Heather Shilling

For my final book I plan on making a 20 page (including front and back covers) short story that is mostly text with little drawings on each page to help illustrate. After the front cover, page one will be narrative while page two on the opposing page will be text of what is going on within the narrator's mind. Each page will have a small drawing incorporated into the text. I did not need to do much research for this project since it takes place in SW Texas (where I'm from) and I'm mostly using illustration of stuff from my own head along with references from photographs I've taken over the years. The short story is a very condensed version I've rewritten from a much longer short story I wrote a few years ago which is about 35 standard Word pages. I'm thinking I'm gonna do 30 scanned copies and each page will be half the size of an 8.5 X 11 inch letter paper. I'm doing this project because I like grit and nastiness and the story is supposed to be funny but also disturbing since it is about a child turning into a serial killer. Which is a theme I write about often: I am actually working on a novel right now that is entirely about this. I am currently working on the illustrations for my final book but I would love to get feedback on the written material I have finished. Below is the written part and in parentheses is a short description of what the illustration is for each page. I would really appreciate any advice or negative/positive critique! Thanks so much fellas! (Also I am finishing up my Zippos, hopefully tomorrow so I'll post pictures of the finished product before class and bring them in on Friday.) See you then!

Front cover: Blood Red: 20 pages total (Texas scenery – brush country)

Page 1 (penny on tracks)

“Now?”

“No.”

His hands were twitching next to his sides as he bounced on his heels.

“Now?”

“No. Shut up.”  

They watched the train get closer as it rumbled down the tracks.

“Lou I’m freakin out. When?”

“When I say.”

The ground began to vibrate and the northbound freight came closer, horn screaming.

“Now.”

Mickey placed his penny beside Lou’s on the track. Lou snatched his shirt collar, throwing them both aside as the train roared past.

Page 2 (bloody sleeping bag)

Smores had it comin. Told them to put the damn dog outside when I was over. It didn’t like me. Half Boxer, half Pitbull. A mean son-of-a-bitch. It attacked me in my sleep. I trapped the dog up in my sleepin bag. Easy goin after that, draggin it outside. Nobody heard a thing when I began slammin the bag into the stone porch steps. Lost a new friend the next morning when they found the body.

Page 3 (red dust cloud)

“Holy shit,” Mickey hollered, not quite loud enough to be heard over the train. The blood red dirt was like a cloud as the train beat the tracks and hot air blew out from beneath.

Lou turned to see two boys running to them, a red mist as they scuffed up the sun baked earth. Mickey slapped Lou on the back as they watched the train go by. Billy beamed as he dropped his backpack and wiped the rusty sweat from his brow and upper lip.

“They stay on the track?”

“Looks like, I don’t see em anywhere,” Lou looked around.

Pennies had to be placed at the last moment so they don’t bounce off before the train can pass over. A dangerous game, one sure to get any of them a whooping from their parents if discovered. 

Page 4 (pot with steam)

I didn’t understand why they were pissed. The cat was dead when I found it, barely starting to decay. The smell was awful, I’ll admit. I kept telling Momma, “I’ll clean out the pot, I swear. You won’t tell the difference.” Daddy had a strange look when he took the lid off the pot. The cat boiled perfectly, all the skin and flesh floating on the top. Only skeleton remained. They just kept staring.

Page 5 (flattened penny and bottle)

The train was gone. Cody picked his nose excitedly as Billy plucked the flattened coppers from the tracks. He tossed one to Mickey, smiling, the other went in the pocket of Lou’s overalls. It was Mickey’s first time, being the youngest.

“Whiskey?” Billy unzipped a bottled of Jack from his bag. “I brought a little somethin to celebrate Mickey’s day properly.”

Page 6 (G.I. Joes and glasses)

James Lee could be such a dick. No surprise when my parents told me I laid him out with a 1X4” bit of lumber. He hit his knees and fell forward, unconscious. I was two. Why? Wouldn’t let me play with him and his G.I. Joes. The “talks” started soon after. When I was three I stabbed James Lee in the eye with a straw. He has glasses now. There wasn’t a reason for it.

