It was Ronald McDonald’s eyes that haunted me.

I had been walking toward the entrance of one of the four McDonald’s franchises in my town when I glanced at the cartoon clown logo in the window and let out a scream. Just a little scream, but I still frightened one little girl on the sidewalk so badly that she screamed, too. One middle-aged man in a baseball cap who had been strolling toward the entrance behind me very discreetly turned on his heels and walked the other way. I felt like a jackass. 

It was her eyes that first attracted me to her. I didn’t believe in love, but the
first time I gazed into her beautiful green eyes I knew she was the one.

I loved seeing myself reflected in those eyes, looking deep into her soul and
knowing I was a part of it. It’s kinda stupid, but I even wrote poetry about them. I
don’t remember much, but I told her “There’s so much life within your eyes, and so
much love”.

Oh God, I loved the way the light danced within them. I just couldn’t imagine not
being able to stare dreamily into them.

Now if I could just find a box that was half as beautiful as her eyes, I could stop
carrying them round in my pocket.

I’m currently in the middle of my years ending project making animated story as storytelling element to some company. Here’s few snapshots, which in some way covers what is it all about:

I was just having relaxing moment while drawing this rainbow of dark imagination thing and remembered the old good readable story about what?:

There it goes again. Something definitely moved this time. It was very brief, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw something. But wait. All the doors are locked, no pets, and your parents won’t get home until 10. So there’s no way something moved. It’s just your imagination getting the best of you. Sitting alone in your room, the only light emitting from the monitor of your computer, you stare into the darkness for several minutes. Just to be sure. Now you feel silly. What were you thinking? Of course there’s nothing there. What, are you 6? Go back to what you were doing.

15 minutes later, as you prepare to go to bed, you’re in the bathroom. The shower curtains shift. Wait… no. Stop spooking yourself. It’s just an overactive imagination, filling your head with what isn’t really there. You gaze into the mirror at yourself. You say it to yourself, slowly and clearly, “Imagination.” With a sigh, you turn the lights off and head towards your room.

Laying in bed, you stare at your ceiling, dark and foreboding, only the motion of a small fan disturbing the calmness of the night. A shadow from the light in the hall shifts. No. No, no, no. Stop it. It’s your imagination. Just that. Go to sleep, you fool.

But then, just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, at the phase no one remembers when they wake, you sense something in the darkness. It’s your imagination, leering down at you. With a jagged, macabre smile.

Do you remember that post about dancing trash containers outside my window?
When the storm goes mad and those cubes start to drive around making sacred dancing moves (picture)?

This one is as a tribute as a legacy to one of them. Full tragedy, detective and horror story came to our town suddenly.
One morning as I was cycling to college and just few tens of meters away from home I found this:

A baby girl is mysteriously dropped off at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945. “Jane” grows up lonely and dejected, not knowing who her parents are, until one day in 1963 she is strangely attracted to a drifter. She falls in love with him, but just when things are looking up for Jane a series of disasters strikes: First, she becomes pregnant by the drifter, who then disappears. Second, during the complicated delivery doctors discover that Jane has both sets of sex organs, and to save her life, they most surgically convert “her” to a “him.” Finally, a mysterious stranger kidnaps her baby from the delivery room.

Damn, I really like such kind of stories and it keeps me more into that state then I just want to draw something, and does’nt matter if it’s only illustration for very short story:

“Mom…” said the little girl , rubbing her eyes, standing in the door opening to her mother’s room.
“Mom, the Easter Bunny is eating my candy…” she said.
“Nonsense, baby,” the woman replied, “the Easter Bunny gives out candy, it doesn’t eat it…”
The woman lightly shook her covers and continued to speak, halfway into her pillow, halfway to her daughter; “Go back to sleep, baby…”
“But, mom…” the girl said, “The Easter Bunny is eating candy!” now in a more serious tone, almost as if she was going to cry.
Her mother sat up and opened her arms, “Baby, I just told you; the Easter Bunny doesn’t eat candy, he hands it out to little children. Besides, it’s not even Easter yet – go back to sleep,” she said in her kindest voice.
“Okay, mom…” the child sighed as she turned to walk out the room.
The woman smiled and though ‘Crazy kid with her lively imagination…’ and went back to sleep on a whim.
Out in the hallway, the little girl stood for a while staring at the Easter Bunny eating her candy. She then sighed “Mommy said I should go back to bed…”
The Easter Bunny replied “Good idea, child. Turn around and don’t look back.”
He flicked a shiny metal pendant at the child. She picked it up. She cried as she saw what it was; it was a dog tag, and it read ‘Candy’.

As I have plenty of time this week before one more semester will start I’m working on A’s new photo’s portfolio based on other blog’s bones adjusted specially for image blogging.