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This Butterflies in Knots short story was inspired by the blue butterfly in charcoal and vibrant aqua painting by the artist MendyZ.

October 6th, 2016

This Butterflies in Knots short story was inspired by the blue butterfly in charcoal and vibrant aqua painting by the artist MendyZ.

Butterflies in Knots a Short story Inspired by http://exclusive-canvas-art.pixels.com/featured/blue-butterfly-in-charcoal-and-vibrant-aqua-paint-mendyz-.html

This Butterflies in Knots short story was inspired by painting by the artist MendyZ. Click to look at the painting.

This Butterflies in Knots short story was inspired by the blue butterfly in charcoal and vibrant aqua painting by the artist MendyZ.



The beautiful painting is available as prints in all sorts of ways that can match your decor.

But it also is available for print on some pretty cool functional products.

Pillows
battery packs for your phone
shower curtains ...


Butterflies in Knots



The blue butterfly fluttered around my finger like a house in a tornado. The beautiful blue shimmered in the sun, shining a beautiful pale blue light on my finger as the skin was lit by the golden orb in the sky. I stared up with fluttering eyes, looking as the little creature fluttered around my finger gently. I felt the pain sink away from my head. A dull sensation dared lick the nerve endings in the front of my head with a kind of wonderful fire that made me giggle slightly. I relaxed, feeling this sensation wash over me. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the warm feeling wash over my entire body. As I rested my back on the carpet, touching the back of my head to the furry carpet, I felt at peace with the world. It felt as if a smile was eternally stained on my face. The feeling of bliss was amazing as it washed over my entire body as if it was like a wave of pure happiness washing over my very body. There was no other feeling like it, I could imagine. Have you ever come in from a cold winter day and jumped into a hot shower? That is what this sensation felt like and it felt powerful.

The butterfly wandered around my finger, racing up my finger like a spinning top. Slowly, it reached my legs out, grabbing my finger tip with my legs. It slowly perched on my finger, the wings slowly pressed together behind its back. It stared at me with large eyes, yet they weren’t like the normal bug eyes. They were beautiful eyes, like shiny disco balls. I slowly felt my smile grow wider. The butterfly's wings spread, the wings beating a little. Feeling the soft air beat on my sensitive finger tips, my brain fired with soft shots of pleasure. The butterfly flew around my finger again, feeling my life turn a bit more beautiful every second I stared at the butterfly. My brain disappeared into imagination, feeling my vision slowly dull as I started to disappear from reality. My eyes disappeared into fantasy. I breathed a long sigh of relief as my mind slowly peeled away from my body.

Lazily, I brought my hand down to the soft carpet. The butterfly quickly took flight away from my finger, spreading its wings and flying beautifully around the small space we found ourselves in. My mind drifted off further, thinking about diamonds and the joy of life. I imagined me and the butterfly, spinning around an open cornfield. A wonderful piece of joy for the entire two of us. The barley was fluffy and a beautiful golden color, they didn’t prick or annoy the skin, they were like fluffy bits of blanket. The butterfly danced beautifully, without any protest against the wind, around my head. I danced my hand through the barley as I giggled, my heart beat with a joy I’ve never felt before. The happiness grew so large, where it almost hurt. Happiness almost hurt my chest, burying into it like a tick. Yet, it was a wonderful tick. A tick that replaced my blood with happiness and my pain with joy. It was a parasite made all the ingredients of love and joy. That was my butterfly. It was an insect, usually something to be destroyed or burned. If I heard there was an insect in my room, my first thought would be to get a can of spray and gas it to the point of death. Yet, with the butterfly, it was different. This butterfly had diamonds for wings, a body made of wonderful black silver, and a soul made of gold.

We danced around the beautiful barley field. It ran on infinitely and I started to sprint through the field, the butterfly following after me. Quickly, I ran faster, with my arms spread out. Feeling the wonderful carpet rub against my arms and my hands, I took in the feeling of the wonderful barley. Finally, I collapsed in the middle of the field, not from exhaustion. I fell on my back for the sheer joy of it , making an angel in the barley. I felt at bliss with the world, with my eyes closed. Yet, as soon as I opened my eyes, the sun grew too bright. The simple sun grew to cover the sky.

I wasn’t in a field full of barley. I was in the trunk of a car. My kidnappers had opened the trunk and the butterfly flew away.

THE END

and more...
Artist MendyZ
Artist MendyZ Facebook for more short stories, deals, promotions, and discounts


http://exclusive-canvas-art.pixels.com/featured/blue-butterfly-in-charcoal-and-vibrant-aqua-paint-mendyz.html


Flying Solo - A short story on metamorphosis Inspired by a painting by the artist MendyZ

September 30th, 2016

Flying Solo - A short story on metamorphosis Inspired by a painting by the artist MendyZ

Flying Solo - A short story on metamorphosis Inspired by a painting by the artist MendyZ



This short story was inspired by the painting by the artist MendyZ

This short story was inspired by the painting by the artist MendyZ
Click to look at the painting.
The beautiful painting is available as prints in all sorts of ways that can match your decor.

But it also is available for print on some pretty cool functional products.

Pillows
battery packs for your phone
shower curtains


http://exclusive-canvas-art.pixels.com/featured/portrait-of-female-with-hair-billowing-everywhere-in-radiant-unsmiling-sharp-features-golden-warm-colors-and-upturned-nose-curls-and-aliens-of-the-departure-mendyz-.html


“Now I have become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” She spoke into the microphone. Toggling the little nub on and off in her anxiety and excitement. Feeling the metallic cold, and the carefully etched ridges against her fluorescent scaly skin. She used to be human. Or at least that is what she made herself out to be for around a millennia of time. Time choked in chemical and biological reactions, that made her sneeze. She never could escape the feeling of her skin crawling.

