Picture Photo Combo #2 - "Tower Set Sail" and Essex Masque Update

Hello All,

Just an update that my story, "Douglas and the Snowball" is up at the Adventure Worlds Blog. Check them out on the blog, and on their Facebook page, for other Windsor - Essex writers.

http://adventureworldsblog.com/
https://www.facebook.com/adventureworldsblog

Also, I will be posting my first Random Musing (Creative non-fiction) very soon. It is called The Heap or the Hoard, and is an Ainu folk tale inspired meditation on people who hoard.

And here is a brief little story inspired by a picture I took the other day.

                                         Floating Tower by Patrick Firth

Tower Set Sail

On days where mist formed on the Detroit River, Brandon got out his mom's camera, took out the watercolour paints, or got out his pencil and paper. He had read lots of stories where the hero would only be able to use his powers if he was really angry. He had watched a movie where the hero could only fight well if he was drunk. Well, he had seen half of it before his dad realized that he had been hiding behind the chair and watching the adult movie an hour after bedtime. Brandon's muse, the source of his artistic power, seemed to be mist.

This day, with both the States and Amherstburg invisible with the fog that hung heavy over the river, Brandon felt electrified. His hair stood on end and his fingers twitched for whatever work they might be put to. There was a difference today though, and Brandon had a hard time thinking of what it was. As if something might, happen. He really didn't know what that meant, this happening, but it was hard to keep himself contained.

Later he could not explain why he chose to draw instead of going out into it. Breathing in the magic of the mist and finding the hidden things that only come out when the light of the day is not there to scare them away. He should have at least taken the camera, instead of sitting in his room and looking out the window. Instead, he was forced to see the tower on Boblo Island, the legacy of the amusement park that closed before he was born, float away into the mist like it was the mast of some ship set sail for an otherworldly coast.

He stared at the place it had been for a long time after, forgotten pencil on paper as white and untouched as the mist that had carried the tower away.