Tag: 30 characters
Day# 28 Sonata (with writer James S. Allen)
#28 Sonata, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen
Note: As promised, here is another, and I must say–very important– character from the novel Alien Artifacts, by James S. Allen. Since at this time I don’t have the time to colour it in a way that would do it justice, I’ve presented it in black and white for your pleasure. The coloured version will come along later. Once again, James has given me a most generous excerpt form Alien Artifacts, featuring the debut of Sonata, little alien woodland creature. And smart? Ooh! Sure is!
But since I’ve been privileged to read the whole novel, I must be careful. I don’t want to hand out any spoilers. There is so much depth and fun in this novel, I wouldn’t want you to miss any of it.
So here is the excerpt, and my thanks to James for allowing me the privilege of drawing his characters.
~~~~~
In the gray, early hour before dawn, Stephen was jolted awake, this time by a cry from much closer at hand. He’d heard Rowan scream, he was sure of it! But like the cry in middle of the night, hers too was suddenly cut off. A surge of adrenaline shot through him as fear clenched at his gut. He leapt to his feet, staggering slightly with dizziness at the suddenness of his rising. Where was Rowan?
As a matter of fact, she was standing in the basket just in front of him, facing its forward end.
“Rho!” he exclaimed. “Are you all right? I heard you cry out.”
She held a finger to her lips and then whispered, “I’m fine. Sorry to alarm you. I’m afraid I’ve frightened it as well.”
“It?” he replied in a whisper, looking around. He noted that Myrll was sitting quietly in the rear of the gondola, head tilted in puzzlement. “What ‘it’ have you frightened? And why are we speaking in whispers?”
“So we don’t frighten it anymore.” she said. “It was just so startling to find it there when I awoke that I let out a scream before I could stop myself. Now I feel badly.”
Stephen looked at Rowan wonderingly. “Uh, find what where? Rho, by Goatha’s Lolling Tongue, what are you talking about?”
“Shhh!” she admonished, and inclined her head towards the front of the gondola. “That.”
A small furry head with large, liquid golden eyes, popped up from the edge of the basket. “Purdeeep…purdeeep?” it chittered. It looked over the occupants of the basket, head darting from side to side. When no one moved it apparently reached a decision, and leapt nimbly from the side of the basket to one of the ropes that held the gondola suspended. “Purdeeep?” It called again questioningly.
It was roughly the size of a large earthly squirrel, and similar in shape, with a luxuriantly furred body and a large bushy tail. Instead of four limbs, however, it had six. The hind legs were powerful and well-muscled, made for jumping and climbing. The four front limbs were like two sets of arms, each ending in a tiny articulated hand with three fingers and a thumb for grasping. Its fur was a glossy black, with splotches of gold and orange. On its face was a tiny white bandit’s mask, and just above each of it hands, there was a band of white fur that encircled its arms.
“It’s absolutely gorgeous.” Rowan breathed raptly, “And so cute! I wonder what it might like to eat?”
Stephen had to agree. It was both. Still, it was also a wild creature on an alien world. Caution would doubtless be the wisest course of action.
“Rho,” he whispered diffidently, “do you really think it’s wise to get involved with an unknown wild creature, stranded here as we are, amongst aliens of uncertain intent?”
Rowan considered briefly, and shook her head from side to side slightly. “No. Almost certainly not.”
The creature, who had been looking from one human to the other as they spoke, shook its head from side to side.
“No… neither do I.” Stephen whispered back.
“So,” Rowan repeated. “I wonder what it might like to eat?”
“I suggest some of the nuts we brought from the island.” Stephen offered hopefully. “It looks a bit like a squirrel, and they certainly like nuts.”
~~~~~
Afternote: I’m toying with the idea of Having Rowan and Stephen as my last two characters, but they may be too complex for me to create in a way that will satisfy the writer. I’m going to give it a try anyway and see what happens. If they don’t turn out, I’ll do something else. I’d really like to have an awesome finale piece (but I’m afraid I won’t be able to top this one. lol)
Enjoy!