The faint EM burst under ship, well to be specific the ships cloaking device, and her pursuers turned to chase. She relished in these moments. Not too sure if her human habitations rubbed off on her. She never would have enjoyed such a mundane event. It was more so, that she got stuck in the earthly way of thinking. All about the moment. It was fun. But, very demanding to turn off her connections to the universe and intensely focus on the micro scale. The scale where molecules reside. The universe couldn't care less about a single chemical bonding with another random puzzle piece. Or a moment in time. Even less so about the feeling and emotions that might cause in an insignificant biological being. It cared about the macro scale, the galaxian scale. The scale where communications happened from one galaxy to another. It relished in the huge. She learned that there was a threshold that was simply noise. That was the human realm. But, yet it seeped through her scales and into her conscience. By the very nature of being there, this Schrodinger idea, killed the tenuous galaxaial level of connecting. Yet, it excited her and she pursued it, against the wishes of those in her life. Even if they were galaxies apart.

The seals around her helmet hissed as she pulled it off. Piece by piece she left her EVA suit floating in the dark. As long as she was not compressed into the micro environment she was safe to float about. She could see in other spectrum, and interact with radiation, magnetic, and other phenomena of the macro universe. She just didn't feel herself. She was hiding in her given manifestation. She hated it. It made her sick. She wanted to vomit. Sure, she loved the benefits of being on a connected level with her galactal kin, but there was something tenuously pulling her towards the side she shouldn't be in. The shapes, and senses, and feelings, and likenesses all came crashing about here in a truth. A truth she needed. A truth she thrived for. A truth that could kill her. She swirled about, her hair gliding in all directions, catching planetary glimmers and waving back at the universe.

The cabin was blackness, save for the shimmering sea of emergency lights and readouts. She look into the windows from outside. That shell that engulfed her, her cocoon, her entryway into the light of her life. Her prison. The harshness of the metal canister coldly giggled back at her. Teasing her to climb back in it and be herself. Even for a moment. She danced and swirled around the casket floating through space and time. Listening to the chirps of the universe. Demanding answers from the planets that hissed at her for being withing that button laden machine. Buttons everywhere, blinking back at her. Begging to be pushed. Begging for her to be her true self. Demanding she pop back into it, encapsulate her head, and begin to breath the sweet earthly delights. Little LEDs winked in her direction as if to share in her despise for her current body. Her glinting scales, and green ooze. But, most of all for her macro abilities. They were just not what the earthling biologic could understand. It was too difficult for them. They tried. But they fell so far from the mark that she had to burst out laughing.

Passive sensors still tracked the Nova Bomb as it raced at nearly a tenth the speed of light toward the center of this system. She shivered in anticipation as her green ethereal self, and then began to make choices. Choices that chirped back into her macro world and sped out towards galaxies that were million of galaxies apart. They cracked back at her in response. Filled with hate, and death, and despise for her forsaking her given form. How could she abandon them. How could she defy the sense of self that was handed to her by time. Thrust upon her by the very fabric of this universe. She shouted back at them in fear. Her voice shaking as she blasted her desired forth. Glimmers of her hidden choices sped forth through the universes. They completely freaked out. Her choices, her decisions were not taken lightly, just as she feared. All she wanted was to live, not die, to connect, not reshape anyone else. Her soul was being ripped from her being. Shredded by others. She grasped at the small things she had mistakenly shed to the open public universal forum and grew wearily of fighting. She should fight. This was her being. She wanted to be whoever she wanted to be. They should have no right. But, the macro universe understood the significance and couldn't bear to watch it unfold. She swirled around to the cockpit windows and look in.

Glowing below, the console showed that the ships faster than light systems were nearly spooled. The alien fleets closed in around her, and the navigation computers couldn’t solve for a way out. She forgot about her problems of self and focused on the issue at hand. Almost choking as she to death, as she went from the macro to the micro. Forgetting that she needed a protected helmet, oxygen, and other tools to help her hide while she crawled back to the realm of chemistry, molecules, and uncontrollable emotions. She clawed her way back into the airlock portal.

She had seen the effects of a Jump from inside the system, and unfastened the harness of her cockpit chair. She was too close to too many gravitation bodies, and even if she lived and her ship was intact, the Jump will not be easy. She didn’t want things to touch her, lest they be fused together after the failed Jump. An odd mixture of the galactic and molecular. She could never happily roam through the universe that way. But, she must do something, and fast. She couldn't bounce back and forth anymore. She had to choose, and stay, and cultivate it.

The creatures’ weapons detonated millions of kilometers away, but still lit her cockpit through the blast shielding. She could feel the twinkly kisses of heat that marked the bursts of hard radiation. If she lived through the Jump, she could worry about her personal problems later.

She had to keep the monsters busy, and let the bomb reach the star. The resplendent fires of a billion years’ worth of solar fuel would cleanse this system of the threat to all life; An experiment that ran amok, a beast that simply could not be tamed. The monsters screamed into the dark, calling for the end all of other species on a micro level. It was fitting that her task was to do the same to them, and of herself. Her heart ached with the thought of a molten rock that was once Earth.

Beams and bombs lanced across the monitors as the monsters loomed in the empty space between planets. She knew if she waited too long, the bomb would have taken her gravity point away, dumping the spooler and stranding her here.

The ships cloak fails as one of the many random fusion bombs washes too many particles across her shimmering hull. The radiant burst alerts all the nearby ships to her location, and she watches across the light barrier as her macro self as they turn toward her, clawing at the space between with brilliant arcs of fire and anger.

The countdown reaches zero. The bomb cannot be intercepted at this point. In a few short minutes this entire system will cease to exist. Her desire to remain true to herself will be gone forever. And maybe, to have existed at all would be nothing but a streak of color in the inky blackness of space. She didn’t fuss too much with the causal paradoxes that came with her ships FTL drive.

She pressed the button.

