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 Posted: Tue May 10, 2005 8:50 pm
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Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 8:57 pm
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 6:08 pm
*Stages*  A feather, brought to me by a strange lady scientist one day. It had since become my muse, and I had kept it with me day and night. It also came with a rubber ball, and for some reason, was hypersensitive to breezes and gusts. It has since evolved. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The red and yellow feather has turned into this darling little boy! I became aware of him as he appeared sleeping on my chest one evening. We have become fast friends, and I don't wonder why, he's a bright, charming child. A little hyperactive, but you take what you have. I wouldn't trade him for the world.
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 6:43 pm
Photo album. I took this snapshot of the two of them after we spent an entire day out on the docks. When we got home, Dian sat down, Hikaro jumped up on his lap, and within five minutes, both were unconcious. It was so cute, I couldn't help myself!-Azyre Here is Hikaro looking smug, as though he knows something I don't. You know, I had better look into that...-Dian Bandaging up Hikaro-Dian Artist's note- Yes, I know I suck at backgrounds, you don't need to remind me. I also realize I forgot poor Hika's markings. sweatdrop 2nd Pic- This picture is unfinished, but I like it the way it is 3rd pic- Simple lineart of Dian bandaging Hikaro's wounded wing, to protect the skin while the new feathers grow in.
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 6:49 pm
Entry one, April 29th,
Dear Journal,
I can sincerely say that the oddest thing that has ever happened to me occured today. I had just gotten off of the phone with mother, who for the umpteenth time asked me if I had settled down with a nice girl yet. Her one goal in life is to be a grandmother, it seems.
"Dian," She said, "When are you going to give up your vagrant life, and find a nice woman to live with? You aren't going to be young forever, and I won't be around for much longer."
I don't understand what she meant by this, as I am only twenty eight, and she is not even fifty yet. I ended up giving her the same tepid responce I always use, 'i'm looking for the right one, mother.' but this time, she didn't buy it. I am getting the hinting suspicion she knows about my beliefs. What she said next startled me from my self-absorbed thoughts, "Well, i'm not going to wait around forever."
This made me muddle for many hours during my day on what she meant when the doorbell rang. There was a woman there, holding a small parcel. She did not look to be a delivery woman, as she was wearing a lab coat. When I opened the door, she handed the little parcel to me.
"This child is yours, take care of it well." and before I could respond, she turned and left. Child, I thought, what?
Back inside my house I pinched the twine thread and pulled. A feather shot out of the parcel and a small rubber ball fell to the floor. Instinctively I went to catch the feather, but updrafts carried it about the room for several minutes, me in tow. I finally caught it and held it in my hand. Nothing more than a red feather with yellow stripes. It was pretty, but I was dissappointed. The woman said child, and all I got was a feather, and a little ball. But why, why did that bother me so much? I didn't want children, I should be relieved.
I decided to hold onto them to ask my mother about it later. As I walked into my bedroom, I opened up my jewlery box, which had a very soft, velvety interior. I placed the feather and the ball on it, and left to resume with my life. Something kept drawing me back to it, somehow, and time and time again I found myself staring at it. Oh well.
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 6:53 pm
Entry two, May 1st, 2005
Dear Journal,
Today was mundane, but full, as usual. I hardly had any time to myself, let alone time to call my mother and demand and answer to this feather I now have in my posession.
Early in the morning I had to meet with this snobbish, prudent old woman who was commissioning orders from me. She was stinking rich, and her entire family was dropping off like flies, so I had to humour her. In total, if I finish her entire order on time, and without any further deaths in her family, I can rake in $250,000!
The catch? Most of my work will take at least all year to finish. Thankfully, during my downtime I make some generic pieces, so about four sculptures only require engravings. Still, that is some serious dough, and if she pays half upfront... Wow. I don't think even both of my parents and my siblings combined make that much. I hate to think what other hoardes of wealth Mrs. Shiva is hiding.
The rest of my day was spent shopping, grocery shopping, and attempting to find twelve six-by-four foot blocks of pure white and black marble. I've got two so far, and my supplier is getting more in next week.
