

 

 

I'm a big fan of comics, fantasy art and graphic designs with a dark mysterious flair. The darker and scarier the better. That said I also enjoy a little splash of color and humor stirred into the mix just for contrast. This I feel has to be done with care or you end up with a sappy mess. Just where that blend begins and ends is up to the writer initially and then you add the art. Here's where you either are a multi talented genius and can do it all or you're me. Oh sure I can string a few words together and tell a story on my computer as long as I have my son Patrick as back up. He's the tech savvy computer wiz, and my wife Carol as my financier and agent to keep me from falling off a cliff.

Growing up in Texas as a wild child in the sixties I was surrounded by relatives that could draw and paint with some skill. Unfortunately that particular talent was not in my genes: can't out draw a first grader.

I have been fortunate in my travels in that no matter where I land; no matter how far off the expressway I traverse. I can always find talented artists to collaborate with. Here in remote Mystic Canyon, nestled among the coyotes and cacti I have discovered a budding flower of artistry. Not yet nineteen Julie Edwards has that perfect blend of dark chaos and comic color.

For so long my crossbreed characters lived in E-books visual only through the reader's imagination. Now they have faces and form for which the eye can see. Here they are for your viewing pleasure.
 

“I am Skullduggery, and I serve my master Lazarus Zurga, Czar of the un-dead,” an evil laugh filled the arena. The truck's rear doors slowly opened, a purplish gas belched forth when a platform slid out the back, on it lay a highly polished black coffin etched with silver glyphs and writhing serpents. The platform tilted so the coffin came to rest in a standing position. The dancing girls pulled open the lid, inside a tall gaunt figure lay in a deathly repose on purple velvet. A sickly, pale greenish pallor made it seem as if he truly was dead. The girls touched and stroked the corpse in a sexually suggestive manner, yet dead he remained. The Bleeder fans were becoming agitated and began to chant his name. “Zurga! Zurga! Zurga!”

Skulduggery laughed his diabolic laugh. “As desirable as the devil’s daughters are, you know only one thing will bring the master back from the black sleep,” crazed howls and screams came from the throng. “Let the blood flow!” he demanded.
At that the devil girls produced a tall silver goblet and went around the fence holding the ornate cup so the Bleeders could cut their fingers and drip their blood into the skull shaped vessel.
The Voodoo dancers collected the gruesome elixir and made a show of pouring it on the dead man’s thin dry lips. Afterward, they resumed the suggestive attempt to revive him and this time his yellow-green eyes opened, he rose from his resting place to the deranged, delight of his fanatical followers. Crimson ooze trickled from his mouth, a long forked tongue darted out and captured the red liquid. A twisted smile let the fans see his sharp, curved fangs.

A steel step lowered to allow Zurga to easily get into the tall truck. The bovine beauties assisted him onto the elevator step, slowly it carried them up. Standing on the running board outside the cab posing for the fans in a black costume with imperial purple trim, he spoke to them in a strange lisping accent. “My devoted fans, I have risen once again to do battle for your pleasure. I serve you and only you. I know your needs as well as I know my own,” drawing his words out slowly, excitedly, as a schoolyard pervert seducing a virginal youth. A sickening grin stretched across his pale, shallow face, as he stroked each girl from their supple thighs to their sharp little horns. “How do you like my horny— heifers?— They’re so devillicious, are they not?” Wolf calls, howling and barking filled the arena. “In you go my pets.”Both girls bent over exposing their shapely rears to the crowd. Zurga

patted their firm, butt cheeks and stroked their tails as they crawled inside. “After the battle I think

I’ll get a little tail.”

The mob lost control and attempted scaling the fence; screaming and chanting. “Zurga!

Zurga! Zurga!”
The strange creature called Lazarus Zurga, held out his arms to the mad howling mob, as if
to absorb their primal essence, sated with their blood lust he bowed low to them, then vanished
into the Monster Hearse.
The mighty Skullduggery revved and roared. “Bring on all challengers and let the blood
flow.”