Page 7 (train)

“You steal that from your Pappy?” Cody, astounded, removed the finger in his nose.

“Nah you kiddin?”

“Uncle Ray then?” Cody wiped the snot on Mickey’s shirt.

“Nope, snuck it from Jim Bob’s trailer.”

Cody stopped midwipe and Lou nearly dropped the bottle.

“He ain’t never gonna know it was me. He’ll think it was Dwight did it.”

Mickey’s face twisted with liquor as he quickly passed the Jack, “Dwight’s gonna know it was one of us.”

“How’s that Mic?” Lou asked.

“We’re always takin shit from people. Creepy crawlin around town and shit.”

Billy was getting flustered, “Coulda been anyone.”

Mickey looked at Lou, “He’ll think it was you, cuz.”

Page 8 (barn with open door)

This cat attacked Katie, scratched her little face. Snatched it before it could run off. Momma took Katie inside to calm her cries. I took the cat to the barn with James Lee. I held it by the scruff so it couldn’t fight. Dunked it in a barrel of water and threw it at our meanest Quarter Horse, Doc Holliday. He kicked the cat to the wall as James Lee hollered with laughter. Daddy walked in and spoiled the fun.

Page 9 (cans of gasoline)

Billy grimaced and passed the bottle to Cody, “The Jack will be long gone so there won’t be no proof.”

Cody tried to hide a gag, “Where should we go to drink this?”

Lou grabbed the bottle, “Ya’ll still got those cans of gas?”

Cody smiled.

“Good. Go grab em. Billy, get some matches. Mickey, come with me. Meet us in the brush about a quarter mile out back of my house.”

Flushed faces stumbled in separate directions, Billy clutching the precious whiskey.

Page 10 (rifle and bullets)

I worried my cheek, drawing blood, clenching my hands in my overalls. Daddy had his rifle on his shoulder, walking several yards away. “Can’t I just get a whoopin?” I tried. He hid his smile, “Don’t move.” I’d gone and put him over the edge, throwing the cat at the horse. He was gonna shoot me. Fuckin cat. The gun exploded. My ears were ringing as bits of dirt and cat hit my leg. He walked back to me. My hands were shaking in my pockets, gripping my thighs enough to bruise. He got to his knees. “The cruelty needs to stop. It’s sick.” I stared back.

Page 11 (prison with red dust)

As the boys ran off, Lou spotted a familiar head dart behind a tree near the tracks. Only a little of his face was visible but it was enough. Dwight would try to punish them for Billy’s mischief. They’d never gotten along.

Mickey kicked up dirt, watching it settle onto his jeans like blood misting on cotton. They glanced up at the jailhouse as they passed. It was bigger than the school. The dirt is rusted from all the blood that’s been spilt in town over the years. That’s what they say. Many gunfights and lynchings stained the ground. 

Page 12 (football and bloody rock)

I see his head disappear. Guess it wasn’t enough warning when I put a fork through his cheek in Sunday school. I duck under the brush, he doesn’t realize I’m watchin him. He hit me once and I slapped his face with a fat rock. His head snapped back on impact. He hit the ground. The football lay forgotten behind us. I put my knees to his chest, dropped the rock and brought the hard side of my hand down onto his face. His nose gave out and blood gushed between my fingers. They had to pull me off him in the end.

Page 13 (snake holes and matches)

Mickey and Lou snuck around the house, careful not to be seen through the windows as they took a can of gasoline from the shed. They lugged it with them into the brush country.

Didn’t take long for the other boys to show up. 

Billy pulled the Jack out of his pants, “Let’s drink first.”

The bottle was passed.

Lou pointed at the ground, “Three snake holes.”

The gas was poured into the holes, the red swallowed up every drop. The empty cans were tossed.

Their eyes glittered.