Day# 27 A Pair of Gorths (with writer James S. Allen)
#27 A Pair of Gorths, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen
(#25)Rok’sla has an excerpt that introduces the Gorths in James S. Allen’s novel Alien Artifacts. Here is another small excerpt from Alien Artifacts featuring the Gorths:
~~~~~
“Behind them, the tortured entry door finally yielded, a large mass of it slumping away to one side. Two Gorth pirates leapt through the opening, sailed over the still molten metal, and landed in a crouch, prepared to deal instant death with the blasters they waved about with disturbing eagerness.  Enragingly, however, the quarry they had pursued so relentlessly to this place refused to reveal themselves and be properly blasted. In unconscious tribute to the forces of natural selection that had shaped them from ferociously thoughtless killers to thoughtfully ferocious killers, they refrained from blasting one another. It was a near thing.”
~~~~~
Afternote: This was supposed to be #26, but I had a power failure and lost my work so I had to start over again. Also the reason the Gorths are uncoloured as yet. No biggie, though. I hope to have a third character from Alien Artifacts ready for tomorrow.
Day# 26, The Swarm From Space
They Came From Outer Space
Day #26 –The Swarm
No one knows their origin, most don’t even know they exist. The first indication of that comes when one looks up at the sky, alerted by some kind of strange vibration and a sound of wind.
At first you think they are a cloud of little pink angels, like out of one of your kid’s video games, and you drop to your knees in awe. Then as they come closer, you see the odd, almost shapeless shape of them, each apparently the size of an old water barrel, and you slowly get off your knees, unable yet to grasp the totality of the situation. The strange vibration presses against your ears, and the old, old instinct for survival rises in you. The dog is barking, tail between its legs, backing away from the oncoming swarm. You command the dog to follow, and he scampers to your side still barking. He’s shaking all over.
At long last your legs find themselves running, running. You try to direct that motion, calm the primitive panic. But if you don’t get behind closed doors very soon…
There! No, not the barn! The House! Quickly!
Over your shoulder you see the first wave land, though they never really touch the ground. There must be millions of them! You twist the door handle and it sticks. A scream in your throat, you try again, hitting your hip against the stubborn thing. It bursts open and you flail through, the dog right behind you, and slam it behind you, saying a prayer of thanks, while still wondering why you you are panicking. But still the rational part of you takes a few deep breaths and hurries around the house making sure all windows are closed and locked. You even check the fireplace flue.
You think of your wife and the kids who must be on their way home by now. You should call her, but just then you see through the picture window a scene that chills you to your heart: The verdant field and the trees in full leaf, the herds of goats and sheep have been replaced by a moving blanket of fluttering pink winged blobs. And even as you watch, every living thing is stripped from the land and grey devastation left in its wake. A shudder goes through you.
The dog has stopped barking. But now it is pressing its shaking body against your leg, uttering quiet whines. A ringing starts in your ears. You realise it’s your phone. You answer it, numbly. It’s Annya, hysterical, crying.. You cut through her sobs and yell. “Are you in the car? Annya! Answer me! Are the kids with you?”
Her answer is muffled, but affirmative. “Whatever you do –Don’t leave the car! Lock it! Have you locked it?”
Another affirmitive. “Try and drive home once they’ve passed.” Having to keep her sane and help her get home is helping to steel your own nerves.
In less than a few minutes the world has changed. Every living thing on the surface of the earth has been stripped bare. What will happen now. Will they just leave? Or will they try to pry the rest of us out of our hiding spots? That many of them could break apart a house like this in minutes. Nothing, nowhere, is safe..
And what will happen next, with no harvest, no meat animals except those that were kept inside.
You pull the curtains closed, sickened by the sight of that moving pink carpet of devastation. And you wait. And wait.
Roy the Abstract Zombie
Roy likes brains. Roy is also made from stained glass, so he has to be doubly careful during the zombie apocalypse because he could shatter at any time.