Murphy was just about to impute the gate code, when everyone’s attention turned to a faded blue Chevy pickup truck, careening around the corner. Engine racing, tires squealing, smoke blowing from the exhaust. The driver jerked the steering wheel hard to the right, whipping the truck toward the men. Gravel sprayed in all directions as the vehicle slid sideways. Abruptly, the driver hit the brakes, causing the pickup to grind to a halt in a cloud of dust. Griff and Butch had instantly adopted defensive postures.

Murphy grimaced and fanned the dust with his hat. “Tequila, that beater is older than I am. What’re you trying to do throw a rod?” his voice low and scolding.
The blinding glare of the sun made it difficult to see the driver clearly through the dusty windshield, except for a wide brimmed hat and a wild shock of hair. The driver’s door swung open with a rusty-metallic screech.“Now don’t use that tone with me, you grouchy old meany head.” The young girl drawled, as she slid from the cab and lightly landed on the ground. Her black western boots barely made a dint in the gravel driveway, as she squared off opposite the men. Sprouting from the high top boots a pair of long shapely legs, bare up to her blue denim shorts. The cut off hems rolled tightly around her silky thighs. The shorts snug over her curvy hips were synched tight around her thin waist with a black belt and silver buckle, adorned with a brace of pistols. Hanging from the belt a black leather holster cradling a Smith and Wesson .38 Special, with a white pearlescent grip.
“You don’t wanna get me mad now... I just might have to do a Texas tap-dance al-l-l over you,” Tequila's slow western drawl snuggled around her words like a cozy kitten.

Butch took Jessie's new gun and went to work programing it, after a half hour he was satisfied and handed it to Jesse. “All set, all you need do is strap it on.”

Jesse did as instructed, the holster clung to his leg like a custom fit. “It’s light, I like that.” He reached down and took the grip. Instantly he felt it charge. Then he drew it out.

“Howdy deputy, name’s Hoss and I’m ready for duty,” the cyber pistol spoke in a scrappy

little robot voice with a country twang.

Jesse looked at Butch; siting back in his chair appearing pleased with himself. “Hoss? And

what’s with the deputy bit?”
“All I did was set him to the western mode so you two would fit together, I didn’t pick his name. Talk to him, not me. Tell him who’s boss.”

“Okay, Hoss, I’m Jesse Colt Badham worlds greatest stunt rider and trick shot, got it?”

“Your DNA test checked out or you’d be down in the dust pard, I know who ya are.”

“Good then let’s get a little practice in so you can get use to my style.”

“Set up a target tenderfoot, let’s see what ya got.”

Butch quickly set up a chunk of deadwood fifty feet away.

“Set to level one, pard and try not to shoot your own foot.”

“He’s kinda sassy,” Jesse observed.

Butch grinned, “I like him.”

Jesse gripped and ripped, the draw was slow and clumsy, the shot missed the stump.

“My granny can draw fastern’ that,” Hoss quipped
Jesse tried again.
“Ain’t no second place in a gun fight pard.”
Again.
“Missed, if that was a rattler he’d a bit ya.”
“Something is wrong Butch fix it.”
Butch chuckled at Jessie’s frustration. “It’s just that your not thinking right. He’s cyber-linked to your brain and you’re still trying to draw like you had a regular gun. Open the link, and let him work for you.

Khimaira lounged seductively, just out of reach of his claws. Her graceful lines strong, athletic, her long antelope horns gleamed in the fire light. “Which would you prefer to devour? The dead fish or sate your natural hunger with me. To taste my tender living flesh in your mouth, to feel the hot spray of my blood on your face as you slice open my veins with your fangs.” Stroking her inner thigh as she spoke.

