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Cressida the golden bunny from another world

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:57 -0500

$18.00
Character Dimensions: 2" x 1.5" x 2"

Cressida practiced the ancient art of stillness. Complete and perfect silence swept through her body until her heart slowed, until the pause between each beat stretched on forever. Even the wind itself seemed to fall under her spell, and while the leaves gently rustled in the trees near by, not a single hair on her stirred. The winds choosing to detour around her. An admiral and no doubt enviable skill to earthbound bunnies. Enviable if they knew of Cressida, but they did not.
Just a few feet away they nibbled on green grasses and tender plants. Noses twitching, eyes darting about. Instinctively nervous, as earthbound bunnies tend to be, completely unaware of her presence.
Cressida watched them. The shadows of the bush hid her golden fur. Her utter stillness gave nothing away. She was a visitor, a watcher only. Here to satisfy her curiosity just as her brothers had. To see the ones who were like them but not.
She hadn't believed it at first. The wild tales strung out over evening meals under the glowing light of Jaluna and Karunty, the full moons over head.
Tales about beings just like themselves in appearance but in every other way they differed.
"How do they travel if not by portals then?" Cressida had demanded of her older brothers. Unbelieving. "How could they go to the other worlds?"
Her brothers had laughed and Alamar, the eldest, had leaned close whispering, "They don't." Shocking news to Cressida's slim ears, but if those words had stunned her the next had been almost impossible to imagine. "They can't."
Can't? Rabbits who did not open inter dimensional golden rifts in space to freely travel amongst the worlds? For sure it had to be a joke.
And yet, Cressida knew in her heart as she watched the antics of the young earthbound rabbits, hopping and dancing about, she knew it was not. They were different. They did not speak as she and her family did, their needs seemed more basic. Food and fun and safety.
Cressida wondered at such a life. She hoped they had joy. Thinking of the lovely gilded galleries of art back home. The night symphonies, the merry games and banquets to feast on food and conversation. She hoped they shared that at least, that more than a mirror image they shared joy in life.
Tucked, as still as a statue in the grass, Cressida filled her eyes and senses with the simple life of the ones who looked like her but were different. Until the bunnies slipped away, startled by the lonely call of an owl and Cressida sighed. Finally stirring, it was time to return home.
As the golden light flooded from the rift she opened, Cressida took a last look at the empty clearing where the bunnies had played. Her ears twitched and a giggle escaped before she could hush herself. A stray thought had tickled her fancy. She wondered if......if there were even others, like herself ,who came creeping into her world and watched her kind from afar as she did here tonight? Guardians of knowledge her world had not yet gained....
Smiling, Cressida hopped through the rift, the soft lights of home leading the way.

Character Dimensions: 2" x 1.5" x 2"

Solange the Meerkat

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:57 -0500

$25.00
Character Dimensions: 3" x 1.5" x 3"

It is not often that I stumble across renegade sunbathers in my yard. For one thing I have no grass and I have yet to meet a non-reptilian sun bather who enjoys stretching out across a layer of cacti. If it were not for the lizards who routinely lay themselves out happily on every available surface, including the cacti sometimes, I would have said no renegade, trespassing sunbathers have been stumbled over to date.
So imagine my surprise, my gasp of breath drawn in quick and sharp enough to make a Soap Opera star jealous, when I meandered about the side of the house and found one. A renegade, trespassing, most definitely NOT reptilian sunbather, in my backyard.
Sitting as calm and relaxed as you please in the patch of rocky yard that had the most exposure to hot southern california sun was the sun bather.
Thoughts of SPF, privacy invasion, tans and burns, trespassing and curiosity warred within me. I was at a loss as to which issue to address first but as my startled pulse settled, the sun bather turned and eyed me with a gentle curiosity shining from deep dark eyes, and I realized our language barrier was the first hurdle. Coming before even righteous indignation and lectures about property boundaries.
I don't speak Meerkat.
It's not that I haven't watched enough nature shows that I couldn't give it a good try but I had also watched my fair share of science fiction television where a simple butchering and misunderstanding of the language could result in disastrous consequences. One mis-use of a single Meerkat sound and I might inadvertently start a war between my kind and Meerkat kind. Of course I thought of THAT after the fact and what actually happened within 5 seconds of me stumbling across a sunbathing Meerkat was me chirping and peeping and chittering in my best nature show learned Meerkat imitation.
She froze, not even the golden fur covering her body seemed to move in the air that stirred from the breezes that meandered through the back yard. I stopped chirping, feeling oddly foolish. And I saw, impossibly one brow lift higher in an incredibly human look of incredulity before she laughed.
My eyes bulged, mouth dropped open, listening in shock at the laugh shaking the body of the Meerkat.
"Y-y-you're laughing!" I accused, still feeling a little foolish.
I did not expect an answer, but I got one.
"And you're not speaking Meerkat!" She shot back so fast her words hit me like a physical force, I stumbled under their weight and sank to her eye level on the warm dirt.
Delight now overtook the pure shock. Not only a renegade, trespassing, non-reptilian Meerkat but a talking one at that!
"Well, are you sure?" I asked, before I'd had a chance to check the stupidity levels of my words. "Oh gee, well of course you're sure. Who'd know the Meerkat language better huh? You the Meerkat or me the human whose watched only a half dozen Meerkat nature programs?" She didn't say anything, only continued watching me steadily, her quietness only loosening my tongue further. "So, um not Meerkat huh? I could have sworn that's what I was doing, definitely what I was going for. So what was I speaking?"
The Meerkat tipped her face back to the hot sun and I swear I saw the corners of her mouth twitch in a smile before she casually answered, "It was a mix of Chicken, Lemur and I believe I heard a smattering of Monkey thrown in there."
It was not the hot afternoon sun making my face burn now. "Oooops!" I grinned, sheepishly, the only animal I hadn't imitated. "So what's your name, what brings you by, where are you from?"
The Meerkat chuckled again, leaning back slightly so the sun warmed her furry belly. She held her front paws daintily high, close to her chest. When she answered it was my turn to laugh. "Solange, the sun, Africa."
I edged closer to where Solange the Meerkat sunned herself amongst the rocks in my backyard, wanting a closer look at her golden fur. "Well Solange, lovely to meet you. I do not get many Meerkats around here, Africa being so far away and all. Hey....how'd YOU get here?"
Solange smiled, mysteriously. "I walked."
"You.....walked....?" I snorted. I couldn't help it, laughter barking out in an explosive noise.
Solange's head swiveled this way and that, surveying my back yard, perhaps my laughter making her nervous of possible predators being alerted to our presence. I wondered if I should tell her the only predators I knew of nearby were the twins next door and they were 86 and only preyed on gossip and hard candies.
When she seemed to assure herself that all was well, Solange settled those dark eyes on me once more. And suddenly the thousand questions welling up inside me, everything I ever wanted to know about what goes on inside a Meerkat's life, took second place to just one very important one.
"Solange?"
"Yes?" She answered, unaware of the importance and weight of her very next words.
I rushed ahead, words spilling forth. "Solange are you gonna stay awhile and maybe have a Meerkat picnic with me this afternoon? Please? Pretty please? I have food!"
I held my breath.
Solange tipped her head back to face the sun and closed her eyes, absorbing the heat. "O.K."
"OHhhhhhh YEAH!" I hollered, un-caring of nosy neighbor twins. A Meerkat picnic, sounded like perfection for a sunny afternoon in Southern California.