Page 14 (hog parts)

Daddy wouldn’t take me hunting with him and James Lee. Said I was too little. They brought home a wild hog. Cut free the head, hooves, tail and genitalia. Daddy saw me watching, told me to take them to the trash. When he caught me playin with em, he picked me up by the collar and shook hard. If he’d just let me go with him, I wouldn’t have needed to play with parts.

Page 15 (brush and setting sun)

Billy lit a match for each. They held the little torches above the holes with greedy fingers. As one, they dropped the matches and scurried backward. The sticks disappeared into the gaping mouths. A  throb went through the earth and they toppled over. Great clumps of dirt blood clots erupted into the air. All whooped and hollered, clothes smeared with red. Lou took a swig of Jack and breathed out the burn, sighing in triumph.

“Louie!” a furious voice disturbed the settling dirt.

Lou nearly dropped the bottle.

“You get your ass over here right now!”

Cody crowed, “She gonna tell your Daddy. You’re in deep shit.” He ran into the brush.

Mickey looked up at Lou, “Should we run away, cuz?”

“I said right now!” the mother bellowed.

Page 16 (hanging deer with guts spilling)

I’m goin to Hell. The parents talk to me often. Fuzzy warmth don’t surface in me, jut hot red. It’s all forced. Starting to wear thin. It’s amusing, hearing Momma freak out like this. Dwight don’t realize I can see him in the brush. The other day I came home to find a butchered deer out back of the house. I was alone. Daddy caught me with my hands inside the ribcage. Pulling out chunks of blood and squashing them between my fingers. Organs and bones were warm and wet. He gave me that look.

Page 17 (the house in darkness)

“Naw, I’ll be fine.” The boys retreated into the brush as Lou stalked up to the house. Once in sight, Lou’s mother hollered, “An explosion! I can’t believe this. You smell like gas. Your father is gonna whip your ass when he gets home. Why do you smell like whiskey?”

Lou poked a tongue through a gap tooth and grinned.

“Where the hell did you get whiskey?”

“I found it Momma. Just picked it up.”

“Go wait in your room. I’m fixin to whoop you myself.”

Later, Daddy came to the door, belt buckle twinkling, “Ready Louise?”

Page 18 (the window with brush outside)

I watch the sky darken. He’ll be at my window soon, the dipshit is still hiding in the brush. The whoopin wasn’t so bad. Daddy was hiding a grin. Any minute now. Dwight can’t accept a little girl beating the shit out of him. We’ve never had a chance to really work out our feelings for each other. I can see him creepin. I know they’re there, the crooked nose, the four little scars on his cheek. Reminders of past encounters. He wants more and I’m gonna give it to him. I’m gonna make sure this time. No one will be around to pull me off him before I’m through. 

Back cover: (my information)

A lot has been going on in my life! I just got engaged to marry and I'm in the process of moving to a new apartment and about to graduate! Damn. My Zippo books (Edition 5, title Vice) aren't quite finished yet but I will post the finished product within the next week. I accomplished what I set out to do: make the little books within them and to make the Zippo covers but now I want to finish the inside parts of the "lighters." Here are some pictures of what I've accomplished so far.

Now, for my final book project I have rewritten a short story of mine and condensed it to about 1/10th of the original story (but with the same basic content). The written part just needs a little more editing and I'm going to include content-based illustrations that I'm making this week using watercolor with some acrylic paint over it. The story is about a group of four kids who do stupid shit and get into trouble, but it's mostly about a budding serial killer. The story is Southern Gothic-esque, gritty, weird, and blunt. I don't like a whole lot of fluff or filler stuff so it gets to the point pretty quickly. I don't require much research for this assignment because it's all stuff from my head and my life but I will be doing a bit of photo referencing from my own collection of photographs I've taken and my imagination. The book will be 20 pages total (including front and back covers) and will be approximately the same size as letter-sized paper folded in half but I haven't completely figured the size out yet. It all depends on the finished drawings. I am planning on printing it on Satin paper at the school, using full color images. Right now, I plan on making at least 30 copies, more if I can.