A tramp was sitting, in a pub, the time was exactly eight thirty, a pint in front of him fruitful, and golden-brown money, sprang from his hands, a large plate of mash, and pie was set, before him, green! and wet he was, had slept in nature, very slim fingers he had, and willowy hair, roots stretching out from under his trousers, creeping along the worn wooden floor below, very black felt hat and two black eyes above, a small leaf grew, from the black-tarred half-timbered, post behind him, then a twig, then more leaves, then more twigs, and mould, mould sprouted there on the cushions, the woodwork creaked, water seeped up, from the cellar, so mice and water voles, abandoned basement, spreading among, the tables a ladylike, scream, swearing, yelling, people in panic.
Beer was spilled.
Nice! I can see what you saw as you wrote this. Does this dude bring magical realism with him everywhere he goes? Do you? I am not sorry he walked into that pub.
I love the drawing for this story. Chaotic, beer bubbly, people panicked. Screaming! Is it a "freewrite" drawing? Did you make it before or after the story was done?
The whole thing flowed - I added a lot of commas afterwards and changed words to get the rhythm, but judging from how he just flowed out in letter - from that first sentence - I think he probably do bring the magic with him.
And the drawing is one of many freewrite drawing in small format I have done lately, so yes, just like the stories - but made a couple of days before.
That's a real stream of something. You are really on a creative streak lately. Any plans for longer form works?
I do have a lot of longer forms works in the making, but it has been a bit hard for me to get up in gear, and then these little tales have been a good way to get back on the track. It is funny and non-committal so I have gone with the flow. I think I am making a small freeculture book with the best of them.