Character Dimensions: 3" x 1.5" x 3"

Tillman the Muddy Pig

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:57 -0500

$25.00
MORE photos can be seen of Tillman at http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=pig_muddyteeth

Character Dimensions: 2.5 x 2.5 x 2.75

Tillman swore he'd never do it. He'd insisted, for as far back as he could remember, that rolling in the mud was for pigs.
"But you ARE a pig." His friends reminded him. Which Tillman couldn't argue, he might have been a pig but it didn't mean he had to act like one.
When his family chowed down on corn cobs and slop, insisting it was the most delicious thing they'd ever had Tillman would roll his eyes. He much preferred sussing out the tastiest and most delicate of field greens for a salad fit for a...well...a pig. But not just any pig, a pig like Tillman with discerning tastebuds.
When the family of pigs trotted out of their comfy little shed every morning to make the rounds in the pen, heaving their great big pig bodies against the wooden fence to scratch their backs they'd call out, "Tillman, come on over. The fence is feeling mighty fine this morning!" And Tillman swore if his eyes rolled any further they'd pop right out of his head and land in the dirt at his feet. When Tillman had an itch on his back he preferred to sit and meditate.
"To outthink an itch is the greatest accomplishment of pig thinking." He'd call out, trying not squirm. His family would then display their impressive talent for eye rolling.
But they got along well and if Tillman didn't act like a pig they still enjoyed his company. Even if it meant he insisted nobody wash their muddy snouts in the water bowl, and that every one should eat slower, and try to saunter instead of trot.
Life was grand. Albeit a little frustrating at times. There were days that Tillman felt his passionate lectures about the possibility of pigs walking upright fell upon deaf, floppy ears. The other hogs turned their snouts away to hide smiles when Tillman would practice. Thrusting his front hooves into the air, wobbling for a split second on just his two back feet until finnally falling back to reality and earth. He couldn't walk on two legs...yet. Just because he couldn't now didn't mean he couldn't forever.
"After all," he'd explain to the younger piglets who watched with curiosity, Tillman's many attempts to walk upright, "if the humans can do it, surely we, the superior swine species, can as well?"
The piglets would nod their heads in vigorous agreement, ears flapping, curly tails wagging with happiness. They didn't really understand everything Tillman prattled on about but they thought he was funny. And they liked that he'd grin sheepishly at them from the cloud of dust that arose every time his hooves hit the earth.
One particularly grey chilly morning, so early that the entire shed of pigs were still asleep. Cuddled together in big pink piles of pigginess. Snoring, sides heaving, tails and feet twitching as they dreamt sweet happy pig dreams about apple trees and sweet beets. Every one was asleep but Tillman, he couldn't sleep with all that racket. Not the snoring, he'd grown accustomed to the snuffles and oinks of his shed mates, why even the ones who squealed in their sleep didn't wake him up any more. But this morning was different. It had rained, particularly hard, rattling on the roof with such force that once he'd awakened he couldn't possibly fall back asleep. Instead, he watched as the pearly morning light chased away the clouds, filling the pig pen with soft muted colors, the shades of dawn. Listened to the slowing drips of rain, until they stopped altogether.
Hearing the all clear, Tillman stepped out of the shed. Breathing deep, the air smelled clean and freshly washed. In all his life he couldn't remember it ever having rained so hard before. The pig pen was full of giant puddles, the ground was dark, saturated with rain. Tillman thought it was the perfect time to practice some upright walking before the others awakened and he had the pen to himself. He pulled himself upright, teetering on his back feet, admiring the view around him that his new height afforded him. He took a teetering, wobbly step forward, then another. A grin broke out on his shiny pink face, excitement made his legs quiver but he held strong, his record was 2 steps, could today be the day? Would he walk 3?
He did. Tillman took that 3rd step with more pride and happiness than any pig has ever felt walking a single step before. For one brief perfect moment, chest swelled with pride, head thrown back to look up at the early morning sun, rain drops shimmering and sparkling on the trees around, Tillman was the happiest pig on the planet.
And then he fell.
"Ohhhhhhh noooooo!" Tillman cried out in shock as his wobbling legs finally gave way and pitched him to one side. Tillman fell with a terrific splash, mud flew up around him, spraying in every direction like a giant brown tidal wave. Tillman wasn't hurt, but he sat in open mouth shock, he who had always, always, always avoided the mud was now covered from snout to curly tail and back again with the muddiest mud of all time.
He blinked, and carefully pulled one leg out of the muck, feeling the wet earth sucking at his feet as if resisting the movement. It tickled.
In fact it tickled so much that Tillman snorted and lifted the other leg, feeling the same tickling sensation that had him snuffling back laughter.
Taking stock of the entire situation Tillman realized something else, something so shocking he blinked his eyes several times trying to understand the strange new sensations he was experiencing. The mud, it felt good!
In fact it felt so good that Tillman flopped backwards with another terrific splash, feeling the soft cool mud against his back, snorting in heaven as droplets of wet earth rained back down on him. It was more than good, it was bliss.
Tillman realized that he'd been so busy resisting all things pig that he might have missed out on some of the funner aspects of swine-y-ness. Like rolling in a sloppy muddy heap in the middle of the pig pen after a lovely summer rain.
Sitting up again, bracing himself to keep from slipping backwards, Tillman stared with surprise at the many grinning, snouty faces watching from the door of the shed. The entire pig family had seen his muddy revelation.
Tillman shrugged his shoulders and grinned back, calling out, "O.K., I was wrong about the mud!"
The family erupted into a chorus of delighted squeals and oinks, filling the pen with the sound of happy hogs. They rushed out, slopping through the mud, sending waves of it splattering over everyone. The younger piglets calling out, "MUD FIGHT!"
And as the muddy pink pile of pigs surged forward to where Tillman sat, for the first time in his piggy life, a mud fight not only didn't sound awful, it sounded like fun.

Character Dimensions: 2.5 x 2.5 x 2.75

Humbert, Half Bear, Half Faux Pas

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:56 -0500

$20.00
LOTS more photos of Humbert can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/bear_humbert.html

Character Dimensions in Inches: 1.5 x 1.5 x 3.25

"Errr, ummm... errrr-grrrr?" The bear stared at me, trying out what I imagined HE imagined was his most ferocious look.
Somewhere along this animal's life he'd obviously confused the classic "Who me?" look with a bear's patented "I'll eat your face off if you come one step closer." look.
I stepped closer.
The bear grinned, if possibly, even wider. Pearly white teeth in gleaming rows sparkled in the sunlight. Good hygiene, I like that in a mammal.
"Err...grrr?" He said again, with that same half hearted questioning tone.
"Are you sure?" I asked, grinning back, he wasn't the only one with good hygiene around these parts.
The bear blinked, glossy black eyes closely slowly as he processed my question, finally he tilted his head to the side, classic curiosity on his face before asking, "Sure? About what?"
I laughed, how could I not. "Are you sure you mean 'grrrr' cause, no offense, you didn't really sound like your heart was in it."
My words had a strange affect on the bear, it was if I'd let out the stiff air of manners and protocol, he slumped a little, shoulders loosening, entire body relaxing. "You caught me. I'm not really into the whole 'Grrr I'm a bear' sort of scene. My name's Humbert by the way. Acccck, see what I mean? I just introduced myself to a human. My Mother is probably having a furry fit somewhere. She has a sense about these things you know. Always seems to know when a bear faux-pas is being committed. So..errrrr....yeah, to summarize, I'm Humbert, half bear half faux-pas." He snorted, twitching his shiny, coal black nose, laughter seemed to just leak from him.
Wow, once you cracked this grinning bear with the barely there 'Grrrrr', the words never stopped. I smiled, not that I minded, I rather enjoyed a chatty mammal. Especially the half bear, half faux-pas sort who'd rather chat than chase me up a tree.
"Howdy there Humbert, pleased to meet you!" I wasn't about to let a bear out do me in the manners department. I held out a hand and took one of his large furry paws in the classic human style shake.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh so this is why you all do this." Humbert stared down with fascination at our paws...er....hands...er....our shake. "I always thought you fur-less bi-peds were just marking your territory, but it's a greeting! Brilliant!" Grinning again, Humbert's now familiar teeth sparkled in the light once more. "So much more pleasant than a growl!"
"Errr, grrrrrrr?" I said, trying out a bear greeting. It sounded even less effective coming from me, the fur-less bi-ped, than it had from the half bear, half faux pas, Humbert.
We snickered, sharing the humor, flashing our teeth at each other in dazzling smiles.
I was very pleased I'd met Humbert, and even more pleased that he was a chatty fellow eager to gab rather than the classic 'I'll eat your face off if you come one step closer.' sort.
Very glad.