Slightly more random news, I have snack food again!
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 6:54 pm
Entry three, May 3rd, 2005
Dear journal,
Today was spent at my draft table, with twenty-three blue pencils, a sharpener, two rulers, a T mark, and four gummy erasers. From approximately nine to two AM, I was marking measurements, scaling, and drafting out the image of a four winged angel holding a book from the Shiva estate. This was to be the tombstone of her soon-to-be dearly departed husband, who was a multi-millionaire heir to a conglomerate with six to eight months to live.
His total assets? 6.2 billion dollars, but only if he sold everything he owned. As far as I know, Mr. Shiva owned the world, and his wife was about to inherit it all.
Those thoughts escaped me as soon as I buried my head in my work, insanely jealous at the fact that none of the Shiva family had to work a lick to make more money in a week than my entire family ever seemingly could. So I focused on making my solid block of marble potentially look like Apollo.
Early on, I lost my muse. 'This can't happen.' I thought to myself, 'If I lose this job, i'm done in.' I've had artist's block before that has lasted for months. But it dawned on me, the feather! Soon enough I had it dangling by a little dark green ribbon on the side of the block, and the thing jumped and danced with every breeze that came in through my studio window. It was mesmerizing, the way this little thing floated about on the silken ribbon. I got back to work.
Suprizingly, the only thing I could think of for a long time was the image of a small bird boy, with small wings and slender body. This was nothing like the Adonis I was supposed to be working on, but I quickly sketched out a draft for the little 'un, and used the inspiration the feather brought me for the work that would feed me for the rest of the year.
When it had come to the time where I could hardly keep my eyes open, I closed and locked my window, replaced the feather back to its perch in my jewlery box next to the rubber ball, and went to sleep.
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 6:56 pm
Entry four, May 10th, 2005
Dear Journal,
I have not written in several days due to the fact I have been so engrossed in my work, and a book I am reading called The Collector Between them, I have barely enough time to eat and sleep, let alone blather on to myself. Anyway- mother says journal keeping is like therapy for sane people (because any other type of therapy is for crazies, mother says), so keep writing. I cannot help but mention that my mother is very priggish- sometimes I want to tell her to keep herself out of my business. Whether or not I want to write is up to my own discretion.
The little feather I recieved mysteriously is a true, true gift. I now keep it on a string tied about my neck, right next to the tuft of jerboa fur. It has acted like a muse to me, and I am working at twice the speed I was ever capable of before. I have slowed down some, for fear that my rush might cause a fatal mistake, but so far all has gone smoothly.
It's very odd, with this feather with me, a strange power courses through me, filling me with a fiery energy until I feel as though I could run on air for days and days. Why this is I have yet to discover, but at this time last week I couldn't have cared less about this feather, now I loathe to remove it at any time. I suppose such a feeling is unhealthy, but I am attatched to it now, but just emotionally.
When I was out taking a break, a gust of wind caught the feather and snatched it up with such force it nearly tore my head off-- that was a mistake I know to never make again. Somehow the thing is very sensitive to breezes and updrafts, but never have I beheld a single feather to hold such force. I caught it before it could break the cord holding it to me and I thought for the first time, I might actually loose it. I went cold so I hurried back inside to resume with my work. I recalled the trouble I had catching it inside when I first got it, and that was in my house with no breeze, outside it might as well cross the world before I could reach it.
I'm going to bed now, I am suddenly feeling very tired.
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 7:01 pm
Entry five, May 15, 2005
Dear Journal,
I cannot even begin on what a blessing this feather has been to me. I have already nearly finished my four winged angel, and in under a month. Mrs. Shiva has visited my studio, and was nearly shocked to death when she saw the statue, standing proudly in its black marble glory. She was so impressed, she said if I had it finished before her husband's passing, she would give me a raise.
Mother visited today, and was chock full of her hen like aphorisms as always. She clucked over me for a good two hours, it seemed, while I took a break from my work. Mostly she spoke of the weight I've lost since she last has seen me. Her worry is not without reason, I suppose. I have lost a good deal of sitting fat (that's what I call the weight I gain when i'm out of work and don't do anything but lark about and watch TV) But my arms are strong, and i'm very wiry. She brought over ice cream though, which was delicious. So much so, in fact, I think i'm going to buy some later today.
