A hundred word stories. #011 and #012

August 12th, 2009

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sons-of-sorrowfinal
Sons of Sorrow by Ryan Licata
They rode into town at sundown, wild boys on black horses. Sorrow galloped a head of them on a white horse with no saddle. She wore her hair like a squaw. It wasn’t enough that they called her a witch, some dared say that her sons were her lovers too, fathered by the devil all. They drank spirits at the bar and sang their songs. The women locked-up their daughters, who couldn’t help feeling hot with the windows shut-up so. And the men stayed in the bar all night long until Sorrow and her sons rode back east at dawn.

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Il ragazzo con lo zaino a razzo (di Andrea Campanella), parte 2/2
In lontananza si vedono i primi manifestanti. “Andiamo” dice Simone a Francy. Lei è titubante, lui la guarda interrogativo. “Ho paura” dice Francy, “Non ho mai volato con quei così”. Simone le prende le mani e dice: “tesoro dobbiamo andare per molti motivi. Il primo è che qui tra poco ci sarà l’inferno, lo sai meglio di me. Secondo è che devi imparare a volare ed è meglio che lo fai con me. Il terzo è che a mio padre hanno già spaccato la testa ed io voglio volare lontano da qui, molto lontano e voglio farlo con te”. Francy ha le lacrime agli occhi, abbraccia il suo eroe e schizzano verso il blu.

Notes

Sons of sorrow is a particularly intense story to me, this would make a great start for a full length comic or novel. When working on the illustration for this, I first started with a classic western picture with horses and all. Later I resorted to this one, where you don’t know exactly where they are. They might be just about to enter the saloon, or riding through the desert on the back of a horse. For the second story I took a bit of inspiration from the characters in Tekkonkinkreet, a great movie you should see if you haven’t done so alredy.

A hundred word stories. #009 and #010

July 29th, 2009

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when the sun died

Gone (by Ryan Licata)

Were you there the day the sun got lost? She asked him. He said he wasn’t, hesitating because he didn’t really know if he was telling the truth. She might well have asked him if he’d been there the day the Berlin Wall came down or the day the music died? For all he knew he was and he wasn’t. She herself didn’t seem to remember if she was or wasn’t there but just to prove that she was definitely there she went on to describe how the sun that day was there and then, just like that, it wasn’t.

rocket

Il ragazzo con lo zaino a razzo (di Andrea Campanella), parte 1/2

Il ragazzo con lo zaino a razzo buca la nuvola e saluta i viaggiatori dell’aerostato.

Scende in picchiata e punta sulla piazza principale. Molta gente passeggia nervosamente. C’è il chiosco di un uomo di mezza età, che prepara dell’ottima torta di verdura. Si chiama Peppe Dorigo. “Simone!” chiama la ragazzina appena uscita da scuola. “Francy” risponde il ragazzino con lo zaino a propulsione. Si abbracciano, mentre in piazza arrivano le forze della milizia. “Sgomberare prego, tra poco arriva la manifestazione e ci sarà da divertirsi” dice il capo milizia agitando il bastone di acciaio.

Notes

Unfortunately time is a bit scarce right now, so I couldn’t work on the first illustration as much as I would have liked to… Nonetheless I like the idea, it could be even a great starting point for something else… Andrea did not follow the one hundred words rule, but I decided to take the story anyway and just split into two pieces. Just regard this as a hundred word episodic story :)

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