LOTS more photos of Humbert can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/bear_humbert.html

Character Dimensions in Inches: 1.5 x 1.5 x 3.25

The wild Lemur

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:56 -0500

$25.00
Character Dimensions: 3" x 2" x 2.75"

I would imagine there are few things in this world more confusing than stumbling across a meditating lemur when one is not in a zoo, Madagascar or a dream.
And yet there he sat, a lemur.
I blinked my eyes and tried the cartoonish method of rubbing at them with my hands, sure that some speck of dust had conspired with the bright sun and an ordinary raccoon into tricking my senses. It couldn't be a lemur....it had to be a raccoon. But even after I reopened my eyes and met the sharp golden gaze of the seated creature I knew that one of us was wrong.
A lemur.....in my backyard, sitting in the brightest patch of sun, hand like paws resting comfortably on his furry knees as if he'd been there for some time. His black and white ringed tail curled casually over his shoulder like an elegant scarf that made me itch to grab hold of and see if it was as soft as it looked.
It was as my fingers flexed and my feet shuffled forward in an unconscious desire to pet a wild lemur that a new thought struck me. One that made me grin and chuckle and quietly question my sanity. Perhaps, considering the sunshine and heat reflecting off the grass, this lemur was a mirage.
Delighted at the prospect I launched from my semi frozen position and ran straight at the sitting lemur, whose eyes widened in shock, very un-mirage like. Who also emitted a sound not un-like one I would emit should a crazed woman run straight at me with mirage busting gleams in her eyes.
When his tail rose and flicked at me, in the most aggressive tail flicking manner you can imagine, I skidded to a halt. Grass stains smearing my sneakers, an involuntary "whoops" escaping my lips.
"Good golly, you're actually real?"
The lemur blinked rapidly and edged back a few cautious steps.
"Well how did you get here?"
I may not have the entire globe memorized but I was fairly certain Madagascar was a long ways off from my back yard. Not to mention the zoos all had those pesky fences and zoo security to monitor would be escapees.
Just the thought of that had me looking warily over my shoulder, half certain that a full squadron of, reflective sun glass wearing, net toting, bulked up, muscular zoo security folks were gonna come pouring over the fence to arrest me on suspicion of un-lawful lemur association.
My right eye started twitching. So did the lemur's.
I lowered my voice and whispered, "Are you on the run?"
The lemur's tail flicked again but he didn't answer other than to stand, stretching his strong legs, showing off his marvelous paws that look eeirly human.
I was shocked he walked upright, and resisted the urge to throw my arms around him for a quick hug, while he stood balanced on his giant feet, swaying ever so slightly.
Perhaps he sensed my intent, for even as I edged the tiniest bit closer his legs flexed and in the blink of a slightly bedazzled lemur loving eye he was airborne.
I would have sworn he was flying...had I not seen his take off. Legs thrusting against the grass, propelling him at the very least 20 feet in to the air, silvery grey arms outstretched to grasp hold of the tree he would have otherwise smacked into.
He clung to the tree for seconds only, before pushing away in another gravity defying jump towards the house and to my delight the roof.
I heard the thud, but cursed my lack of view.
For a moment I considered leaving my wild lemur interaction at that. A perfect moment in the backyard on a hot sunny day.
I walked towards the house, fully intending to return to the self appointed chores for the day. Laundry did not fold itself....And I would have done it too, we would not have suffered a week's worth of wrinkled, left too long in the dryer, tshirts had I not remembered the thing. The most beautiful, glorious little tidbit that caught my breath with delight and the promise of adventure.
A telescoping 32 foot aluminum ladder, perfect for reaching the roof and wild lemurs.
Laundry or ladders and lemurs? There was no contest.
Spending the afternoon sunbathing on a scalding hot roof with a ring tailed lemur. Totally worth a week's worth of wrinkled t-shirts.

Character Dimensions: 3" x 2" x 2.75"

Ballard the Fat FOX

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:40 -0500

$18.00
Character Dimensions: 2.5" x 2" x 1.75"

I know what happens to animals that get too close to the border where reality meets un-reality. Strange things happen. Wonderfully strange, enchanting, non-every day, un-normal things happen.
The wild creatures of the world that have the luck, I consider it luck, to be born right on that border are the most interesting animals you'll ever run across. You'd understand why if you met one. At first glance it's a familiar beast, on second glance, risking whiplash to see if your eyes are playing tricks on you, the differences become apparent.
I've met more than my fair share of borderline reality animals so usually I can mask my curiosity pretty well on first meet. Usually I can offer a polite smile and nod of the head....unless they are so cartoonishly cute that their very non-normal existence grabs me by the will power and propels me into doing silly things like snatching up a fat round fox for a hug.
Hey don't get me wrong, foxes enjoy a nice hug like the rest of us but usually they like to know your name before you're burying your face against shimmering fur and holding them close for a surreal, un-real, border line un reality type cuddle.
Luckily upon releasing Ballard from my clutches, and after a hasty and slightly late and embarrassed bit of introductions, I came to find a friendly, forgiving soul in Ballard the Fox.
"So sorry, terribly sorry. I'm not sure what came over me. I've just never met a fox so......."
Ballard grinned and wiggled his front paws at me. "You wanna say fat don't ya?"
I grinned back. "Actually, I was going to say round."
Ballard glanced down at himself before puffing his chest out with pride. "I'm one of the roundest of my kind if you can believe it." His voice sang with a clarity and sweetness one doesn't usually associate with Foxes. Most of the ones I've met had very sharp, precise voices.
"Oh I can believe it! I'd never argue with a fox, especially not one as adorable as you."
Ballard arched one brow, which was an impressive skill, considering I didn't really see any eyebrows on his forehead. "Did you just call me adorable?"
I winced, thinking I had finally gushed just a little too far. "Umm, yes." I answered, a little sheepishly.
Ballard stared up at me with huge wide eyes filled with wonder. When he spoke his voice had dropped to a whisper. "That...is so amazing! HOW did you do that? Wow, lady are you........." His voice trailed off to non-existent, forcing me to crouch down ever closer until we were eye to eye. "Psychic?" Ballard finished.
I grinned. How could I not? A round little border line reality fox thought I was psychic? "Nooooo, can't say that I am." I admitted, a little saddened that I couldn't claim otherwise. But hey, I was born in a regular town not on the intersection between planes of existence like Ballard.
"Then HOW did you know that?" Ballard asked, voice rising once more with mounting excitement. Apparently so much excitement that it couldn't be contained in one round little fox body. For he started jumping up and down on his back feet. Boing, boing, boing he went. Each hop punctuated with the same question. "How? How? How?"
I was losing track of the conversation. Distracted by the bouncing ball of foxy cuteness hopping in front of me. I gave a quick thanks to gravity, otherwise Ballard would have been launched off the earth by now. "I think I'm lost, how did I know what?"
Ballard stopped hopping long enough to press closer to me, pushing against my knees until our faces were so close I was growing concerned that our eyeballs might actually begin touching. I was beginning to think, considering Ballard's complete lack of understanding of the basics like personal space that I could have went for more than one impromptu cuddle hug when we first met and it would have been fine.
"How, did you KNOW I was adorable?" Ballard asked.
I snickered.
He didn't. He didn't blink either. He was serious.
The creatures that have the luck of being born on the border where reality meets un-reality are beyond fascinating. And most definitely a source of never ending amusement. I would explain just this to Ballard, as soon as I was done laughing.