The Universe dropped away into a single finite point, the human craft spread out across the entirely of time and space. Her hair blew in the solar winds of galaxies long burnt out. The warm of eternity awaited. She was herself in that moment.

Then instantly ceased to exist.

It was worth it for that one brief micro moment.

THE END

and more...
http://MendyZ.com

The Enchanted Tin Pot A short story inspired by the painting young women washing bent over the river by the Artist MendyZ

September 26th, 2016

The Enchanted Tin Pot  A short story inspired by the painting young women washing bent over the river by the Artist MendyZ

The Enchanted Tin pot

A Short Story - Inspired by Young Woman Bent Over the River A painting by the artist MendyZ


Kate Woodley looked at the enchanted tin pot in her hands and felt stressed. This was unusual for her. She generally had no qualms, and was calm in her isolated environment. She calmed, then tensed again. Her soft body locking up scared her. Kate whirled around searching for the source. she noticed the cracked window, her potbellied stove, her drying hosiery, and the meager supplies stacked neatly in a corner of her wooden home. A home tucked beneath the mountains shadow.

She sat on the rolled up mat that served as her bed, and felt the bamboo mat reeds beneath her thin gauzy dress. she sighed as the feeling dissipated mildly from her bones. She reached for the simple end table, which only held a candle perched on a volcano of melted wax, and a tin pot. Clinked the spoon as it scraped the bottom and used her whole fist to grip the spoon and bring the now cold soup to her lips.

Where had the time gone, she had just finished heating up the can of soup. She mused a little on that, and then let it slip gently from her mind. This was how she survived the past few years. Just forgetting. Or at least working hard at forgetting. Her misgivings, her sweetness, her past lives, all of them.

She walked over to the cracked window and reflected on her damp surroundings. She had always loved the depths of the creepy Santa Cruz Mountains with its fair, weathered and fat trees. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel less stressed. But, she knew she was not safe. She never would be.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ashley Teller. Ashley was an admirable but creepy woman with thick collarbones and sweet skin. She marched onward piercing Kate's memories until they shattered and fled on their own accord.

Kate gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a stable, now instantly cowardly, with frumpy collarbone and shaky sternum as her ragged breath began to quicken. Her ancient friends saw her as a depressed, dripping deity. Once, she had even spent a generation helping a frail old lady recover from a flying accident. But now all she could do was arch her back as she dropped to the ground in a convulsion. Not even a stable, strong person was prepared for what Ashley had in store today.

The clouds danced like throwing demons, as the Santa Cruz Fire ripped through the serene mountains, making Kate blubber and bounce. She saw stars as she hit her head on the tin pot pouring forth a spray of dark red blood across the cracked window pane.

As Kate crawled outside over the weathered treads and Ashley came closer, she could see the heavy glint in her eye. She could see the smoke outline her body, and felt the energy drain from her body.

"I am here because I want peace," Ashley bellowed, in a deranged mocking tone. She slammed her fist against Kate's chest, with such force that it rattled her senses. "I frigging hate you, Kate Woodley."

Kate looked back, even more shocked and still fingering the enchanted tin pot. "Ashley, your evilness is draining me," she replied. "We used to have something together". "Something special", she pleaded.

They looked at each other with concerned feelings, like two screeching, selfish spirits loving at a very scheming accident, which had soft bells music playing in the background and two gentle spirits crying to the beat.

Kate studied Ashley's thick collarbone and sweet skin. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you peace," she explained, in pitying tones. She rubbed the tin pot. A screeching sound poured forth from her body and enraged the roiling air around the two of them. A crack splintered the air, and then the gully was silent.

Ashley looked sleepy, her body raw like a wet washing station. "Anybody up there", Kate whispered in mocking joy.

Kate could actually hear Ashley's body shatter into pieces. Then the admirable coward hurried away into the distance to seek wash her battered dripping skull, and off into another gully to hide from enemies of centuries past.

Not even a drink of hot soup would calm Kate's nerves tonight.

THE END

You can get the print that this short story was Inspired by From here. Young Woman Bent Over the River by the artist MendyZ. You can even get this painting on a phone case, makeup bag, or backup battery!

Short Screenplay based on the painting Flaming Orange Blue Kitty by the artist MendyZ

September 26th, 2016

Short Screenplay based on the painting Flaming Orange Blue Kitty by the artist MendyZ

Tactless Cow

A Short Screenplay
Inspired by the painting Flaming Orange Blue Kittyartist MendyZ

INT. A SWEET SHOP - AFTERNOON

Daring gardener PROF ZOE JONES is arguing with thoughtful cleaner MISS HANNAH BOGTROTTER. ZOE tries to hug HANNAH but she shakes her off.

ZOE
Please Hannah, don't leave me.
HANNAH
I'm sorry Zoe, but I'm looking for somebody a bit more brave. Somebody who faces her fears head on, instead of running away.
ZOE
I am such a person!
HANNAH frowns.

HANNAH
I'm sorry, Zoe. I just don't feel excited by this relationship anymore.
HANNAH leaves.

ZOE sits down, looking defeated.

Moments later, admirable fishmonger DI ROBERT THUNDER barges in looking flustered.

ZOE
Goodness, Robert! Is everything okay?
ROBERT
I'm afraid not.
ZOE
What is it? Don't keep me in suspense...
ROBERT
It's ... a cow ... I saw an evil cow gobble a bunch of kittens!
ZOE
Defenseless kittens?
ROBERT
Yes, defenseless kittens!
ZOE
Bloomin' heck, Robert! We've got to do something.
ROBERT
I agree, but I wouldn't know where to start.
ZOE
You can start by telling me where this happened.
ROBERT
I was...
ROBERT fans himself and begins to wheeze.

ZOE
Focus Robert, focus! Where did it happen?
ROBERT
The Eden Project! That's right - The Eden Project!
ZOE springs up and begins to run.


EXT. A ROAD - CONTINUOUS

ZOE rushes along the street, followed by ROBERT. They take a short cut through some back gardens, jumping fences along the way.