She also mentioned the fact that I'm getting awfully pale, as I don't go out nearly as often. Whatever, I would rather be pale, and skin cancer free. Azyre called shortly after she left. I have the feeling she told him to try and drag me out of the house. I told him he could come over and visit, but I wasn't going to leave until I finished my first commission, and there was no way I was going to let him touch my ice cream. Azyre said fine, he would just bring his own. I love that man.
He will be coming over tomorrow. I'm not going to bother making any effort to tidy up, as he and I are old friends, and he doesn't care either way what my house looks like. That, and it takes too much time to clean, and I have no interest in it whatsoever. The only thing I ever take the time to actually wash are my sculptures, which are in themselves more valuable to me than my own damn house. There are endless things to do to it: Gutters, shutters, windows, paneling, painting, polishing, varnishing, and the countless amounts of yardwork, which varies on the seasons. It is fortunate Azyre is my friend, because without him, I would never get anything done.
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 7:03 pm
Entry six, May 18, 2005
Dear Journal,
Azyre has been spending the past few days at my house, and I am thankful for his company. While I've been working, he's spent some time, quite a bit of time actually, cleaning up my house. I don't know why, but it seems more important to me now. Azyre's kind of a neat-freak, his own place doesn't even have enough dust in the air to settle on anything to require dusting. I sat in my own chair and raised such a cloud I had to leave the room! I don't hardly spend any time in the rest of my house, so although it was messy, it wasn't lived in messy.
After he got tired of watching me work, and without me taking any breaks, he dragged me out to go biking with him. This sounds wierd, but I havent been 'out' in such a long time I had forgotten how much I like it. We went to the top of this hill, and it was slightly overcast, which was nice. Up on the top of this point, we sat in silence as the wind whipped past us. It isn't the highest point around, but it is still a great vantage point.
I had the feather in my coat pocket while we rode, and I took it out. Azyre was very curious about it, and I spent a good half hour talking about it, probably boring him out of his mind. Well, he seemed interested enough. The wind started to pick up, and I let him hold it, so he could feel the strenth it had when it touched a breeze. I put it away, and we sat a while more.
I was going to suggest returning home, but a glance at him and I realized he was crying. Well, I asked him what was the matter, but he just shook his head and leaned over onto me. I embraced him, rubbing my icy hands on his shoulders as he shivered. He composed himself after about ten minutes, and we went home.
"Look, I'm sorry..." He began when we arrived, but I cut him off and told him that he shouldn't apologize to me, there was no reason. He said he had to go, and gave me a brief hug, saying how he would see me around and to take care of myself. I told him if he ever wanted to, he could tell me all about it over some hot cocoa. That seemed to cheer him up, and he left.
What is happening to everyone?
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 7:12 pm
Entry seven, May 22nd, 2005
Dear Journal,
Four winged angel finally complete, and I can sleep. Mrs. Shiva will not pick it up, however, due to the fact that her husband watching his own tombstone would most likely put him in a foul mood, so I must keep it until his passing, however, she has paid for it.
I lie awake now, in my bed, writing by the moonlight. It is almost full, but not quite, but the light still illuminates everything. Moonbathing is very peaceful as the rays are not harsh, they do not burn, and as far as I can tell, do not cause skin cancer.
Reggie came over for lunch today. She's a real sweet gal and a good friend of mine. My mom for the longest time thought we were dating, as we used to spend so much time together, but it is not to be. I think dating Reggie would be a very...interesting experience. She's a little off the wall, rather clingy, and can be very irritable and vengeful, but she's also grounded, has good opinions, very good taste, and is a phenominal singer. She's also the only woman I can sit around and just talk to, without worrying that i'm being bothersome, or boring.