Character Dimensions: 2.5" x 2" x 1.75"

Damario the porcupine

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:40 -0500

$20.00
Character Dimensions:
Just Damario: 1.25" x 1.25" x 4"
Tree branch length: 5"

There is nothing quite like the feel of being watched. Such a strange and peculiar sensation it provokes. The itching on the back of your neck, fine hairs rising to attention along your nape, sort of feeling when someone's eyes are resting on you. When I am wandering through the woods and such a feeling creeps over me, settling across my skin like a fine cloak of awareness, I stop. I look around, peering past the great trees, trying to see what should be seen and make contact with what is seeing me.
It's the eyes one should look for, the sharp glint, the intelligent shine that will spark and catch even the faintest bit of light from the deepest shadows.
On one such occasion, when I was near to the point of calling, "Come out, come out, wherever you are!", I heard the faintest rustle. A soft shuffling sound that stood out as separate from the rest of the natural forest sounds. Woods are noisier than one might think. Between the chattering of squirrels, the chirping of birds, the creaking of trees, the rustling of leaves and the constant rabbit nose twitching there are times the woods are as chaotic and crazy as the busiest street in a city. Just it's own kind of chaotic and busy.
But there are sounds to be aware of, sounds that stand out from the pulsing constant hum of forest life. Sounds like some small creature sliding down a tree trunk just above your head.
You can screech when you're in the woods.
The deer think it's hilarious and will bound away in mighty leaps if they are near. They don't laugh in the traditional sense but you can tell from the way their hooves trample the fallen branches and stomp across the pillowy moss that they are amused.
When I stared up, hand against my chest to slow my beating heart I jolted again to meet the eyes of the one who'd been watching.
Dark shiny eyes peered down cautiously at me from behind the tree trunk it was hugging. It's heavy body defying gravity as it's little paws clung to the branches.
"Hello!" I called up.
There was a hush. The birds nearby were holding their breaths and even the wind seemed to pause as I strained to hear an answer. There was the softest chuckle and the little round face of the porcupine ducked shyly behind the tree.
I was sure I heard the faintest, "Hi."
Grinning I slowly moved closer to the tree. Being careful not too move to fast and abruptly so as not to startle the young porcupine.
"Hi there. Whatcha doing up there?" I called again, wishing like heck I'd brought my camera along.
The little porcupine didn't answer, but again I heard the faintest chuckle as he hugged the tree tighter and buried his face against the trunk.
A cheerful voice called down from another tree, the trilling high sound of a bird. "That's Damario. You won't get a word out of him. He's shyer than anyone or anything."
"Awwww." Well it seemed like an appropriate response if not very articulate at the time.
I continued to circle the tree Damario the shyest porcupine ever clung to. Occasionally he dared to lift his face and peek down at me. When he did I caught the barest hint of a smile before he ducked away again. His quills quivered with what I assumed were giggles, the sounds he made certainly sounded like giggles.
I couldn't stay. The time was growing late and my stomach was rumbling. I called my goodbyes to the young porcupine in the tree and after one last look I turned and headed back the way I'd come.
But I swear, I heard amongst the rustling of the leaves and calling birds the faintest, shyest little voice call out, "Bye!"

Character Dimensions:
Just Damario: 1.25" x 1.25" x 4"
Tree branch length: 5"

Pepper T. McIlhenny, witch. With interchangeable hat and hair and a magic broom

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:40 -0500

$375.00
Over 60 more photos of Pepper can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=witch_pepper

Character Dimensions in Inches, not including hat or extra hair piece: 4 x 8 x 10.5
Hat dimensions: 3 x 3 x 3.75
Extra hair piece dimensions: 3 x 2.5 x 2.5
Broom dimensions: 1.25 x 1.25 x 10

Artsist's note: Pepper is an art doll with a recycled bottle base under her skirt. She has several magical qualities including an interchangeable hairstyle and hat. The lovely hair-do and hat are attached with the use of small magnets.
Pepper's companion is a broom that stands all by it's self, and at an angle
Pepper's custom hat, hair, broom, clothing etc are all custom made just for her, no molds were used in the sculpting etc.
Pepper's name was inspired from the Tabasco bottle she is made from.

Pepper T. McIlhenny, witch. Not to be confused with any evil, spell casting upon innocents and waving a magic wand around all willy nilly, sort of witch either. Pepper only cackled when a joke was told, and a good one at that. And as for magic wands, she left that sort of thing for school boys and novices.
A real witch needed no instrument to direct her power other than her mind. A quick gesture of her hand sent waves of unseen magic to do her bidding. It tickled the air like soundless notes to music. She toyed with the building blocks of matter like they were play things, creating fantastical feats of creativity in her every day life.
Pepper glided across the wood floor, worn smooth and glossy by years and the feet of friends. Her skirt swished, pooling around her legs as she hummed and spun, dancing to the invisible music she created out of thin air. Her trusty broom, a witch's most practical companion, swept by in a frenzied dance of it's own. Clouds of dust sparkled in it's wake, caught in the beams of sunlight that poured through the open shutters, almost like magic itself.
Pepper dipped and the broom bowed, defying gravity but not Pepper's will. Her little cozy cottage was swept free of dirt and the clouds of darkness that seeped under her protective charms. She'd have no naughty dust bunnies wreaking havoc in her house, no way. With a flick of her wrists, palms glowing green with the phantom symbols of her power, Pepper drew upon the reservoirs of ancient magic belonging to the air and the earth. The front door of her cottage flew open, the broom raced in a frenzied speed, a blur across the room, chasing the naughty dust bunnies and clouds of darkness out the door.
Pepper beamed, happiness radiated from her face, dark eyes shone with the pure joy of a tidy house. Clapping her hands the door thundered shut, narrowly missing the broom that popped inside just in the nick of time.
Pepper tsk tsked, waggling one slender finger, still almost glowing with the faint shimmer of green magic, at the door. It wasn't really a feud between the door and the broom, but she didn't want it to become one either. The door was made of crab apple tree, the most ill-tempered of woods, a little crankiness was to be expected but outright rudeness was not allowed.
Under her steady gaze the door seemed to shrink back a little further in it's frame, the broom timidly peeked around Pepper's skirts and as if sensing the the coast was clear spun happily about the room, prompting Pepper to laugh.
When she laughed, letting loose with the purest sound of joy, the woods outside stilled. Complete silence surrounded the little cabin, as if the entire world of nature in Pepper's vicinity held it's collective breath for one moment. Then the life rushed back in a dazzling whoosh of energy that could be felt and seen and heard by all who were lucky enough to be near her home. The birds broke into song, the wind rushed through the tress making them sigh, the sound of chimes tinkled in the air, though none could ever be found. It was just the way of magic, the way of Pepper.
Pleased with her morning's work Pepper planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. Eyes missing nothing, curtains twitched into proper place, wrinkles eased out of the quilts on the chairs, pillows seemed to plump and settle prettily against the sofa back. The rugs slipped from their waiting spots on the bannister leading upstairs and slid across the polished floor on whispering sighs of contentment. Fringes wiggling happily.
Pepper nodded, once, a sharp motion of her chin and her perfectly purple witch's hat flew off of her head, settling to it's resting spot once more on the stone hearth of the fireplace. Her hair, a bit of vanity she admitted, sprang perfectly coiffed back into place. Pepper T. McIlhenny had been battling hat hair for centuries the sorceress' way. A bit of magic ensured she was always fashionably company ready.
The sofa beckoned, as if sensing Pepper's intent, the cushions vying for attention, and Pepper joined them, almost floating on air across the room. Cuddling up on the sofa, gaze settling on the fire place. Instantly the flames burned brighter, a little taller, pleased to have the attention of it's master.
It had been many, many, many years, more than Pepper could even recall really, since she'd first lit the enchanted fire. Never once had it's embers died, it's flames always burning. On the coldest of days it filled the room with warmth, on the hottest it's light allowed for easy reading and writing of spells.
It was a good spell Pepper admitted to herself.
A bit of coal and some fireweed,
the heat of a dragon's gaze,
the light of the sun from a winter's day,
breath of magic, fire blazed....
Forever. Or at least, she supposed, for a few hundred years so far.
Pepper T. McIlhenny, witch, settled back in front of the cheerful flames that danced for her eyes. A smile tugged at her lips as she saw it's eager flickers and flares to please. It was an every day, enchanted morning, a bit of charmed life. The same as many before and more to come, her little slice of magical heaven in her warm little cottage in the middle of the woods.

Over 60 more photos of Pepper can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=witch_pepper

Character Dimensions in Inches, not including hat or extra hair piece: 4 x 8 x 10.5
Hat dimensions: 3 x 3 x 3.75
Extra hair piece dimensions: 3 x 2.5 x 2.5
Broom dimensions: 1.25 x 1.25 x 10

Artsist's note: Pepper is an art doll with a recycled bottle base under her skirt. She has several magical qualities including an interchangeable hairstyle and hat. The lovely hair-do and hat are attached with the use of small magnets.
Pepper's companion is a broom that stands all by it's self, and at an angle defying gravity at that! !
Pepper's custom hat, hair, broom, clothing etc are all custom made just for her, no molds were used in the sculpting etc.
Pepper's name was inspired from the Tabasco bottle she is made from.

