"September 10, 2019

"September 10, 2019

My name is Victoria Winters.

I'm on my way. A few hours by train from Bangor to Collinsport. Then pickup at the train station by the housekeeper, whom I've never met and who has never met me. Sure hope I don't get kidnapped....

This place seems nice, so far. Lots of trees, and rocks, and rain. Not so different from Boston, really. I haven't heard from Mrs. Collins-Stoddard since she sent my itinerary - I'm going to be optimistic and say she's just waiting for me to arrive, and this isn't a Taken situation.

This is a bad idea. I know this is a bad idea. But that feeling is still there. There's something important about Collinsport. Something to do with my history, where I came from. The draw I feel to this town I've never heard of before is stronger than my common sense, I guess. I hope it's enough to keep me safe."

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A day late, but that's okay! For the month of October, I'm gonna be doing 1 small, QUICK illustration a day for a very short and spooky story I wrote. 🙃 It's a fanfic, modern day re-imagining of the first part of Dark Shadows, the horror-themed Gothic soap opera that originally aired in the 1960s that I've been low-key obsessed with for a few years. It's Darktober! Hope you enjoy.

YOU CANNOT SELF-FLAGELLATE YOUR WAY INTO EXCELLENCE

There are a lot of posts about SoCal skater fashion, I figured it would be fun to show some Glasgow skater. Even though I'm from California. But like. I learned to skate in Glasgow. So.

Currently cold, windy, and alternating between wet or icy. Skating is fun, with an added thrill of serious bodily harm.

From a year ago, during that time I was by myself in Scotland taking care of a puppy and two cats and suddenly got super sick, but didn't know it was COVID until I turned over on my bed and realized that there was a giant pile of dog poop right there by my mattress and I could not smell it. I did not regain my sense of smell or taste for roughly two months. Not as bad as others have experienced, but not fun. I couldn't even enjoy my beloved Ben&Jerry's.

"I Died Today: A Valentine's Day Greeting" by L.K. Blackham on INPRNT

Hey, guys! Valentine's Day looms over us like a giant pink balrog, and what better way to appease the beast than to give a quirky, cool card that I bet no one else has seen and/or gotten and will surely remember forever? That's right, I've got a sexy, sexy card in stock here that is currently ON SALE! It's drawn by me, for you, each line infused with love and morbid bewilderment, printed by the patron saints of quirky holiday cards over at INPRNT. It features a depiction of the beloved patron saint of affianced couples, beekeepers, happy marriages, love, the mentally ill, plague, and epilepsy! Yes, it's true, Saint Valentine does more than just help the lovey dovey couples out there - he also wants to make sure you're practicing good mental self care and taking your medications regularly. Your relationship to your partner is important, sure, but what about your relationship.... with *yourself*?

The Wikipedia article also says he's the patron saint "against fainting", so I guess just avoid doing that on his saint's day. Be chill.

Man, the more I learn about this man the more I think I love him. Celebrate Valentine's Day and help support a poor indie artist/grad student! (That's me. I'm the poor artist.)

Darktober 6

"... Bridget led me away from the big grand entry at the front of the mansion, to a smaller section around the back by the garage, with a very nice but significantly less grandiose entry door. "Guest house, originally," Bridget told me. "Mrs. Elizabeth likes it better here than in the main house. Can't say I blame her." She rang an old-fashioned bell by the doorway. I heard a distant "Come in!" from inside. Bridget obliged, and I followed.

We came into a little entry room (I think they call it a foyer?), paved with old tile covered with a large and covertly weatherproof rug. There was an old stairway on one side, and a large set of wooden double doors in the wall facing the entry. Lining the walls were portraits - portraits of the Collins family, I can only assume. Some were newer, clearly from the last century, and others were far, far older. They all shared the same dark hair and eyes (with only one or two exceptions), and a general air of grave regality - like they were going off to war right after their portrait sitting or something. It was so strange to just casually walk near them like they were just everyday house decorations, and not original historical pieces of art that belonged at the Louvre.

Bridget left my suitcase at the stairway, going to knock on the double doors.

"For heaven's sake, Bridget, why are you being so polite? Come barge in like you always do, you're giving the poor girl strange ideas about us."

Bridget grinned, opening the door.

Behind them lay a disarmingly cozy living-room. It looked nothing like the rest of the house, except for the stonework floors. Plush rugs, old but cushy-looking furniture, modern family photos now occupying wall space instead of regally painted portraits. At the center of it all was a large fireplace with a carved mantle, and before the fireplace...

....stood a woman. A petite, dark-haired woman, wearing plain, comfortable clothes, holding a steaming mug of bergamot tea that filled the room with its bright scent. She looked to be somewhere in her mid-forties, lines creasing her tanned face, eyes a deep, cool green. She was a good foot shorter than me, but there was something in the way she held herself as she turned to look at me with those calm, cool eyes that made me immediately stand up as straight as I could, ready to obey orders, listen to every word she had to say.

She locked eyes with me, and her cool expression immediately cracked into the sweetest, warmest smile I had ever seen. "Welcome to Collinwood, Victoria." she said. "I'm so glad you're here. I'm Elizabeth Collins."