EXT. THE EDEN PROJECT - SHORTLY AFTER

CHANTAL PARKES a tactless cow terrorises two kittens.

ZOE, closely followed by ROBERT, rushes towards CHANTAL, but suddenly stops in her tracks.

ROBERT
What is is? What's the matter?
ZOE
That's not just any old cow, that's Chantal Parkes!
ROBERT
Who's Chantal Parkes?
ZOE
Who's Chantal Parkes? Who's Chantal Parkes? Only the most tactless cow in the universe!
ROBERT
Blinkin' knickers, Zoe! We're going to need some help if we're going to stop the most tactless cow in the universe!
ZOE
You can say that again.
ROBERT
Blinkin' knickers, Zoe! We're going to need some help if we're going to stop the most tactless cow in the universe!
ZOE
I'm going to need paperweights, lots of paperweights.
Chantal turns and sees Zoe and Robert. She grins an evil grin.

CHANTAL
Zoe Jones, we meet again.
ROBERT
You've met?
ZOE
Yes. It was a long, long time ago...

EXT. A PARK - BACK IN TIME

A young ZOE is sitting in a park listening to some piano music, when suddenly a dark shadow casts over her.

She looks up and sees CHANTAL. She takes off her headphones.

CHANTAL
Would you like some white mice?
ZOE's eyes light up, but then he studies CHANTAL more closely, and looks uneasy.

ZOE
I don't know, you look kind of tactless.
CHANTAL
Me? No. I'm not tactless. I'm the least tactless cow in the world.
ZOE
Wait, you're a cow?
ZOE runs away, screaming.


EXT. THE EDEN PROJECT - PRESENT DAY

CHANTAL
You were a coward then, and you are a coward now.
ROBERT
(To ZOE) You ran away?
ZOE
(To ROBERT) I was a young child. What was I supposed to do?
ZOE turns to CHANTAL.

ZOE
I may have run away from you then, but I won't run away this time!
ZOE runs away.

She turns back and shouts.

ZOE
I mean, I am running away, but I'll be back - with paperweights.
CHANTAL
I'm not scared of you.
ZOE
You should be.

INT. NATIONAL HISTORY MUSEUM - LATER THAT DAY

ZOE and ROBERT walk around searching for something.

ZOE
I feel sure I left my paperweights somewhere around here.
ROBERT
Are you sure? It does seem like an odd place to keep deadly paperweights.
ZOE
You know nothing Robert Thunder.
ROBERT
We've been searching for ages. I really don't think they're here.
Suddenly, CHANTAL appears, holding a pair of paperweights.

CHANTAL
Looking for something?
ROBERT
Crikey, Zoe, she's got your paperweights.
ZOE
Tell me something I don't already know!
ROBERT
The earth's circumference at the equator is about 40,075 km.
ZOE
I know that already!
ROBERT
I pickle my earwax and keep it in a jar under my bed.
CHANTAL
(appalled) Dude!
While CHANTAL is looking at ROBERT with disgust, ZOE lunges forward and grabs her deadly paperweights. He wields them, triumphantly.

ZOE
Prepare to die, you tactless cauliflower!
CHANTAL
No please! All I did was gobble a bunch of kittens!
HANNAH enters, unseen by any of the others.

ZOE
I cannot tolerate that kind of behaviour! Those kittens were defenceless! Well now they have a defender - and that's me! Zoe Jones defender of innocent kittens.
CHANTAL
Don't hurt me! Please!
ZOE
Give me one good reason why I shouldn't use these paperweights on you right away!
CHANTAL
Because Zoe, I am your mother.
ZOE looks stunned for a few moments, but then collects herself.

ZOE
No you're not!
CHANTAL
Ah well, it had to be worth a try.
CHANTAL tries to grab the paperweights but ZOE dodges out of the way.

ZOE
Who's the mummy now? Huh? Huh?
Unexpectedly, CHANTAL slumps to the ground.

ROBERT
Did she just faint?
ZOE
I think so. Well that's disappointing. I was rather hoping for a more dramatic conclusion, involving my deadly paperweights.
ZOE crouches over CHANTAL's body.

ROBERT
Be careful, Zoe. It could be a trick.
ZOE
No, it's not a trick. It appears that... It would seem... Chantal Parkes is dead!
ZOE
What?
ZOE
Yes, it appears that I scared her to death.
ROBERT claps his hands.

ROBERT
So your paperweights did save the day, after all.
HANNAH steps forward.

HANNAH
Is it true? Did you kill the tactless cow?
ZOE
Hannah how long have you been...?
HANNAH puts her arm around ZOE.

HANNAH
Long enough.
ZOE
Then you saw it for yourself. I killed Chantal Parkes.
HANNAH
Then the kittens are safe?
ZOE
It does seem that way!
A crowd of vulnerable kittens enter, looking relived.

HANNAH
You are their hero.
The kittens bow to ZOE.

ZOE
There is no need to bow to me. I seek no worship. The knowledge that Chantal Parkes will never gobble kittens ever again, is enough for me.
HANNAH
You are humble as well as brave!
One of the kittens passes ZOE a shiny talisman

HANNAH
I think they want you to have it, as a symbol of their gratitude.
ZOE
I couldn't possibly.
Pause.

ZOE
Well, if you insist.
ZOE takes the talisman.

ZOE
Thank you.
The kittens bow their heads once more, and leave.

ZOE turns to HANNAH.

ZOE
Does this mean you want me back?
HANNAH
Oh, Zoe, of course I want you back!
ZOE smiles for a few seconds, but then looks defiant.

ZOE
Well you can't have me.
HANNAH
WHAT?
ZOE
You had no faith in me. You had to see my scare a cow to death before you would believe in me. I don't want a lover like that.
HANNAH
But...
ZOE
Please leave. I want to spend time with the one person who stayed with me through thick and thin - my best friend, Robert.
ROBERT grins.