Zeelug the Monster slug

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:40 -0500

$20.00
Character Dimensions: 2.5" x 1.5" x 3"

The clouds were rolling in at unnatural speeds, which Zeelug knew meant that magic was a foot. Most likely Monster magic as the rest of the world tended to avoid messing with the natural order of things.
Monsters didn't.
In fact Monsters delight in messing with the natural order of things. Zeelug had spent some time thinking about this and he'd come to the conclusion that monsters were such unnatural creatures, misfits in the world, that it was no shock their hobbies were as un-natural as themselves. They liked to chew on bridges, fling ghosts at each other in bi-annual fun filled ghost fling fests and quite often bended the environment around them to suit their needs.
Zeelug fixed his eye on the sky again, his one eye, and focused on the clouds gathering thickly overhead. He stared, and then stared harder. And then, calling upon a particular skill of his own Monster Magic, stared even harder than before. Until the clouds above resembled tiny bits and pieces of matter that were all swirling in the familiar chaotic grasp of Monster Magic.
A ha! So he'd been right. He should have bet himself a week's worth of slime, he'd have won. Speaking of which....
Zeelug rolled his eye downwards, still gazing at the world through the fine tuned veil of Monster magic enhanced vision. Sometimes Zeelug preferred seeing this way, it gave him a different perspective on sliming. Allowing him to see the ultimate, slime ready areas that were just crying out for his special touch.
Slluuuuuuurp.
Crawling forward, he purposely left a trail of shimmering iridescent and quite frankly, in his own opinion, beautiful ooze. Slime. Lovely.
He sighed and inched forward another few feet, gazing at the ground with Monster enhanced vision, seeing the areas of particles that were less densely packed. The microscopic nooks and crevices that his beautiful slime would cling to the best.
If he had his way he'd spend all his days sliming the whole of the earth. But pesky things like food and family and complaining humans kept him from his dreams. It was especially best not to slime where the humans went, they tended to differ on opinion as to what was beautiful. When they stepped out of their homes on cool Saturday mornings into ankle deep trails of slime they didn't appreciate Zeelug's Monster art, they just screeched incoherently and ran inside slamming their doors behind them. As if they'd never seen a 5 foot long slug beautifying their driveway before. Sheesh. Zeelug wiggled his tiny tentacles in frustration, waving them in the air as if to shoo away his negative thoughts. To please himself he scooted forward, Slurrrrrrrrrrrp, another slimy bit of trail left in his wake.
The dark shadows of clouds continued to roll on by, but just behind them, as if chasing them along was the brilliant blue above.
Zeelug slugged forward towards it, until the dim shade suddenly gave way to brilliant sunshine. Zeelug happily turned in a slow squishy circle, leaving slime behind him and when he'd made a perfect patch of slimy goodness turned to look at his art. The sun hit the slime and seemed to explode into thousands of bright, glittering particles of light. It was so intense that Zeelug shook his head, and blinked his eye, turning off his Monster magic vision and looking with normal, well Monster normal, vision at the slime.
It was no less beautiful, seeing it sparkling behind him like a glittering blanket over the land, but definitely easier on the eye.
Zeelug wiggled his tentacles in delight, it was so beautiful, so perfect, there was no way to express the joy of sliding sluggishly over rock and dirt and sliming every inch of it.
Except to maybe slime some more.

Character Dimensions: 2.5" x 1.5" x 3"

Bala the baby Giraffe

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:40 -0500

$18.00
Character Dimensions: 1.5" x 1" x 3.25"

I was having a fine time. My giraffe attractant spray was working most effectively. And being homemade was more potent than any store-bought giraffe attractant spray could ever hope to be. Within minutes of whipping up a batch, giraffes I had never met before were lumbering up the drive way in their great long legged way and gathering about the yard for an impromptu giraffe picnic. I wandered freely and unafraid amongst the living forest of legs. Surrounded by the long columns of spotted limbs I felt so very tiny and I had to tilt my head back very far to see the smiling and amused faces of the giraffes who had stopped by.
My neck had grown quite used to this odd position and I walked about with what I'm sure was a goofy grin spread across my face staring up at the creamy bellies of the gentlest of the big beasts on earth. So it was with no surprise when I smacked straight into something but quite a lot of surprise when the voice did not drift down from the tops of the trees the giraffes were snacking on but from nearer my own height!
I tilted my head down to it's normal viewing position, breathed a sigh of relief it hadn't got locked in the tipped back position, and stared at the giraffe who I should have been apologizing to for bumping into. His voice had come from my height because he was my height! A five foot tall giraffe can only mean one thing!!!!!
"OHhhhhhhh you're a baby!" I tried not to squeal this time. I really did and even though I put a significant amount of effort into not sounding like an irritated farm pig I must admit my breath still ended on a peculiarly high note. It's not my fault, I blame the adorableness factor of this giraffe. With the shy tilt of his head and solemn large eyes. The way he stepped closer to his family and peered around the giant leg of an older relative and stared with as much curiosity at me as I was him.
"Well hello there sweetheart!" I want to say I didn't croon...but I'd be lying.
The giraffe's lips twitched and he smiled slowly. "Hello sweetheart." He replied back in slow round tones I always associate with young giraffes.
I grinned and hoped he did not see the baring of my teeth as a sign of aggression. But from the answering, albeit giraffey, grin he returned I was sure there'd been no giraffe faux pas committed on my part.
"What's your name?" I asked, stepping closer into the shadow of the towering giraffe whose leg the young one was standing shyly behind. Overhead the sky was a brilliant blue, the sun burned bright, glinting on the hints of rich gold in the giraffe fur. The birds that normally were all chirping this time of day were silent. Fascinated spectators they lined the roof of the house and watched with awe the informal gathering of giraffes that had descended upon my little yard.
I leaned as close as I dared to the tiny giraffe who was as tall as I was and listened to the quiet breathy answer.
"I'm Bala. Is this a party?" He blinked quickly, a little nervous and tugged his head back under the safety of the elder giraffe. As if a little un-nerved at the boldness of his own question.
"Is this a party...well....why not? YES! Yes indeed this IS a party! We have all the elements don't we?" I spun in a small circle, arms spread gazing at the contentedly chatting giraffes.
"What elements?" Bala's tiny voice was filled with curiosity and he was even so bold as to step out from the shadow of the elder giraffe and into the center of the gathering with me.
"Well we have good companions. All you giraffe-y lot and myself. Umm....what else? We have music, or we would have if the birds weren't so transfixed by the sight of y'all."
"Ohhhhh. They'll sing if we ask them to!" Bala turned his face towards the roof of the house and called out in strange soothing tones to the birds who waited there. They cocked their heads as if listening intently to what ever young Bala was saying and when he finished his speech in what I could only imagine was a mixture of giraffe language with a smattering of bird they all opened their beaks and began chirping.
Under the pleased gaze of Bala my eyes bugged and my ears were no doubt looking quite perked as I listened with amazement. The normally noisy birds, whose calls were quite cheerful but dis-organized, were......singing? Well singing in bird language at any rate but it was definitely a song. And they were all singing the same one. The music swelled louder and faster as birds from neighboring yards swooped in and flew around the giraffes, adding to the music.
"Bala that was amazing!!! Can all giraffes talk to the birds?" I was so impressed and not afraid to show it.
Young Bala poked his chest out with obvious pride. "Yes but....my Mama says I'm the only one who can make them sing like that."
"It's amazing, now it's really a party. What else do we need, what would you like?" I was carried away now. Swept up in the festive atmosphere, feeling pride and pleasure caught in the middle of a small herd of giraffes with my new friend Bala, laughter and music raining down all around us.
Bala shifted on his feet and ducked his head, shy again. "Well....."
"What? You can say it. What would you like for the party?" I slung an arm around his warm neck and Bala pressed close and I felt his furry lips brush against my ear as he whispered shyly, "Ice Cream. I have heard tell of it. I see the young humans with it. Once I spied over the fence of a yard and all the young humans breathed on a fiery lump my Mama called cake. I don't think I'd want a fire cake. Fire's bad but the ice cream.........it looked very nice." Bala's shy words tugged at my heart. If it was ice cream he wanted to try than it was ice cream he was gonna have.
"Hold on to your..er....well...metaphorical hat Bala my friend. You have come to the right place for an ice cream party. Do you know what yesterday was?"
Bala smiled as if sensing an impending joke. "No...what?"
I leaned in close to his ear this time and cupping my hand around the soft flap I whispered, "Two for one day on premium ice cream at the grocery store. Which means......"
Bala whispered back, our faces so close I could see my own reflection in his dark eyes. "It means you got some?" He whispered excitedly.
"Some? HA!" I ran up the stairs to the kitchen with a bounce in my steps. Some? On two for one day on premium ice cream? Bala was in for the ice cream party of his life. Come to think of it....ice cream socializing with a giraffe? So was I!