Zip
Zip is one third of the Time Freaks; criminals who escaped from a maximum security prison using a makeshift time machine constructed from an old bathtub. After discovering his new ability to travel through time on a series of wacky capers, Zip’s took part in a “renaming ritual” to take on a new “space name”.
#19 T’appai, Clearance Department Deputy
19 牛鬼女
T’appai • Clearance Department Deputy
T’appai wears the stripes and the bone-insect manifestations of spirit that is the signature of Central Command. With her six legs, she is actually nearly fifteen feet wide; her human anatomical structure, that of a little girl, is no more than four feet three if she stood bipedal.
She is Deputy to the Clearance Department Head, and is tasked with scheduling consultations and seminars to first-time invitees to the Parade, to Shedders (those who have recently died) who have not quite made heads and tails of their situation as yet, and to fellow organizers who “need a break.” She only wears her fuda when there is a need for her to cross World Layers. T’appai loves human languages, and prefers to speak a classical form of Babylonian when she addresses people. She likes having tea with Rizwän ».
#18 Busae, Repose Before Sunrise
18 ç„¡å†
Busae • Repose Before Sunrise
While a part of his foothills has become decidedly habitable by humans, Busae’s true form is of jagged rocks and hard earth, made fertilized by the bodies buried beneath him. One of the more inaccessible mountains of his range, Busae’s bone-like summits looked like they cut the rising sun in half, which was why his was the site of many morning offerings of tribal societies. This accumulation of many selfless energies has allowed Busae to become a venerated mountain, and as is his nature, he has offered his trails as Pathways to the Grand Parade, much like Makktanh » does.
Despite his fearsome appearance, Busae believes in self-will. He is known to have spared ‘sacrifices’ who did not understand what they had gotten themselves into, though he greets those who do with a campfire and a drink of dew before morning. He takes his title from the fact that those who travel to his summit manage to sleep a few hours before morning light breaks.
#17 Chitose, Of A Thousand Years
17 鶴
Chitose • Of A Thousand Years
People all over the world invoke Chitose when they embark on a thousand-crane-folding project, but not everyone is who Chitose chooses. Chitose is finicky and lazy, the immense amount of power in the thousand-feathered wings often inducing lethargy and, frankly, Chitose has little patience for people who do not believe in what they are doing.
One is actually folding away one’s life, one crane at a time, in a way shedding; for every wish, a crane, and for every crane, a piece of mortality is lifted away. It is not successfully lifted if one does not believe that one has lost something in exchange for what one wishes, and to Chitose, this is like being served stale wine or a half-baked rice cake. When a successful devotee has folded the last crane, thereby activating the completed wish, Chitose is there to meet them along with a Fire or a Snow to point them to the Parade.
The difference is that, as a reward for their strong belief, Chitose gives them a feather from the Thousand-Feathered plumage, to “make your travels henceforth lighter.” Nobody knows if Chitose is a male or a female, as cranes can be hermaphrodites and can’t be bothered with limited human imagination.
Day#25 Rok’sla (with Author, James S. Allen)
“I have been specially trained.”
Note: James S. Allen has written a delightful space adventure novel, “Alien Artifacts”, about a pair of Xenoarchaeologists from the Institute of Ancient Studies, Rowan and Stephen, embarking on their first dig on an unknown planet dubbed “Dekkar V”. They are both very excited about this, but sooner than you would expect things go wrong and they are plunged into a fascinating world of beauty, intrigue and living alien artifacts. James has kindly given me the excerpt from Alien Artifacts below as an introduction to his character, Rok’sla, of the Calurrian race:
~~~~~
They moved off to follow the well worn path that was indicated by the marker beacons. It was pleasant to stretch their legs beneath the open sky, even if it was purplish black, after several weeks shipboard. In the light gravity, they made short work of the journey. As they approached the camp, they were greeted by a brief burst of static in their suit comms, and then an unfamiliar guttural voice.
“Welcome colleagues. Please proceed to the airlock on the largest dome. I’ll be waiting there to greet you.”