However, Reggie is often very busy, what with her choirs, and school, and whatever other thing she is involved with. Still, it's nice to set aside a day for walking along in the creek, or hanging around at the park, or eating lunch. Sweet Reggie doesn't judge, doesn't nag, and is very frank with her opinions, and I love her for that. She also has very soft hands, which sadly are more often than not, frigidly cold.
When we were younger, she and I explored a drainage pipe, to see where it led to. She is much taller than me, and had to duck down to avoid banging her head along the top of the pipe. What a riot that was! The first time we lingered too long and had to turn back, but the second time we hurried, the two of us, two flashlights, laughing along with our echoes at least three feet underground. Many spiders and other such critters, one albino fish, and lots of very funny graffitti.
In the middle of the pipe, the graffitti came to a stop, and we wondered just how long we would be underground, but eventually emerged somewhere in Reggie's neighborhood. It was a good experience. I love the pipes down there, the pitch darkness, the suffocatingly stale dank air, and the echoes. If I weren't so afraid of it caving in on my head, I would go down more often.
She recently had a falling out with a crush, and an admirer of hers is steeling himself to confess. Things shall become very interesting around here soon. I touched the feather about my neck, and held it up in the moonlight.
Just what is in store for us?
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 7:18 pm
Entry eight, May 23rd, 2005
Dear Journal,
Shock of all shocks! Suprize of my life! There are so many things to write about, I don't know if I can recount them all.
I was feeling overly exausted, so I had fallen asleep early on my bed, a little before sunset. I woke up several hours later, because I felt a weight pressing against me. It was dark, but the light of the moon was full on against me, shining in through my window. Laying on my chest, passed out, was a little blonde boy! Imagine my shock, my feather, the little muse on a string was really posessing the spirit of this lively little boy!
I was filled with a mix of suprise, delight, and fatherly joy, even though I never had any intention of having children. All of that changed when I laid eyes on my son, my son. I knew right away that this was my feather, from the red shirt and blonde hair, the colors of the feather. And the fact that as he lay upon me, I could feel his familiar energy flowing through me. This is why my muse was a feathered boy, this was why! My mother was very clever, she knew that I could never say no to this angel.
I had no idea how long we had been sleeping this way, or how long since he had changed forms. I didn't want to disturb him, either, but he must have sensed my awakening, as his own eyelids fluttered open. He looked up at me, with his emotive honey brown eyes and I melted, I was so happy.
"Hello..." I said, cracking a grin to him, which he instantly reciprocated
"Hello...Father." He replied in his sugary sweet voice.
"What is your name?" I inquired.
"Hikaro."
Looking at him, I didn't doubt it. He soon sat up, and I saw that he had the string around his neck that I used to hold his feather. He was also eyeing my Jerboa fur. I peered at him, he had a bolt of yellow streaking down his face from his eye, like a golden tearstreak. Curious, very curious. Also, he has a pair of tiny yellow wings, and a eensy weensy yellow tail.
My boy, my son, my darling Hikaro. Hikaro Chegrin.
He's now sitting at the kitchen table, snacking on fruitloops. I cannot help but watch him closely, he is precious to me. Gosh, now i'm gushing. It strikes me, how am I supposed to take care of this boy? He isn't human, will he go to school? Does he need school? I haven't known him more than an hour, and he seems very bright to me already.
My mother has some explaining to do. Goodness, I don't know what i'm going to do. I have the feeling she's known this whole time. I'm not going to give him up, oh no, no one is taking him from me, but, I hope he can keep himself occupied while I work, at least.
I told him that after he finished eating, it was back to bed. So far, he hasn't protested. There is much to do tomorrow.
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Posted: Fri May 27, 2005 3:24 pm
Entry nine, May 27th, 2005
Dead Journal,
Sometimes I worry about my boy, Hikaro. He suffers terribly from nightmares, and so every night, at around 2:00 A.M. or so, I am awakened by him clambering into my bed. Or if I'm awake, crawling into my lap. I hold him close to me until he falls asleep, then I put him back to bed. He tells me every night it's the same dream, he and I are walking along a cliffside, facing the sea. He's usually older in his dream, around twenty or so.