Character Dimensions: 1.5" x 1" x 3.25"

Caitriona the Dragonfly Fairy

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:40 -0500

$28.00
Oh Caitriona, how beautiful you are!
I am sure I can see every color of the rainbow reflected in your skin! And yet I hear tell you do not hover over rain puddles, as SOME other dragonfly fairies whose name we won't say, do. You're not obsessed with your reflection, peering into every shiny surface you come across to see your own beauty.

Congratulations by the way. The other fairies told me that you have won the Great Fairy Race 2 years in a row! That is quite an accomplishment. I was told the race is pretty difficult. Flying triple loop-de-doos around a rainbow, zipping through a rain storm with out ever letting a drop hit you and to finish it off you hurtle right straight through a field of poppies and not only did NOT sneeze but avoided all the bees.
Well done Caitriona!

I can see why the wind is your favorite thing in the world, I imagine hurtling through the air with a breeze at your back, lifting your wings must be a marvelous feeling.
I can't wait to chat more when you slow down from your never ending racing!

Caitriona is shown in one of the photos with her friends. Other fairies sold separately.

Character dimensions:
3" x 0.5"
Wing span: 4"

Please note fairies are not intended for outside use, they'd prefer hovering around indoor plants.

Secret PEN Mountain

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:40 -0500

$140.00
There's something mysterious about this castle.....
An impenetrable fortress with amazing views. It's not just the shadows of ghosts inside the windows, not just the strange stone structures on the grounds....There's something more than meets the eye with this place.....Travel the winding road, across the old stone bridge, marvel at the intricate brick work and dream about what secrets await you at the top of the hill.....

Ohhhhhhh, The castle is a PEN!!

No one would ever guess that the lovely old castle sitting atop the mountain is actually a pen.
Fitting so perfectly within the mountain base you can't tell by looking.

dimensions:
9" tall

This sculpture not only boasts a usable pen but many intricate details including stonehenge like structures, a mysterious bricked cave entrance, intricate brickwork on the bridge and supporting road walls, a tiny house, a face carved into the side of the cliff, an inviting pool of *water*, trees and more.

More photos available on request so that you can see every side, angle and detail.

Jaladhi the Octopus Ornament

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:40 -0500

$30.00
LOTS more photos of Jaladhi can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=octopus_Jaladhi

Character Dimensions in Inches: 3 x 2.5 x 3

**Note** Jaladhi can be displayed hanging or sitting. :)

IF...I could descend deep into the ocean's depths, forgoing air for adventure, I might see such strange and marvelous things. Leaving the sunlit, blue skies behind, sinking ever deeper into the cold, salt water's embrace, surrounding myself with the secrets of the seas. Letting the waves rock me, the kelp entangling me, dragging me deeper, it would be a treat for my senses.
The icy water, the undulating sea grass, the coral that I'm sure blankets the ocean floor like a multi colored carpet.
Oh to be a part of that secret world, sounds muted, distant eerie cries of whales, rising bubbles from the frenetic movements of silvery schools of fish. Watch them slip by, like a cloud of shining scales.
At the bottom when the ocean becomes land again, cliffs and valleys that are a watery mirror of the lands above would be a treat to explore. Dark caves would beckon, hiding potential...marvelous creatures not yet seen by the human eye...treasures lost by pirates long ago...or something so fantastic the human mind can not even imagine it...
I can almost see the the smooth dark shape rising from a cloud of stirred sand, filling my vision with it's alien like features. The face staring back at me with deep, dark eyes, the gentle shimmer on it's skin.
I am sure it's tentacles would undulate in the water, waving, beckoning me closer to see the marvels of it's existence. The many arms boggling my senses, how can such a creature exist?
I might yearn to swim closer, floating on the salty waves, and wish I could pet this odd animal as I would a puppy on the land.
Would an octopus recognize a smile? I am sure they're universal, undersea or not.
If I could speak Octopus I'd greet the shy monster happily, I'd speak of it's enchanting home and praise it's many tentacles, to be polite. Politeness being essential to an underwater octopus meeting I assume.
I can all but see the the way it moves, all but hear it's name, like a breathy gurgle, slipping through the water and into my ears. Jaladhi...
A lovely name for my new many legged friend I think....
IF...I could descend and meet him.

LOTS more photos of Jaladhi can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=octopus_Jaladhi

Character Dimensions in Inches: 3 x 2.5 x 3

**Note** Jaladhi can be displayed hanging or sitting. :)

RingMaster was FEATURED in an ART DOLL QUARTERLY

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:14 -0500

$160.00
Roland D'Ball the RingMaster will be featured in the upcoming issue of Art Doll Quarterly!
MORE photos can be seen at
alittlecharacter.com/ringmasterintro.html?id=ringmaster&page=2

Ringmaster Roland D'Ball

Ever since he was a wee little boy Roland has wanted to join the circus. Fulfilling his wildest dreams Roland did more than join a 3 ring circus he started his own, and became Ringmaster of it all! Combining vaudeville song and dance with a colorful cast of characters, Roland feels like he's on top of the world every night he's on top of his ball!
Never happier than when the spotlight is on, buttered popcorn scent fills the air and an audience is present. 3 people or 3 hundred, Roland and his crew never fail to entertain!

character dimensions:
9.75"x3.5"x3.75"

Leonello the CAT man was FEATURED in an ART DOLL QUARTERLY

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:14 -0500

$220.00
Leonello is featured in the upcoming Aug/Sept/Oct issue of Art doll quarterly!
More photos can be seen at
alittlecharacter.com/catmanintro.html?id=catman&page=2

Leonello has more energy than a dozen catnip buzzed cats put together!
But don't call him a cat... or you'll have to listen to his whole genealogical history! Including how his great great grandfather was a Lion and some aunt on his mother's side was a circus acrobat. It's fascinating for sure but once he starts he never stops.... Ready for a bit of fun at a moments notice he'll pounce on any excuse to jump around!

character dimensions:
11.5" tall

Lots more photos showing every angle of Leonello, closeups etc. available upon request!

Takeo the Panda Bear

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:06 -0500

$35.00
Character Dimensions: 3" x 3" x 4"
Check out Takeo's Panda friend Cilly at
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=20259445