HANNAH
But...
ROBERT
You heard the lady. Now be off with you. Skidaddle! Shoo!
HANNAH
Zoe?
ZOE
I'm sorry Hannah, but I think you should skidaddle.
HANNAH leaves.

ROBERT turns to ZOE.

ROBERT
Did you mean that? You know ... that I'm your best friend?
ZOE
Of course you are!
The two walk off arm in arm.

Suddenly ROBERT stops.

ROBERT
When I said I pickle my earwax and keep it in a jar under my bed, you know I was just trying to distract the cow don't you?

THE END

You can get a print of this amazing cat painting on all sorts of functional items, even a backup battery for your phone!

The Enchanted Tin Pot A short story inspired by the painting young women washing bent over the river by the Artist MendyZ

September 26th, 2016

The Enchanted Tin Pot  A short story inspired by the painting young women washing bent over the river by the Artist MendyZ

The Enchanted Tin pot

A Short Story - Inspired by Young Women Washing Bent Over River A painting by the artist MendyZ


Kate Woodley looked at the enchanted tin pot in her hands and felt stressed. This was unusual for her. She generally had no qualms, and was calm in her isolated environment. She calmed, then tensed again. Her soft body locking up scared her. Kate whirled around searching for the source. she noticed the cracked window, her potbellied stove, her drying hosiery, and the meager supplies stacked neatly in a corner of her wooden home. A home tucked beneath the mountains shadow.

She sat on the rolled up mat that served as her bed, and felt the bamboo mat reeds beneath her thin gauzy dress. she sighed as the feeling dissipated mildly from her bones. She reached for the simple end table, which only held a candle perched on a volcano of melted wax, and a tin pot. Clinked the spoon as it scraped the bottom and used her whole fist to grip the spoon and bring the now cold soup to her lips.

Where had the time gone, she had just finished heating up the can of soup. She mused a little on that, and then let it slip gently from her mind. This was how she survived the past few years. Just forgetting. Or at least working hard at forgetting. Her misgivings, her sweetness, her past lives, all of them.

She walked over to the cracked window and reflected on her damp surroundings. She had always loved the depths of the creepy Santa Cruz Mountains with its fair, weathered and fat trees. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel less stressed. But, she knew she was not safe. She never would be.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ashley Teller. Ashley was an admirable but creepy woman with thick collarbones and sweet skin. She marched onward piercing Kate's memories until they shattered and fled on their own accord.

Kate gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a stable, now instantly cowardly, with frumpy collarbone and shaky sternum as her ragged breath began to quicken. Her ancient friends saw her as a depressed, dripping deity. Once, she had even spent a generation helping a frail old lady recover from a flying accident. But now all she could do was arch her back as she dropped to the ground in a convulsion. Not even a stable, strong person was prepared for what Ashley had in store today.

The clouds danced like throwing demons, as the Santa Cruz Fire ripped through the serene mountains, making Kate blubber and bounce. She saw stars as she hit her head on the tin pot pouring forth a spray of dark red blood across the cracked window pane.

As Kate crawled outside over the weathered treads and Ashley came closer, she could see the heavy glint in her eye. She could see the smoke outline her body, and felt the energy drain from her body.

"I am here because I want peace," Ashley bellowed, in a deranged mocking tone. She slammed her fist against Kate's chest, with such force that it rattled her senses. "I frigging hate you, Kate Woodley."

Kate looked back, even more shocked and still fingering the enchanted tin pot. "Ashley, your evilness is draining me," she replied. "We used to have something together". "Something special", she pleaded.

They looked at each other with concerned feelings, like two screeching, selfish spirits loving at a very scheming accident, which had soft bells music playing in the background and two gentle spirits crying to the beat.

Kate studied Ashley's thick collarbone and sweet skin. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you peace," she explained, in pitying tones. She rubbed the tin pot. A screeching sound poured forth from her body and enraged the roiling air around the two of them. A crack splintered the air, and then the gully was silent.

Ashley looked sleepy, her body raw like a wet washing station. "Anybody up there", Kate whispered in mocking joy.

Kate could actually hear Ashley's body shatter into pieces. Then the admirable coward hurried away into the distance to seek wash her battered dripping skull, and off into another gully to hide from enemies of centuries past.

Not even a drink of hot soup would calm Kate's nerves tonight.

THE END

Short story inspired by Portrait painting of a hotel in Red Gray Black by mendyz

September 16th, 2016

Short story inspired by Portrait painting of a hotel in Red Gray Black  by mendyz

Short story inspired by Portrait painting of a hotel in Red Gray Black by mendyz

Short story inspired by Portrait painting of girl in red by MendyZ

It's easy to get lost in thought, isn't it? To be doing some mindless or rather repetitive task and then just have your mind wandered away, leaving you in this autopilot state. Your mind is thinking about all the embarrassing or wonderful things you've done with your life. To be frank, my mind always liked to play with the awkward things, my brain likes to imagine double every awkward thing I have ever done. It does it to the point where even the tiniest of infractions of social rules or law, are applied into detonations of nuclear proportions of defacement of basic human decency. As I exposed photos in the red room, seeing the pictures fade in from the white, I felt my brain drift off to one I took the photos. Seeing the features of a dog and, behind it, a wonderful wall covered in colour books with titles that belonged in the 18th century, I thought back to the adventure that led me there.

I had offered to walk my friend's dog, a wonderful golden retriever. that had golden hair like it was made out of shredded Spanish doubloons. Walking her around town, I quickly found the old warehouses that lined the outskirts of my town. They weren't the nicest of places, covered in spray paint and smelling like a mixture of paint, urine and, what I could only imagine to be, ever illegal substance on Earth. As I walked along the warehouses, I noticed a gap between a set of two of them. A gap wide enough to fit a small lorry between them. The dog started to turn towards it and, as I was about to yank the leash to guide him away, I noticed a wonderful house in the distance. Looking down the gap, I saw the beautiful victorian house. Made out of beautiful painted wood, the windows bricked up with red bricks, and the roof somehow still stable. The dog barked at nothing, it yanked against the leash and tried to bolt down the gap. I told it to calm down but it bolted again, the leash escaping from my hand.