Suddenly, a large gust of wind sweeps by and picks him off of his feet, dragging him away from me far into the horison. He is suddenly transformed back into a little boy, eventually into a feather as he is buffetted among the clouds until he is scorched by the sun. It terrifies him so, but I am glad I can give him some measure of comfort.
He's a real up and down kid. One moment, he'll be bouncing off of the walls, and cannot sit still to save his life, the other he's unconcious, and nothing save for a vigarous shake or a douse of icy water (or the scent of baking brownies) will rouse him. Often, he wears me out too, and we both end up falling asleep on the couch.
I cannot get any work done while he is thus. He is so demanding of attention that I fear that I leave him alone, he'll get into something and will perish, and that will be it. I'll go back to my solitary life again, devoid of light, and life. I have employed Azyre to the task to which he has been most pleased. Azyre takes him to the park, and lets him run around and burn off energy until he returns him to me, and by that time, usually I am done working and can spend some time with him. I was hardly suprised when Hika started calling Azyre 'uncle'.
I am a little concerned of the friends he has been making at the park. I took a break and did some research about the species to which my son belongs. There was a lab, fortunately, with the same scientist I encountered before. She explained to me all about the Hououza, and the feathers. The other Hououza I've met have only been boys, and both have brandished weapons. Hikaro has been delighted, i'm a little anxious. He's already gotten a bit scuffed up- usually by his own blunder.
Also, I've noticed Hika to be very light on his feet with those wings. It seems that whenever it is windy out, his jumps become much higher, and he travels much faster. I have never witnissed him in flight, however, but I don't really doubt that if he weren't so afraid of it, he would.
Little Hika is so bright, I don't quite know how I lived without him around to keep me company.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2005 8:03 pm
Entry ten, May 30th, 2005
Dear Journal,
Hikaro has expressed a sudden desire to watch me at work. I cannot tell what brought about the change, but I welcome it. He for the first time sat still and watched as I worked. He didn't ask many questions, but rather absorbed what I said.
He noticed the smaller block of marble I had set aside in the corner of the room. It was about half of the height of the other blocks, and of a more yellow colored stone. He asked me what it was for, and I looked at him for a moment, then looked at the block, and said,
"You."
He sat still for a long while, looking at it with a far away appearance to his eyes, as though he were thinking about what living shape the cold stone would take. Stone was so earth bound, so heavy and solid, where Hikaro was a feather light being, tied to the sun and the sky, to have the stone take on that demeanor would be a challenge I couldn't pass up.
I felt more at peace then, with my son sitting by the window, in my studio working away then I do believe I ever have before. At least, not in conscious memory.
I love my son so very much. He still acts as my muse. Looking into his sun spun hair and his honey eyes, my head is filled with hundreds of ideas that I cannot wait but put them down and apply them. I think he knows this, as whenever I glance up at him, he's looking back at me, and his face breaks into a dazzling candy sweet smile.
He got bored after a few hours, and I told him to go out and play outside, as nothing was to be gained larking about with me in the studio. He was hesitant, but obeyed, bouncing outside. His presence lingered in the room, and every so often, I looked outside, to see him running and tumbling in the grass. Green is a nice color for him.
I had gone to a psychic who specialized in past lives once before, while I was in college. She was a very nice woman, whom I felt was very wise, and full of energy that brimmed out like an overfull cup. Looking back, I don't know why I never returned to speak to her. She told me in my past life, I was blonde.
From what I remember, my most influential past life occured many centuries ago. I was the young son of a nobleman, and I couldn't have been much older than sixteen or seventeen years old. I was blonde, and handsome, and admired by much of the land my father controlled. I also had a mentor who I spent much of the day with most of the time, and he and I were nearly inseparable we were so close in spirit. I had been brought up to be a kind and compassionate ruler, who lived by love and forgiveness rather than vengeance and punishment.
However a romance had developed between us two, one that was all love and understanding between us, but one that my father would never understand. He ordered my mentor banished from his land under pain of death. I was devastated, I tried explaining over and over again, but he would hear none of it. I told him that his command was not one that I wanted to inherit, and I would rather abandon all I lived for then carry on his tyrannical legacy of narrow-mindedness and hate. He believed my mentor had corrupted my mind as well, and instead ordered his execution.