“Come a little closer,” his voice a low growl.
She smiled at him. “Yes, I have no doubt you would kill me. Sadly, you would let me rot and eat the dead fish. You’ve become too civilized, we of the wild understand the dynamics of the predator and the prey, one cannot live without the other. It’s the natural order.” Using her spear, she pushed the table to within his reach.
“Last meal for the condemned?”
“Only if you wish it.”
“Let me guess, you keep me on a short leash as your well fed and pampered pet. For a price.” His snow leopard tail twitching.
“Join me Butch, I don’t want you to die. It’s your choice, but either way, you should eat.”
He sniffed the food and water suspiciously.
“Really Butch, if I wanted you dead or sedated I would’ve had the guards do it. I much prefer you awake and talking to me.”
Surrendering to his raging hunger, he set upon the feast. Between mouthfuls he managed to get a few words out. “Your spies should have told you— the machine doesn’t work.”
“Not yet, but they say you’re the grand master techie.”
“I’m not good enough to crack the DNA key code,” talking and chewing.
“You think I’ll free you, if it doesn’t work?”
“Not at all. I think you’re a sick bitch, who takes pleasure in watching helpless men die in agony. You plan the same for me.”
“You’re wrong, I do what I’m forced to do. We must survive any way we can.”
“By Murdering for AARDVARK?”
Her cheek twitched at the name. “You could change that. You could be our teacher. You could have anything you desire.” Her hands caressing her breasts.
“The fish wasn’t bad, just a little overcooked for my taste.” He downed the last of the water and licked his lips.
Khimaira shot to her feet twirling her spear over head, eyes flashing, her proud amazonian breast glaring at him. The deadly spear tip came to a stop, aimed at his chest.
The claw of his pinky finger picked at his teeth.“Is this where I cower at you feet, begging for mercy?”

Griff shouldered the 12 gauge and probed the blackness, his night vision could gather low light enough to see large objects, but fine details eluded him. The room was huge and required a thorough search. He kept Ursula close behind as he crept forward. Several times he paused listening for any sound. His first warning of danger came not to his ears, but from a fetid stench, faint at first, but soon became overpowering. The malodorous reek of animal musk and decomposing flesh.

Behind him he saw Ursula covering her face with her white cloth, and fighting the urge to retch. Slowly he backed her up, guiding her in the dark with his free hand. As they retraced their path backwards, a shuffling sound began to trail them. Griff held her still and peered down the long barrel of the formidable weapon. Slowly and very gently so as not to startle her he pushed her toward the entrance. The stealthy shuffling began again on feet not wholly human, then a large black shape shifted from behind a massive machine. Only for a second, then moved back out of sight. Seeing they weren’t alone he urged her down the hallway. The stalker’s foot steps kept pace with the quarry. 
Griff moved away from the rasping sound, taking care not to make any noise, yet it
continued to follow. As it drew closer they heard heavy breathing. He turned to Ursula and signed for silence and made a running gesture with his fingers.
She got the message and as quietly as possible hurried to the end of the hall. Griff slowly retreated
backward while facing his deadly shadower. The huge dark mass suddenly appeared in the doorway,
filling the space with it’s bulk. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of a rack of twisting horns, the lower
pair curved down around the small dark eyes. The thick powerful arms supported it’s upper body.
The wide snout flared and sniffed the air. A broad leer scalped the lips back showing a set of
gleaming white teeth, the great mouth parted slightly and a low mirthless laugh drifted out of the
cavernous hole that was it’s gullet.
Griff braced himself and drew a bead. Breathing deep, slow and steady he marshaled his wits and will as every instinct argued in favor of running, steady as an oak, he stood his ground.
Ursula reached the door, as six rapid blasts reverberated down the hall. They all cringed at
the blood crazed howl that followed. A second later, they heard rapid foot falls rushing toward
them. Griff flew through the door so fast he couldn’t stop til he slammed into the wall at the opposite end of the room.
“What is it?” she yelled.
Sucking in a single gasp of air he choked out one word. “DEMON!”

Julie is working on another piece I can't wait to present it to you.

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