I'm pretty good about remembering to water the plants on the patio. If I was to give myself a score I'd say it was at least 60%. Which is more than 50% which is why my plants are not dead but merely quite grateful for their bi-weekly waterings. Often times I will pop out in the middle of the day, when the sun is shining hotly, to sit on the patio chairs and take a moment or two to "play lizard" as my husband calls it. To sit and soak up the sun, let it warm my bones and burn red behind my eyelids and send me into that lovely trance that only the sun can bring about. And if it results in snoring, so be it, and if I remember to water the plants while I'm out there...even better..
The idea is too tempting, so much so that I sneak away from my self appointed chores, blow a kiss to my husband and head out the patio doors. Mentally I am already basking in the sun but all thoughts of sun soaking skitter away as I round the corner of the patio and come to an abrupt halt. The sight before me is one unlike anything else I have ever seen before. I am shocked, tongue tied, feet frozen to the warm wood of the deck and......there appears to be a Panda Bear rifling through my patio plants. I am not sure which is more perturbing, the appearance of a wild Panda Bear on my California patio or the fact that he is fondling all of my plants.
For a moment words escape me, they rattle off beyond the reach of my tongue and all I can do is mumble incoherently as the Panda rubs a mighty black paw over my fern. Despite little ears he must have good hearing, for his head swivels sharply and our eyes meet.
"I beg your pardon." I say, and instinctively step backward. It's when an apology that has leapt, uninvited to the tip of my tongue and almost spills out that I halt my retreat and call out "Heeeeeeey!" For a moment I had felt like the intruder, busting in on the Panda's private moment in the garden, until it all comes raining down on me in a storm of realization that it's MY patio, MY garden and MY right to be out there.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeey!" I say again, advancing on the startled Panda, who isn't blushing but this fellow was as close to blushing as a Panda bear could get. He winced, ducking his great head and to my further amazement shuffled his feet in an impressive display of embarrassment.
"Ummmm, hello. I do apologize. Really this must look very bad, very bad indeed....but...well...I apologize. I'll leave right away!" He turned to go.
"WAIT!" After all I am no dummy, if I find a Panda bear rifling through my patio plants on a lovely hot sunny day I'm not going to chase him off. Sure I may demand an explanation and possibly an apology but the bottom line was, visit from a Panda? Swwweeeeeeeeeeet! Even if it is a criminal Panda?
"Are you a criminal?" I demand. It's best to get these sorts of things out of the way before offering afternoon tea.
"Er...well....not yet." The Panda peered at me from the corners of his eyes, head still ducked in embarrassment.
"Oh? OH! Well, really, what do you mean NOT yet? Are you going on a Panda crime spree? Did I interrupt? You'll find no alibis here, no siree. Just what were you up to anyways?"
"Well, you see....I may have been about to commit a criminal act. I was going to eat that bamboo over there." He pointed, with a great black paw that was impressively wide towards the general direction of the plants I'd seen him rifling through.
"OHhhhhhh, well. I don't think you ought to just go about snacking on people's gardens you know. It's frowned upon in these parts. No matter how delicious, how tempting, how ripe the persimmons are in your neighbor's...er.....where was I? Umm, well, it's better all around if you just ask."
"Oh yes, yes! I quite agree. I would have asked, maybe, I should have asked but I was sooooo hungry. I haven't had any bamboo since this morning and I think I burned more calories today because of the heat and my fur and of course your stairs leading up here are quite steep....er...and I saw that little bamboo...so delicate...so green...soooo mmmmmmmmmmmm." He trailed off, eyes glittering with bamboo snack desire.
"Look, what's your name big fellow, I can't just call you Panda."
"My name is Takeo. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, even under these most embarrassing of situations. OH! Oh wouldn't you know it."
"Know what?" I was puzzled.
"Em-BEARassed, how ironic hmmmm?" He chuckled, and his funny Panda laugh was too much to resist. What a character this fellow was.
"Ok, Takeo, would you care to join me for a sun soak and a snack? I can offer you tea and bamboo." I grinned at him, seeing his face alight with hunger and happiness.
"Well I really shouldn't....." He stared past me to the bit of bamboo in the pot amongst my ferns. "But...if you insist."
It was one of the best sun soak afternoons I have ever had. Takeo lounged on the sun warmed boards of the patio floor, and I sat tipped back in my chair. We lifted our faces so the sun beat directly on us and with eyes closed chatted. And munched, Takeo on my bamboo plant and I on some cookies.

Character Dimensions: 3" x 3" x 4"
Check out Takeo's Panda friend Cilly at
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=20259445

Belladonna the mysterious woman from another world

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 09:18:06 -0500

$25.00

Character Dimensions: 5.5" x 1.25" x 1.25"
Belladonna's head is only 0.5" wide from ear to ear.

She loves blood red buttons and lipstick. Though she's been known to take a shine to common pinks. She loves foggy eves when the howling wind chases the mists along the beach, corralling clouds of fog against the cliffs.
And how how she loves the cliffs. Having a yen for the dramatic she walks barefoot amongst the stones, crashing waves below her in the dark, the ocean but a shimmer of never ending glittering blackness.
The wind slides over her bare arms like icy fingers and where others would shiver in cold, she shivers in delight.
Those who drive the lonely twisting road alongside the cliffs might see her and gasp. Braking, hearts racing, teeth chattering at the pale form in the moonlight. There are those who swore they saw not a person but an apparition, a ghost of some poor tormented soul forever caught on the rocks of the cliffs.
There are still others who would swear up and down through chattering teeth that it was a vampire, letting the word spill from their trembling lips, as they swallow hard, so sure they have been confronted with the supernatural.
If Belladonna had heard these suspicions, had been there to listen in on the strange fantastical tales that people wove around her like a cloak, she'd have been very amused. But Belladonna rarely paid any attention to the humans.
It was the ocean that drew her, as if it had a silken chord around her throat and pulled her ever closer. Luring her with the scent of salt and brine, lulling her senses with thundering waves and whispering sands.
In her world, on the other side of our plane of existence, there were no oceans. And Belladonna thought it a shame as they were wonderfully magnificent, untamed and full of raw energy she could all but taste.
As often as she could Belladonna made her way from her world to ours, to walk the cliffs next to her beloved sea. The trip was never easy but always worth the arduous journey. Following the roots of the Atropa plant that wind their way through the barrier between worlds. On our side they are a great and mysterious poisonous plant, in Belladonna's world the roots sustain her entire people.
They've been labeled as fairies, and Belladonna shoulders the title lightly. It wasn't exactly what she was, but it wasn't what she wasn't either.
They were caretakers, guardians of plant life in a way that few humans will ever know. Tending the roots that burst free from their soil like pale grey withered arms. Where our world is bright and green and full of sun, Belladonna's is dark and wan. All the plants are the roots of our own, and their skies are dim so that they can flourish as they would in the soil.
Belladonna has been tending to the young roots of Atropa her entire life and while she loves her job there are days she wishes she could abandon it all for the sea. And because our two worlds are tethered together by the living roots of the Atropa, there may be nights when you think you see a pale lonely figure, shrouded in fog, staring longingly out at the ocean, and you do.

Character Dimensions: 5.5" x 1.25" x 1.25"
Belladonna's head is only 0.5" wide from ear to ear.

Wee little Mushroom House

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 22:01:45 -0500

$18.00
Character Dimensions: Base: 2" x 2"
Height of Mushroom house and base together: 2.5"

I don't mind elves taking up residence in my home.
I rather enjoy their company actually. So full of energy and magical skills and fantastical stories and brewers of the best dang ellaberry tea you never had! They are, all in all, great roommates......I just wasn't expecting them to haul a piece of elven territory, specifically a tuft of moss, into my living room complete with official elven toadstool house. (I should have learned better by now, you never not expect nothing when it comes to other worldly folk)
NOT to be eaten, so I've been told...over and over and OVER again. I shall not make that mistake, of asking whether elves make their mushroom homes out of edible mushrooms, ever again. Because apparently a number one concern amongst the toadstool dwelling elves is that their homes will be eaten by piggish humans. Their term not mine, as I rarely describe myself as piggish and if I was it would involve ice cream and not mushrooms.
When I first caught the faint whiff of smoke I thought the neighbors were bar-b-q-ing. When I realized the scent was wafting from the other end of my desk I thought I might have started lighting incense in my sleep..... When I saw that it was actually the cheerful plumes of fireplace smoke wafting gently in soft grey puffs into the air near my computer monitor from a wee little chimney I sighed with relief.
A side note....do not sigh, even an average human sigh, near an elf's mushroom house chimney as even the gentlest human breath can cause a down draft in their flu and that will cause, AT THE VERY LEAST, one soot covered elf to storm out their front door to stamp a sooty foot on your desk in wee elf anger.
Which, on another side note, is not as adorable and cheek pinchingly cute as it sounds as elves are strange creatures with unpredictable moods and a deep reservoir of untouched earth magic. Insulting an elf could just very well land you with an entire village of little mushroom houses all across your desk. Which also might sound cute until you realize the elves now outnumber you and have taken a vote and there shall be no tippity tapping on keyboards during elven meal times, nap times, work times or play times. Which leaves you with exactly 3 minutes after midnight to do a day's worth of typing.
Other than all that, I really don't mind elves taking up residence in my home....

