Roses have always been symbolic to me. Some give them as gifts. We see them at weddings; funerals.
I’m sharing an older, more simple design today that some of you may have already seen if you follow any of my “Daydreams” accounts on social media.
I share this in memory of my late father, for Father’s Day. & Also for my Uncle Pat, who passed away in January. My great uncle was another one of the amazing father figures I’ve been blessed with in this life.
I miss them both terribly, but they’ve made me realize just how lucky I am to still have some special men in my life that hold the title of “father” in more way than one.
“Your beloved Daydreams isn’t here right now. She appears to be…all tied up. I just may get cozy here. Yes, yes…I could get used to this.”
“When I came to my head was throbbing. Didn’t quite know what to make of it all. I was frightened—and cold. She was no longer here. Maybe that protection spell I cast on the gates finally took. I’m sure it won’t ward her off for long, though.”
We were not so sure about doing this whole thing again this year. There is a whole fresh hell of a lot going on behind the scenes. These circumstances have made it difficult on this trip. I apologize for not keeping up our tradition of ending this thing with a video. Some personal matters kept that footage from ever being shot & uploaded.
Despite those somber notes, we hope you had fun through each of the 31 days and nights. Will we do this again next year? Well, you’ve managed to talk me into it each year again since we started back in 2015. We shall just have to wait and see.
On behalf of Snapping Turtle Arts, I would like to thank Dean Kealy, Michael Patrick, and Bill Friday for joining us and lending their magnificent talents.
To the horror lovers here and overseas
We are so appreciative of all of you. Thank you for stopping in on each day! None of this would have gone down this year without your loving support and encouragement!
To my mentors
I saw you here lurking about. 😉 It means the world to me and my little family that some of you still care. We’ll try to put on a bigger show if we go at this thing again next year.
To our friends and family
Thank you for holding our hands when times get rough.
Due to reader demand and all of the lovely, kind-hearted words received afterward, it became clear that the series would return this year. Wes was one of the main forces that inspired me to write at a young age. He was also one of the reasons I began specializing in the horror genre at times.
This year, with those thoughts in mind, we will also be dedicating the series to another gifted horror writer and artist and sharing these projects in their collective memory. That writer just so happened to be a good friend of mine. He was driven by the pen as Grayson Queen, but a lucky number of people knew him as Dave. Some of you that read here had the pleasure of knowing his undeniable gift for horror writing. We wanted to honor Grayson last year as well, although the wounds from losing such a profound piece of what has become a family in many ways—were still withered raw.
We will honor these masters of horror and carry on what we all do best. They live on through this art.
Happy October, everyone and welcome to Day 1!
This piece was designed as wall art and inspired by one of my most terrifying of recent nightmares. Have you ever traveled to a place in reality only to return to a warped version of it in your sleep? This is exactly the inspiration behind this surrealistic twist on the strange figure that showed up along the side of a road lined by woods close by a place I actually visited.
There was a dense mist that waltzed around with the cold air that made my bones ache. There was a sensation of the cold in the dream itself. That figure drew closer. I awoke before getting a clear look at its face. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t human since it appeared about ten feet tall and thinner than any living human I’d ever seen.
A few nights back I had a strange dream. As I laid out the groundwork for this artwork pictured above in my head, I slowly drifted off to sleep. My mind traveled back to a place I hadn’t been in a very long time. Rows upon rows of white wildflowers all dancing simultaneously in the night breeze.
This was an actual early evening once in my life that took place many moons ago when my father was still alive. I faintly remember the sound of the radio softly playing some soothing little tune. She’d been in the doctor’s office building just beneath the hill we stared at, so we waited patiently in the car. My mom always did have a habit of taking forever. She was a friendly chatterbox and had to greet just about everyone.
After waiting for well over an hour, we stepped out to stretch our legs and yawn. I remember the sweet smell of the wild flowers in the air.
The warm, nightly, summer breeze that had been happening that year seemed to kick it all around. My father and I ran through the flowers for a good twenty minutes until my mother appeared.
That small moment in time was one of the happiest moments I had with my father.
That day still replays in my dreams at times and it inspired this artwork.
Happy Father’s Day
to all of the fathers out there, to those who have lost fathers, to those who are new fathers, and those who are fathers of fathers. You are all so special to us.