INK! Volume 3 Issue 2 Spring 2014 | Page 16

Instructions:

Titles and Student Names in: Aller (Titles Bold, Names Regular)

Article Text in: Chucaratext 20 pt

Caption Text in: Aller Italic, 16 pt

Use the provided color boxes to create background for title text when appropriate (each has a different level of transparency) by copying and pasting, then stretching as needed)

You can change the color on the left (think of using the dropper to match color to page art OR use the INK standard below.

Remember to consider space - can you use one page of a double page spread to have a full page gallery of art? Or spread one picture across a double page spread for a big impact?

With text, please stay within the established guides for space (Use the grid, and leave a 2 block "gutter."

Wrap text around photos to work with space when appropriate.

The couple is nearly to their small home when they are stopped by a withered old man. His skin hangs off his bones, when he breathes a patch of loose skin swells unnaturally between his collarbones. Emile holds her son tighter, just a small, innocent baby, her only thoughts are of her son. Don absent­mindly reaches out to touch the downy head of Alrekur, rubbing the small sphere with his thumb. This man surely wants to take their child. The way his wrinkled fingers dance in the air over Alrekur, Icelandic sayings tattooed on his palms; curses, blessings, promises, regrets. They hover, ghostlike, over the child. Emile imagined the hands alone as a demon, morphing into frightening shapes and seizing her one and only from her arms. The man’s mouth pulls back in a gummy snarl, and he grasps the baby by the throat. Emile begins screaming, and Don reels back his fist and punches the man in the nose. Knocking the bag of bones down to the dust. Emile clutches Alrekur to her chest, and he coos lovingly. In an eerie attempt at comfort, it seems. For a moment the storm in her mind clears and she is nothing but a body, feeling nothing but love for her baby. Not a single thought on how said baby bared sharp incisors at the man, or how Alrekur’s red eye sparkles more than the blue one. No one pays attention to the old man clutching his gushing nose, or how he mutters under his breath not one of his regrets, or one of his blessings, but a curse and and a promise to rid the village of the monster before he dies.

Down In The Village

While Everyday Monsters artist Chance Warren transferred back to Massabesic, he was a vital part of the arts community during his time at TA. INK is thrilled to publish this last series, which he submitted before he left. Good luck to Chance as he continues his art career!