They cycled through the designated airlock and emerged into a large, brightly lit room that was obviously a laboratory. The room was strewn with sealed boxes, equipment, instruments and ancient alien artifacts in many shapes and sizes. There were also three persons in the room. The smallest of these, an orange-skinned gnomish looking individual, moved forward to greet them. He waited while Stephen and Rowan removed their helmets, and then addressed them in the same guttural voice that had come across the suit comm units.
“Greetings. I am Dr. Rok’sla. I lead the UU expedition. These are my associates, Assistant Researchers Kloskan and Durnel.” He indicated the two figures that towered behind him to the left and right.
Stephen looked at them and did a double take. The seven foot tall reptilian forms were familiar to him, and he was quite taken aback to see them standing here in lab coats.
“Yes,” continued Dr. Rok’sla drily, “they are indeed Gorth. There is a great deal of…misinformation that circulates about the Gorth race. Contrary to popular opinion, they are not all pirates. Many of them choose to pursue careers in the arts and sciences. As have these two, my able colleagues here on Dekkar V.”
The two Gorth smiled hugely at Stephen and Rowan, revealing a startling array of jagged razor sharp teeth.
“Unfortunately, however, one piece of common knowledge about the Gorth is true. They are quite unable to master Galcom, and hence will be unable to converse with you directly. If there is anything you wish to ask of them or convey to them, I fear I will have to translate for you.”
This piqued Rowan’s curiosity. “That’s quite fascinating Dr. Rok’sla. I understood the Gorth to communicate by extremely low frequency sound waves, produced and received by specially evolved organs in their tails. Those frequencies are far below the threshold that can be created by the vocal apparatus of most species. Are you saying the calurrian race have some sort of similar capability?”
An unreadable expression appeared briefly on the bulbous features of the rotund little being and he answered tersely.
“I have been specially trained.” His face smoothed again into its former blandness. “And now, perhaps, you would extend the courtesy of introducing yourselves?”
~~~~~~~
Afternote: The next Character will also be from the novel Alien Artifacts. James has definitely created some memorable ones. It has been interesting finding a balance between the ones I saw in my own minds eye when I read the novel and the ones I shape from my discourse with the author. Another completely new and satisfying process –a path to agreement– must be forged in order for the author to be happy with what emerges from my pen.
Enjoy!
Yip
Yip is one third of the Time Freaks; criminals who escaped from a maximum security prison using a makeshift time machine constructed from an old bathtub. After discovering his new ability to travel through time on a series of wacky capers, Yip decided it was a good idea to take on a new “space name”.
#11 Tusker
Back in the days before Science, men found the bones of Woolly Mammoths and put them together incorrectly, mistakenly believing they had discovered the remains of a giant humanoid cyclops.
But what if they weren’t mistaken at all?
Day# 23 Gobbler, Spirit of Thanksgiving
Pass The Turkey! (And Don’t forget the Stuffing!)
#23 Gobbler, the Spirit of Thanksgiving came to consciousness sometime around the end of the Twentieth Century as mankind measures things. It was a slow awakening, born out of the human need to give thanks for blessings received, and the growing awareness that the entity to whom these thanks had hitherto flowed may or may not actually exist, and if he did exist was kind of demanding and two-faced anyway. Gradually the idea of a venerable old gobbler who, in the past two hundred years or so always showed up at the dinner table around thanksgiving time, sacrificing himself so that others may feed bountifully, and therefore have something to be thankful for, took hold on the imaginations of the western nations. And in doing so freed the Spirit of Thanksgiving to emerge as a conscious being to join the ranks of the modern day spirits along with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.
Gobbler, the Spirit of Thanksgiving is a crossover character who will be in many of my comics from now on, blessing those who are grateful for what they have even as they strive for more.
Enjoy!
Day# 22 Roadkill, Carrion Crow
Not the Eyes! No! Not the Eyes!
#22 Roadkill the Carrion Crow, aka RK, funny little sentient bird that he is, often finds himself disgusted with his own natural appetites. He really has spent too much time roosting outside of that therapists upstairs office. He often wishes he was human so it would be easier to find something else to eat, but heck, on the other hand he is doing a service to the world, cleaning up the reckless by products of human excess, especially the by products of excessive speed in machines of immense mass.