The dog rushed down the gap, bolting towards nowhere in particular as its long legs took like strides as the dog dashed with the speed of a small cheetah towards the house. Shouting, I gave chase. Running like an idiot, holding my bag, stuffed with my camera and notepad, I ran towards the dog. The dog stopped in front of the Victorian House door, sitting there like how a dog sits at a back door, waiting for its owner to let it out. Sitting there, wagging its tail, as I was had my hands on my legs, trying to fill my lungs with the precious oxygen that they so needed. The dog kept barking at the door, sitting there like the idiot that it was. Eventually, I filled my lungs with enough air to straighten myself out.

Walking over to the dog, I had patted it on the head and asked it to shut up. Taking a inquisitive hand, I pushed at the door and it, without a single creak, swung open. As the door got half way open, the dog ran in, throwing the door open the entire way. The wooden slab smacked against the bricked up wall, making the brick sound like a siren as the rocks made a resounding sound as the dog ran around the abandoned house, barking its head off as it went. I saw it dash up and down the wooden stairs, run in and out of doors, dive in and out of rooms and the whole other nine yards. Taking a step inside, I looked around the abandoned building. The wood was only barely rotten, the rooms still filled with furniture, the doors still strong. It was like I stepped through a portal to a hundred or two hundred years ago.

The dog finally stepped at the top of the stairs and turned its head at me. Giving an excited bark, the dog dashed into another door. Taking the short flight of stairs up towards where the dog dodged into, I muttered under my breath about that stupid dog. Woofing at me from a slightly ajar door, I propped open the door and saw a lovely beautiful sight. A study with an entire wall covered in a large bookshelf, and the entire bookshelf completely stocked with old books of every colour of the rainbow and every size imaginable. They look like they were all in mint condition, with barely a scratch on them. Looking down, I saw the dog staring at me with one of those goofy canine smiles. Pulling a camera out of my bag, I crouched down and snapped a picture of the dog, immortalizing that goofy smile.

I smiled as the red light of the red room twinkled in my eyes, it was a beautiful sight all of those books. As the picture matured, I smiled, patting the bag, now filled with beautiful books. It was truly a beautiful sight. Memories are a wonderful thing. Life doesn't always have conclusions, but the events can still be treasured as such. I always remember that house, even if there was no story conclusion to that tale.

Summer night in the city sketch drawing

September 14th, 2016

Summer night in the city sketch drawing

It is odd to wake up to music. Not, I don't mean, like hearing the music you picked for your alarm clock. That's fairly normal. To hear the first notes of Ode of Joy because you thought it would be ironic to have that as the opening to your first groggy moment of the day. The Ode of Joy playing as you tried to pull yourself out of the warm grasp of your blanket, that's rather normal. Hearing any music as your alarm is normal. It is downright ordinary and, even, possibly the most normal thing on Earth. The most normal thing on Earth is being that you wake up to music from an alarm clock or an alarm on your phone. Odd to imagine that, everyone waking up at similar times to music that they once chose because it was their favourite song and is now their most hated song.

Maybe, at one point when you wake up, someone is listening to the same song as you are. Listening to the exact same guitar or the exact same voice as you as you both do the roll of shame out of bed. That is an incredible thought but it is not the odd thing that happened to me. I woke up to actual music. Living on the very top floor, I hear everything that goes on the roof. If there is someone fixing a satellite to the roof, I hear the bolts being drilled into the floor. If some teenagers are goofing off up their with some bottles of beer, then I hear them drinking, laughing and throwing the bottles around. It is rather normal for me to hear everything on the roof at any time.

What is not normal to hear on the roof is what I could only consider to be a wonderful melody on a guitar. The twangs of her guitar made me rattle my brain to try to imagine what song those notes dare came from to be played by such a beautiful sounding guitar. Racking my brain, I couldn't imagine a single song with the same notes, the same pattern; my thoughts rattled with ideas of the ideas behind the twanging strings but never I could feel when the song came from. My mind, as I rolled out of bed, finally made the decision is that it's an entirely new song. Flipping open my phone, I saw the day, the time and everything under the sun. I wondered who on earth could be playing on the roof at seven in the morning on a Saturday. As I pulled on a bra, panties, and a set of comfortable clothes. The kind you could wear inside and slouch all day but if you left the house, you somehow felt you were underdressed in the prying eyes of the public. Even if you are sitting in the fast food place that rivalled entire nations in criminal activity, these were the clothes you would still feel underdressed in.

As I threw those clothes on, I thought about what person was up there. I have to admit, at first I thought it was some hipster wannabe, thinking he was John Lennon and Martin Luther King Junior all rolled into one. I had a few small fantasy as I opened up my apartment door of smacking a stereotypical hipster with his acoustic guitar covered in bumper stickers and political slogans. Climbing the stairs up to the the little room that held the ladder to the roof, I heard her voice for the first time. A beautiful soothing voice, the voice of, as I've said before, an angel. She was truly beautiful to hear, her voice sung of beautiful poetry and wonderful tunes. It was like hearing a person talk about something they were truly passionate about. Yet, it was more than that. It was like hearing someone sing about something they were passionate about, if they had the voice box of a temptress. It was like a siren without the ill effects of meeting one.