Two days before he was doomed to die a humiliating death, I snuck into the prison where he was held. I locked myself into his cell, and took his broken form into my arms, and thus embraced together with him, we both took our own lives; proving that a future without love was no future at all.
Well, going back to the original point I was going to make, my kingdom's colors were black, green and gold. I always wore a black and green uniform, and had blonde hair. Looking to my son, our appearances were uncanny. I reminded myself that I must always be accepting of my boy, for whoever he turned out to be, and to never limit his potential.
The sun was going down, I halted my work and went outside to call in Hikaro. He was puzzled when as he ran in I gave him the hug of a lifetime, and I just told him it was because I loved him. He smiled again, and ran inside to play.
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Posted: Sat Jun 04, 2005 1:34 pm
Entry eleven June 4th, 2005
Dear Journal,
I am now in posession of not one, but two children. And both by the most bizarre of circumstances; one by midnight metamorphosis, the other a strange twist on a present. It was a whole series of bizarre circumstances leading up to the aquisition of the second boy.
It was after some black tie affair I had attended. There was one man in particular who caught my attention, he seemed to be most out of place among the guests. He was rowdy, loud, and most likely polished off two or three bottles of fine wine all by himself. Clearly plastered, he spend the majority of time chatting up random people, myself included.
The event had been winding to a steadily more depressing end, and I could tell this man was seriously feeling the effects of the alchohol and the heavy mood as he was slumped over in his chair, shirt half unbuttoned, tie lost somewhere on the floor. He seemed to have no one with him, and the butler was getting agitated with his presence. There were no more than five of us left.
I approached him, and gently touched his shoulder. He groaned once, and let out a wet hiccup.
"Hey," I said, leaning down to him, "Do you have a ride home?"
Another hiccup was my answer. His head swayed to the side and I could see his eyes were half open. I couldn't leave him in the state he was in,
"C'mon," I said, gathering his things, "I'll drive you home."
Leaning down, I helped him stand, and we swayed to the door. It was awkward, maneuvering a drunken man into my car, but he eventually collapsed into the back seat. In a slurred voice, he told me he lived at such and such manor. I knew basically where it was, real high class places.
The drive was quiet, only the hum of the car's engine and his light snore in the back seat. I thought on the evening with amusement, watching him is what made it bearable. I loosened my tie some, and focused on finding this man's home.
As we neared the block, I felt his hand on my shoulder.
"That one." He said, pointing unsteadily. I pulled up to the front gate, and let him out. I helped him up the front walk, and even opened the front door for him. Within the dark interior I spotted many pairs of glowing eyes. I thought, cats?
"Thank you." The man said, lurching inside. "You know, you're a sensible fellow...You know what...?" I never got an answer, he closed the door.
Two days later, there was a ring at my door. Hikaro of course bound to get it, as he always did. I was working on a poster for a callender, and so ignored it, soon however, Hikaro started shrieking.
"DAD! DAAAAAAAD DAD!" His voice carried across the house. I bolted up and dashed to the door, I thought, there's a man with a gun, it's the cops, the I.R.S.-- but no. It was just a boy.
A little redheaded boy with a blonde lock of hair falling over his eyes. He peered up at me, and handed me a card wordlessly, it read:
Dear Dian-
Thanks for the ride home. I didn't know at first how I GOT home, but my kids told me it was you. So as a thanks, you can have one of them, good luck!
I was puzzled, he knew my name, and my address, and he gave me a child!? The boy must have seen my puzzled look and quickly spoke up,
"Please don't send me back. I would rather stay here."
His voice was quiet, soft, serene. It contrasted with his look of catlike fierceness, and my son Hikaro's loud one. Said boy was eagerly tugging at my sweater,
"Can he please stay, please? It's so dull here by myself! Let him stay!"
That undid me, I succumbed and agreed, but said that he had to share Hika's room. Both boys smiled at this. Hikaro grasped the boy's hand and dragged him inside.
What have I gotten myself into?
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