Character Series: The Adventurs of SnakeMan Jones, by Samuel Bostick.
This is a new sort of writing experience and I feel like its off to a good start. This project actually originated as a collaboration piece with a student of mine who was often drawing these really fantastic monsters and such. I told him that I would write a story about the monsters he drew and this is the first of that run. On this past Saturday, I showed him the monster I had reworked and gave him a brief of the beginning of The Adventurs of SnakeMan Jones. After studying the piece and seeing the development of the collaboration, he gave his 2 thumbs up approval and said he likes where the character and story are headed. This has been a really exciting adventure and experiment. Enjoy it!
The Adventurs of SnakeMan Jones
A man of mystery—legend with no history; nobody knows from where he came nor the origin of such a fearsome frame. Early one morning he was seen, rolled in heavy and broke onto the scene. Thas what the people tell…
Moving with speed beyond comprehension
A chilling sight a cold body on that motorbike
Cutting through the fog, powered by an action of fury
Smooth locomotion. What is this beast?
A man, monster in stature, and His Bike moving over both land and sea—traverse any terrain. One of a kind partnership, built stacked with power and presence.
Widely respected, Deeply feared
A rebel with a particularity for justice…
On this particular day, he became fame. The sun rose orange in red as blood over the endless sea Azu-Blue. There was a ship, that housed a hoard of ruthless creatures that drifted from place to place appeasing their taste for treasure. They were known as The Gnomads; a collection of lost souls fated for doom. They were looking for trouble and they sure found it.
There in the Azu-Blue was a well known island town, StaggMooreFalls, a beautiful place: botanically lush, tropical colored birds and fish, wild dogs and boars, joyous inhabitants—a peaceful place booming with life. It was early spring and the streams and falls swelled with water. Freshly melted water pouring down from the mountains as the ice snow melted and winter washed away. This was the best time to be at StaggMooreFalls. The town was especially festive as the people prepped for the annual celebration known as the Full Bloom Festival. There was a flower, a poppy with pollen that was pure gold, and it was the one night in the year that the islands rare flower would open up under the full moon. This flower only grew on StaggMooreFalls and nowhere else in the world. This flower was said to have magic powers. That night they were going to make wishes and dance through the night around a grand campfire. Both the flower and the moon would be in full bloom, and that’s how the celebration got its name. It was a time to celebrate the year past and that one ahead. It was a carnival, a jubilee! The island was well known round those parts because the Full Bloom Festival had such a rich reputation.
Knowing that the town would be prepping for the celebration and preoccupied with their happiness, the Gnomads plotted to invade the island and loot all the treasures, food, and women. They were a rustic sort of scourge with simple craving for anything of value that could be stolen. It was the night before the Full Bloom Festival everyone on StaggMooreFalls was working hard, from the children to the elder folk, preparing for the carnival. The Gnomads slipped in, sailing under the nightfall, and hid out in a harbor cave.
Meanwhile, SnakeMan Jones was swinging loungely in his hammock on a small remote island off the North side of StaggMooreFalls. He was counting the stars, or trying to at least, with a jar of his favorite spirit in hand. Coat draped over the stake that held the hammock in position and boots dropped in the sand next to where he rest. Toes wiggling in the night’s cool breeze; he got tired of counting, his sight moved to the humble fire and right next to it was His Bike. With a quick swigg from the jugg, he admired it—His Bike—freshly detailed and waxed…he loved to spend time tending his few prized possessions. If he wasn’t shining the bike, he was conditioning the boots, or sharpening the sword blade, or polishing up his helmet. Softly lulled by the rhythmic rocking of the hammock in the wind, Jones dozed off…
A curious lizard scuttled over and lapped up a bit of the spirits that had splashed by the wayside onto a rock…tempted by the shine as the moon reflected into it, almost full. After there was no more liquid to lap there were only swaying tracks, zigg zagged in the sand to testify of the visitors taste for mischief.
With the passing of a few slow hours, the blood orange sun crested above the horizon and blazed onto the Azu-Blue. StaggMooreFalls woke extra early and conducted a grand breakfast feast, the Gnomads wiped the sleep from their eyes and rubbed their hands together with greedful intention on the rise, Snake Man Jones rolled off the hammock, threw his feet into the boots and laced them up. He grabbed his coat and sword then pulled his helmet down over his head as he jumped on His Bike—an easy start to a fateful day.
To be continued…
the LIFESTYLE’s role is to create collective space for active Reflection and Response through the arts. This space is built around dialogue, expression, collaboration, and artistic (ex)change involving international craftspeople and their realities. The Porch Swing series opens up a Reflection and Response residency where we feature a Collective member’s ongoing project through weekly installations.
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