Climbing up the ladder, I pushed open the hatch and stared out. There, sitting cross legged, staring out at the rising sun, was a very beautiful girl. I know that sounds awkward, like how what a teenage boy would write in his journal, because they can't say diary, about the girl that got a crush on. Yet, I can't describe her anymore perfectly because I think I might confuse anyone with my description. All I can really say is that she had hair going down to her back, it curled in beautiful spirals, and it picked up the rising sun like it was an art structure that was made exactly for that purpose. An art piece that was made for the beautiful purpose of shining the sunlight in a specific way. She was sitting there, playing the beautiful music and singing to herself. Well, she thought she was singing to herself.

I couldn't understand a word she was saying. At the time it was in a language I couldn't understand, yet, when paired with that guitar, was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. I felt like it was like hearing music for the first time in your life. Imagining living two decades of your life with no music, no elevator music, and then, out of nowhere, you hear the most beautiful music ever. To hear the Mozart's Ode of Joy for the first time. She had a beautiful voice that seemed to infect my soul. From the ladder, I called to her. I didn't really know what to say, so I said; "Do you play the guitar?". The most awkward thing I could have ever said as a first impression. She said "I do".

The exact same thing I said to her and the priest today.

Abraham Lincoln Robot short story about art

September 14th, 2016

Abraham Lincoln Robot short story about art

Robotic Abe Lincoln short story about art

Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.


I, however, was an Abe Lincoln in a strange children’s restaurant. You have to admit, what children is going to want to hear presidential speeches over pizza? Some apparently. I remember that there were even a few kids that looked excited to see George W. Bush talk and talk about “The Pet Goat” to the point where the cassette tapes inside his brain were wearing down. There was every president in this strange Chuck E. Cheese knock-off. There was even George Washington. He got a lot more love than the rest of us, he was treated a bit like a celebrity. George even got a pose, he was like a warrior with his sword and his Star Spangled Banner cape. He got regular maintenance, so he always looked perfect. His face was regularly painted white and he always looked on top of his game.


His voice, unlike the rest of ours, was still crisp perfect. His tapes never skipped, they never burned out, and were always just perfect. He must have been getting regular replacements for months, if not weeks. Every president, from Hoover to the recently constructed Obama, hated the guy. He always, when the lights went out, would go on and on about how the kids all loved him. Have you ever met a person who you just didn’t like immediately as soon as you saw them? That was George Washington. He had this face that you just hated immediately and you are trying to find a reason to hate him because you don’t actually have one. I developed my reason from years of staring at him but the first time I could see, I just remember having him on sight. The reason I hated him is because when everyone left and the last minimum wage earning teenager locked and bolted the doors, there wasn’t even a minute silence. He just immediately starts chatting and talking and will not shut up. I think I might have made a list in my head at one point to why I hate him.


He just always talked about how much kids loved him, constantly. It was like the only thing he cared about was that he had these snot-filled fans that would treat him like he was a god and they were meant to bring sacrifices to the great George Washington. No one cared when he spoke, no one bothered to correct him when he said he got more visitors than anyone, and no one dare mention anything that he would take offence to. I remember Roosevelt once exploded at him, telling him to, and I quote, “finally shut up about the bags of disease that stare at him from glazed over eyes”. When the acne-infested teenager walked through the doors, they thought one of the local teenagers had took an ax to Roosevelt's head. His face was completely torn open, his moustache hung down like a swinging pendulum. He was taken into the maintenance room and gave out a few days later. He was finally fixed up except for the long metallic scar along the back of his head. When the lights went out again, we all rushed to see the scar and look over Roosevelt. He looked safe enough, he didn’t sound it though. His voice and eyes were shaking, his pupils stared at my face as if he was scared of me. I asked him what was wrong and, before Roosevelt could answer, George Washington gave a tut. We all turned to him with scowls, muttering things under our breath. Breath we didn’t have but you know what I mean.


Washington declared us all cowards. Bush declared he was a coward and punched him in the jaw. Before it could escalate to a full on fight, Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan broke it up, holding the two presidents away from each other. They pinned the two attackers against the walls of the dirty Chuck E. Cheese knock off and whispered how the other president wasn’t worth it. I sighed and looked as my friends pushed each other against the walls and told them not to fight. I wanted to laugh really, I wanted to start bursting out in robotic, halting laughter at the hypocrisy of it all. A house divided against itself cannot stand. As they fought, I went behind the cashier desk and opened one of the “Staff Only” doors. Grabbing the lost and found box, I looked around inside it. I found a yellow scarf and wrapped it around my neck. A window, left open, fluttered in. The wind picked up the scarf and made it dance with it. I closed my eyes and jumped. The window broke open as I fell onto the street corner and the burglar alarm blared within the pizzeria. I didn’t care anymore, I didn’t care that the alarms were going off or that my friends would wonder where I was, I was free. I was out of where I had been forever and a day.


I started running down the street as I heard sirens. Then, I never stopped running.

Chicago Artist MendyZ Creates Stunning Works of Art of the Chicago Skyline

June 21st, 2013

Chicago Artist MendyZ Creates Stunning Works of Art of the Chicago Skyline

Chicago Artist MendyZ Creates Stunning Works of Art of the Chicago Skyline



There are only a handful of large cities like New York, Los Angeles or Miami that can boast an interesting and uniquely original skyline. But Chicago takes the cake. Chicago is a work of art. It has been called a more cleaner New York with all the best features crammed into a smaller area. Chicago is gorgeous and original. It has the hustle and bustle of a large grand city, but the friendship and kindness of a small town. There is politics, and culture, and things that attract a worldwide audience such as the work of art affectionately called the bean. It takes a special artist to grasp what the skyline has to offer and instill it within a medium. The Chicago artist MendyZ has worked on this in numerous series of his works. He has captured Chicago on paper, canvas, sculptural, intaglio, serigraph, in oil, and acrylic. He has been called an upcoming modern master. But his latest works are sculptural works of art on canvas. They are both anchored and weightily while appearing light and lofty. This is definitely what Chicago likes to do as well. That is be intense and full of substance while being a light and airy city of love, aesthetic, and balance.