So RK is in two minds about his place in the world. Either he is a disgusting inhumane pecker of mangled dead bodies, or he is a humane creature nobly going around cleaning up the messes that others leave behind. The one place where he draws the line, though is with the eyes. He can’t even bear to look at a dead creature’s eyes, and shudders with disgust bordering on illness at the very thought of eating them, as he knows his fellow carrion brothers do. This of course sets him up for a certain amount of teasing from his fellows. They will even jokingly set an eyeball or two right in front of him from time to time to see if he’ll throw up some sauce to go with the meal.
But, struggling with his dual view of his place in the universe, he has become somewhat philosophical. To the point where, if it is someone else who is having problems adjusting to the world, he will forget his own struggle while he offers sage advice that if he could hear himself, he might consider taking to his own heart.
Strange things happen when he and Aedre cross paths. By this time Aedre is getting used to the occasional talking animal, but RK is as individual as a snowflake. He has a somewhat changeable nature, sometimes easy going on himself and the world; sometimes belligerent and bellicose. He can be startling in his actions and words, but rarely violent, unless provoked or threatened. On the other hand he can also provide some comic relief. When one is on an epic journey every bit of comic relief is appreciated.
#16 Okorithtan, The First And Last Memory
Okorithan • First And Last Memory
Okorithan is the baylan » who helps put the seed of soul to a newly-conceived mortal. S/he is the first memory that is never lost, but just forgotten. In many ways, s/he manifests in “logical†adult life when waking people begin to be nostalgic for things they have never yet experienced, but seem to know. Okorithan revists his charges the moment they leave the district of childhood and enter prepubescence: his blade scrapes the voices of boys and leaves them deep and rough, unable to reach the note that summons spirits again; it releases the bag of blood every girl carries inside her.
The red eyes on her/his body all open when he walks the Parade. Sometimes a charge or two recognize her/him when s/he visits them in their waking hours, and when that charge walks the Parade, or is directed to it by one of the Four Snows » or Four Fires », Okorithan accompanies them and returns to them the memory of their first day on earth.
#22 Mel aka Firefly Droid
And now things are going to get interesting. The next few characters are going to be droid models.
This is Mel. Mel is an AI that primarily lives on “the net,” that connects all droids.  Its particular model is called “Firefly” as its primary function is to “enlighten.”
What, you didn’t think droids had a sense of humor?
In seriousness, the firefly model of droid is mostly AI. It serves little to no combat purpose. They are responsible for maintaining code, monitoring the functions of the droid plants, and providing reprogramming to any errant droids. They’re definitely the “thinkers” of the droid world.
Mel, in particular, has the very specific purpose of indoctrinating other droids with instructions, training programs, and the like. While the machines primarily call it by its serial number TXN750018, it goes by Mel to better serve the purposes of its job function.
#21 The Maintenance Worker
There are many maintenance workers on Valhalla station, but this one is special. He weaves in and out of people’s notice, calmly cleaning or fixing things on the station, but keep your eye on him. Keep your eye on him.
Day# 20 Flykk, Dragon Hatchling
Hunter or Prey?
#20 Flykk, Dragon Hatchling: Due to the unfortunate accident of a premature hatching while the Dame Dragon was away on an emergency, Flykk found himself alone, exhausted and very, very hungry when he had finally burst himself through the leathery hide of his containing egg. If there had been any others there they would have remarked on his very large size, and the sharpness of his hatching horn.
There were many other eggs in the lair, and the place was warmer than an oven, so it didn’t take Flykk long to recover a bit of strength and pull himself along in search of food. He opened his eyes but the world was a fog of colour to him, in which he could discern only vague shapes that as yet held for him no meaning. He found a few bits and pieces of meat near the lair entrance, that the Dame had dropped when she flew off. But his hunger was gargantuan
There are few predators that will attempt violence against a full grown dragon, but will try to feed on the eggs or any unattended hatchlings if they can get away with it. Gnarwolves for instance, much prefer a hearty meal of hatchling to its usual sparse pickings of hares and other small fast animals. Hatchlings instinctively hunker down and hold perfectly still so that their protective colouring blends them into the landscape around them. But Flykk’s battle with his shell and the absence of the Dame’s restraining hands and wings made his hunger so acute he had to move.