Chicago has been around for over 100 years in it's present form. It has been an innovator and pushed the architectural envelop within the realm of skyscrapers. It is easy to grasp this by simply looking at the skyline from afar. The aesthetic intensity of this amazing string of buildings work together just as a canvas to hold the picture of our city in its entirety. Of course Chicago has had the tallest worldwide building for over 25 years and still holds that title nationwide. The Sears Tower (also called the Willis Tower in recent years), and the newer Trump tower help keep us nationally ranked for pushing the limits of the sky.

But don't let those two keep you entertained within our gorgeous city, we also have the John Hancock, Aon Tower, and the Prudential Plaza building which help us maintain an amazing skyline to paint and recreate on canvas as original works of art. Chicago has this deep inherent aesthetic quality that generates the perfect composition on canvas. It makes the artist job easier, and allows MendyZ to work on the hard intangible task of infusing a sense of wonder and self within the artwork. If you look at the recent works of the artist MendyZ you will notice that the artist has taken advantage of the clusters of buildings and the general incline and ebb and flow of the coast. In general the city of Chicago is notable for having a well-organized &consistently balanced and beautiful skyline.

The Chicago galleries are filled with Chicago artists like MendyZ that have created wonderful works of art of from the architecture of the city. You can recreate a photo by going to the Adler Planetarium which is south of the loop, Michigan Avenue, and Millennium Park with the Bean on one of the most eastern point of the city behind the Shedd Aquarium. Or you can head north to the Beaches near Boystown and Lakeview and Lincoln Park and take a view of Lake Shore Drive looking south towards the John Hancock Center and Drake Hotel. Either way by creating a photo of yourself you can enhance and personalize the artwork you purchase from the artist MendyZ. They will hand cohesively on your wall together and raise lots of conversations in the years to come.

Artist paintings of Chicago' skyline can be easily found but the key is discovering artists like MendyZ that can not only recreate the skyline but also infuse it with a sense of oneness with the artist. There are many fine artists, and each has their own unique and fantastically creative style that offer the art connoisseur a wide choice of original artwork to select from. Never was there a better city to buy paintings of than Chicago!

If you are coming to visit the city be sure to stop by the gallery.

If you live in the city please subscribe for amazing deals, upcoming events, and special lectures by the artist MendyZ. Click Here


If you are limited in time be sure to drop us a message and we will coordinate a private viewing time of all the Chicago Art Series' by MendyZ. Click here.


Sincerely hoping that you enjoy the great city of Chicago,

MendyZ

Chicago Medical Group Purchases MendyZ Paintings The group buys two lobby-sized paintings from the MendyZ medical research art series

June 20th, 2013

Chicago Medical Group Purchases MendyZ Paintings  The group buys two lobby-sized paintings from the MendyZ medical research art series

Press Releases MendyZ View Press Release

Chicago Medical Group Purchases MendyZ Paintings

The group buys two lobby-sized paintings from the MendyZ medical research art series



Chicago, IL -- (SBWIRE) -- 06/20/2013 -- The MendyZ paintings on medical research have been gaining popularity and the art series is drawing attention from medical quarters. The Chicago Hospital Clinic and the Physician Medical Group have bought two paintings from the MendyZ art series related to medical research. The paintings are reported to be huge and lobby sized in the order of 6 X 8 feet or more. The research oriented art series related to medicine has grown now to have many paintings in various sizes and styles drawing inspiration from various clinical medical fields.

The art series developed by the artist MendyZ is rated to be successful from the popularity it has managed to achieve as well as the unique perspective of the artist. The artist takes complex scientific ideas an distiles them to a single viewpoint that adds to the medical issue at hand and makes it accessible for everyone. The research related art series compiled and developed by the artist MendyZ, a fine art artist with Exclusive Canvas Art, a Chicago art gallery, will be put on display for exhibition. The more recent upcoming exhibition named Prisoners: Mind, Body and Soul will feature a collection of rare art works from MendyZ series. The exhibition is set to feature only a few of the research related art works as these are rare and not all of them are available.

The famous paintings from MendyZ such as the Digitalis Purpurea also known as Common Foxglove and CD4+ Antigens are sold out and are unavailable for display at this exhibition as consignment procurement is complex internationally where these were purchased. The more recent paintings have been sold to Northwestern Cardiac Research Central Division. The additional research related art works are to be featured in the exhibitions set to be organized in midsummer. The display of the additional art works is to be hosted by Exclusive Canvas Art, an art gallery in Chicago, which the artist MendyZ is associated with, and at the exhibition Prisoners: Mind, Body and Soul.

The show is set to feature about 200 original works from the artist. “The show will have well over 200 original works in a diverse and prolific array of styles and mediums sure to excite collectors ranging from the very tiny 6 inches by 8 inches to a soaring 6 by 8 feet high”, say the organizers of the event. The organizers have arranged for private viewing of the art as well just west of downtown Chicago. This rare and private opportunity with the artist can be yours by contacting the new art studio of MendyZ in Chicago.

For further details on MendyZ art works log on to http://www.MendyZ.com or contact the gallery for a catalog of the most recent works.

About MendyZ
MendyZ is a fine art artist at the Exclusive Canvas Art Gallery based in Chicago. He is into research related art works in the field of medicine. His subject matter is not limited to medicine as can be seen in his latest Chicago series, Prisoners series, and sculptural textural abstracts on canvas. MendyZ’s work is prolific, diverse, and sure to delight. His works span a vast array of mediums, from oil, acrylic, intaglio printmaking on paper, serigraphs, monoprints, lithographs, sculptural in clay and metals, and others.

Media Contact
Mendy Zimmerman
MendyZ Chicago Art Studio
222 N Maplewood Chicago Illinois 60612
Tel: 847-693-7847
Email: MendyZ@ExclusiveCanvasArt.com
http://www.ExclusiveCanvasArt.com and
http://www.MendyZ.com

 

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