So it was that Flykk found his first meal and his first enemy simultaneously. Making plaintive cries he dragged himself, staggering toward the hot smell of blood and flesh somewhere before him. Though he felt weak with hunger, he was actually gaining in strength as he moved. His wings drying and filling out, began almost to lift him as he gained ground toward that maddening odour. He scrabbled out of the lair and across the rocky terrain, his nose leading the way, his eyes barely opening, mewling for the food he so badly needed.
It was close by now, and there was another smell near it, one that would have spelled instant danger to any animal other than a dragon, hatchling or not. This smell was also food, though less compelling. Flykk was becoming angry now, his frustrated animal need forced him to flap his wings and claw at the ground with his hind claws while he roared his disgust with the world as best he could.
Unfortunately, that was the moment the Gnarwolf chose to attack. –unfortunately for the wolf, that is. For Flykk was larger that he expected, and heavier, and was in the middle of the instinctive dragon dance of bloodrage, clawing with hands and feet, and buffeting with wings, and striking his blind head back and forth jerking upward the gleaming horn on his nose. By the time the Gnarwolf realised his mistake, it was too late. Flykk gored him with his horn, knocked him senseless with his wings and brought down his sharp teeth and claws in a frenzy spurred by the sweet acrid smell of fresh blood.
The hatchling Flykk fed well that first day on Gnarwolf and it’s half-eaten hare. Then he crawled father into the thicket in search of more.
Day# 19 Sly Peter
Sly Peter
Peter Vale (aka Sly Peter) was already established at Maple Public School when Aedre arrived on the scene, and was a couple of grades ahead of her. But since she was an outcast, basically friendless, she had time to notice things about people. And the things she noticed about Peter Vale was that he was a nasty sneaky boy who took pleasure in hurting things smaller than himself –specially if he didn’t get caught doing it.
He was the kind of boy who pulled the wings off live flies and watched them buzz around until either they died or he grew bored with the sport. But not only flies; butterflies too, and if he knew it bothered you (especially if you were a girl) he would follow you around with the poor wingless creatures, sticking them under your nose, so he could get double the enjoyment from the pain he was causing.
He was the kind of boy who tripped the weaker kids in the hall in such a way they didn’t see who it was, or who pinched the little ones he knew were afraid of him –pretty hard, too. Mean and mean-spirited, he was always on the lookout for nasty things he could do to the other kids and to small animals, and get away with it. And if he couldn’t find anything he would make up nasty stories and spread them around.
He would befriend any new kids until he found out everything he wanted to know about them and their family, find out their secrets, blackmail them, and gradually be meaner and meaner to them, until they finally broke away from him.
Aedre watched him, and seeing his methods determined to have nothing to do with him in spite of her need for friendship and the touch of another human being. Therefore when he got around to trying to befriend Aedre, who was as socially ungraceful as wild animal, she scorned him, telling him hotly that she was aware of his sneaky tricks. He denied this in the face of the truth, apparently hurt, for that was his last bastion of defense: no one could prove anything he did. Thus he swore that he would make her sorry for her accusations.
#20 Admiral “Slade” Chavez
I love Battlestar Galactica (new series, not the disco glitter catastrophe from the 70’s). Let’s get that out of the way. I love Battlestar Galactica and it should be no secret that it was a major influence on me in developing Valkyrie Squadron. There’s a lot to love about the show: intense writing, amazing performances, really hard-hitting themes, sweet ass battles; but for all there is to love about BSG, there were parts of that show I didn’t love.
Namely, the familial DRAMAAAAA. From the get-go, we find Commander Adama and his pansy crybaby son, Lee, entwined in some serious DRAAMAAAA following the death of Lee’s brother and the Commander’s Son, Zak. Now, don’t get me wrong. Deaths in the family can fragment the whole crew, but their griping was just OVER THE TOP. Everything AND I MEAN EVERYTHING was a big blowout, usually ending with Lee storming off in a huff and the commander gritting his teeth. It bordered hilarity and merits parody.
So here we are.
Admiral Chavez is the commander of the space forces overall, his power trumps even that of Commander Duri, highest ranking officer on Valhalla station. He is a “good ol’ boy” and macho almost to a fault. He sets the standard for hard-nosed leadership in the upper echelons of the United Space Forces. He’s an aging meathead. He’s basically Lt. Leon Zantha plus 30 years.
Speaking of Zantha, Chavez hand-picked him to make a man out of his “sissy boy” son, Aidan, by assigning his son to Odin Squadron 4. He doesn’t get along with his son at all, because the Admiral would love nothing more than to have his son follow in his footsteps and that’s not likely to happen. We’ve already established Aidan is a cowardly drama queen, not exactly military bad ass material. What’s so frustrating to the admiral is that his ongoing battle with his son is the one battle he can’t settle with a sidearm.
Damn sensitive sissy boys.
You’ll notice the Admiral has a prosthetic eye. Officially, he lost his eye in a key victory against the droids ten years prior, though unofficially, the injury might’ve had more to do with this…
For the record, CMO Bastion does not approve of playing with fireworks while drunk.
Day# 18 Agnes McBeale
The Bitchy Sister
#18 – Agnes McBeale is one year younger than her sister, (#17)Paula but seems so much older–not to mention more irritable and just plain bitchy. With sparse red hair curly hair and being scrawny and tall she is the polar opposite of Paula. Compared to Paula’s flawless skin, Agnes is covered from head to toe in a mass of freckles that she loathes. She confides in no one, keeping herself to herself as much as possible. She has no real friends either, but doesn’t want them, clearing them off with her acid tongue.
The whole of Agnes’ energies is focused entirely on getting through school and away from that cramped, crowded, nasty house, and her so-called “family”. She practically spits when she uses that word. Her grades are very high, but no-one where she lives cares. Except Paula who is jealous of them.
Sometimes, when she deigns to walk to school with Paula and Paula’s dogsbody, Aedre, she spends the whole trip saying cutting things to both girls.
She confides in no one, keeping herself to herself as much as possible. So know one knows what causes her to lash out at everyone around her. One day people will know. But not for awhile yet.
Day# 17 Paula McBeale
Daddy’s Little Princess
Paula McBeale and her sister (#18)Agnes live across the road from Aedre’s new house on Hook Rd. They live in a tiny one-bedroom house that is far too small for four people. To Aedre’s view, they are disgorged from the house every school morning, and swallowed up again right after school as if they don’t exist at any other time.
Paula is secretive and constantly feels deprived, since she get no allowance and has to beg for everything she feels she needs. She finds an outlet for her feelings of resentment about this by stealing small things from school, from stores, from her friends, though in the latter case she calls it “borrowing”. Her favourite thing to steal when she can get it, however, is money. No one finds out about this habit of hers for many years.
She is an excellent actress. After all she’s been acting for Daddy since she was a baby. Sometimes the things he makes her act for him make her uncomfortable but at least she has his undivided attention for periods of time. Daddy is an avid photographer, but he never shows his photos to anyone but Paula, keeping them locked away in a box under her bed, and he says its “our secret game, Princess”. So she is cautioned never to tell anyone about the secret game or Daddy won’t be able to play with her anymore.
She takes to hanging out with Aedre on the way to and from school because she feels that Aedre is so pathetic it makes her look good, and besides, sometimes she can steal stuff from her and she never seems to realise the only person who could have stolen it was Paula. Paula holds Aedre in contempt while pretending to be her friend.
But then, Aedre is conditioned to think that everything bad that happens is her fault, and so if something goes missing then she must have lost it somehow. This suits Paula just fine. Daddy’s little Princess knows how to get on in the world.
#30Characters Chatter…