Character Dimensions: Base: 2" x 2"
Height of Mushroom house and base together: 2.5"

Navin the fat baby Dragon

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 22:01:45 -0500

$25.00
LOTS more photos of Navin can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/dragon_navin.html

Character Dimensions in Inches, including wings:
3.5 x 2.5 x 2.25

You can not pass up the opportunity to observe a newly hatched dragon. You just can't. I'm not sure whether baby dragons are actually emitting a transfixational energy wave that holds one as an eager, captive audience or if it's just plain common sense dictating 'Stay, watch, this is cool.'
And it is, way cool in fact. Being in the presence of a dragon any time is an experience of pure wonderment and joy but a baby one...you can all but feel your brain melt into a puddle of mush. They're beyond adorable. Short bodies, round and plump and still vaguely shaped like the egg they slept inside for all those months. Tails just beginning to grow and sporting itsy bitsy wings you just want to grab hold of and hug tight, and you would if you didn't fear the wrath of Mama dragon and her fiery breath.
When I first stumbled across Navin, literally stumbled, he was sprawled in the pathway that wound it's way up a steep and rocky hillside. I winced as I lurched over him, narrowly missing his chubby tail, already he was flapping his wings and rising back into the air. Me doing a strange imitation as I flapped my arms to keep from landing on my own butt.
"Ooops." He chirped, the little dragon beaming all innocent smiles, before immediately dissolving into a fit of giggles. He shook in the air, entire body vibrating as he chortled and snorted, little clouds of smoke puffing from his nostrils. Wings beating the air frantically, fighting the pull of gravity and the un-coordinated movements of his body.
I stared, already transfixed, already half in love.
Another round of giggles burst forth from his lips and in the blink of a dragon's glittering eye he was falling back down to the trail. Dust flying up around him mingling with the clouds of smoke.
"Ooops again. That's what got me, Navin, that's me, stuck on this ol' dirt in the first place!" He snickered and waggled his paws, and using his tail pushed himself upright, shaking the dust from his wings before lifting into the air again. "Laughing and flying, verrrrrry difficult to do at the same time!"
I grinned, amused.
"Navin is it?" Wanting to make sure that was his name and not some sort of dragon curse one utters when one falls on one's dragon wings.
"Yep, yep that's me. I'm Navin, I'm a dragon."
This time I did laugh. "Yes I can see that. I'm not."
"Oh, nooo, of course you're not. You haven't got wings and you don't look like you can belch fire. Can you? Maybe you can...you don't look like you can." Navin narrowed his glittering eyes and gave me the once over, almost falling out of the air again in the process. I was beginning to see how he'd ended up in the dirt in the first place.
"No, not a dragon, I'm a human."
"Oh." Navin said, tone clearly disappointed. "Not an elf?" The childish hope in his eyes made me wish more than anything in that moment that I was indeed a fire belching elf.
"No, sorry." I admitted.
"Aw, well, that's ok. Probably better I just practice some more. No shortcuts my Mama said. She's a dragon too you know. No shortcuts, no elf magic to make me fly perfect." Navin spun in the air, wings fluttering, scales shimmering in the sunlight. I couldn't decide if he was more violet or green...or maybe gold.
"Your Mama sounds wise." I leaned against a rock, out of the way of Navin's wings and settled back to watch the show. Like I said, you can not pass up the opportunity to watch a newly hatched dragon..... Especially a giggling, falling out of the sky, baby dragon like Navin.

LOTS more photos of Navin can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/dragon_navin

Character Dimensions in Inches, including wings:
3.5 x 2.5 x 2.25

Artio the young hippopotamus

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 22:01:45 -0500

$30.00
Character Dimensions: 4" x 2" x 2.25"
Artio is shown with his baby sister Dactyla in one of the photos, Dactyla is sold separately.

It was the arguing that caught my attention. It was just as any other day in Southern California. The sun was beaming but not yet burning. The winds were soft and tickling at my hair and the scent of flowers wafted down from neighboring gardens. The orange tree beckoned and I was happily plucking ripe beauties from their branches when I heard the unmistakable sound of bickering.
I listened, a smile tugging at my mouth as my ears perked in the direction of the fierce words. Hidden by the bushes I could not see the arguers but their heated exchange carried through the leaves easily enough.
"Did not!"
"DID too!"
"DIDDDDD NOT!"
It was the sort of argument one usually hears on a playground, not emanating from the bushes in one's backyard.
Curious I snuck a peek over the hedge and what I saw had me bursting through the branches, oranges clutched in my arms completely forgotten, in my eagerness to get closer to the arguing duo.
Normally I avoid squabbles, especially the human kind. But young hippopotamus are another story. I will run, straight on full throttle towards a hippopotamus verbal debate, of the loud and huffy sort, every time when given the chance!
I burst through the hedge finally with hair tangled, sporting leaves and oranges and what I'm sure was a wide eyed half crazy grin. "Hello!"
The hippos looked up at me. Two pairs of dark eyes swept over my disheveled form.
The slightly larger, and presumably older, of the two young hippopotamus stepped closer to me. "Hello!" He said brightly.
"Ohmygawwwdyou'resocuttttttte!" I responded. Then, blushing only slightly and with a grip on my oranges that threatened juice every where I cleared my throat and tried a calmer, more casual greeting. "Er...I mean hello."
The hippos were giggling, and I was much relieved. Not wanting to doom a possible friendship before I'd so much as introduced myself.
The larger hippo grinned, showing off his big teeth, eyes flashing with delight at my presence. "Hi! I'm Artio, that's my little sister Dactyla. She's shy!" He pronounced with all the mature authority of an older brother.
"Am not!" Dactyla dutifully responded in the timeless manner of little sisters everywhere, hippopotamus or otherwise.
"Are too!" Artio said.
"Am not!" Dactyla shot back just as fast, her high voice going slightly shrill with righteous indignity. One rather large foot pounding the ground to emphasize her point.
The earth shook, my eyes shot to Artio who was already readying his own front leg in retaliation. If I did not say something quick the neighbors would think we were having an earthquake, again.
"Hey, hey!" I interjected before Artio could give the dirt a wallop. I briefly wondered if I had time to run and get my camcorder, thinking a young hippopotamus sibling argument would make a great video to show over coffee and desert at my next dinner party.
Two pairs of dark shining eyes turned to me once again and two remarkably similar grins beamed up from chubby hippo faces.
"Yes?" Artio asked.
For a moment I was flummoxed, having been nearly taken over by the strong desire to pinch little hippo cheeks between my fingers and speak nonsense words once more. I cleared my throat.
"Ahem, you guys like to argue huh?" Ah, brilliant. Way to represent the humans, I chided myself.
Dactyla ducked her head, shyly, whether she admitted to being as such or not, behind her brother's broad back. Artio snorted. Hippos can snort better than any one I have ever heard. Dirt puffed up in a tiny cloud at his feet from the force of his humorous nasal exhalation. "Oh yeah. It's what we do. We could argue the bark off the trees! That's what our Mama says!"
Dactyla raised her head and peered at me over Artio's back. "Off the trees!" She echoed.
I snorted. Not nearly as impressive as Artio's though.
It was then, during the amused lull in the conversation, that I remembered my armful of oranges. It seemed like a good time to offer to share. The hippopotamus siblings readily agreed. Tongues licking their lips in anticipation and Artio stating loudly, for his sister's benefit, that he COULD have gotten some down from a tree by himself, if he'd wanted, if he knew where there was a tree.
"I've done it before!" He boasted.
I peeled oranges and started divvying up sections as Dactyla snorted, it appeared we were taking turns with nasal reactions today. She immediately countered her brother's proud claim.
"Did not!"
I knew what was coming and could not prevent the giggle as if on cue Artio rounded on his sister arguing, "DID too!"

Character Dimensions: 4" x 2" x 2.25"

Magical Mushroom Magnet

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 22:01:45 -0500

$20.00
This is a magnetic mushroom clump. Perfect for adding that natural fungi look on places that are normally fungi-less like the fridge door.

Character Dimensions: 1.5" x 2.25" x 3.75"

"Genuine Magical Mushroom Spores and More" the ad read in bold, gold lettering. It was the sort of ad I paid attention to. The sort that was obviously hand lettered on to a thick, parchment type, paper that quite possibly was just a piece of bark, peeled from a tree. The sort of ad that arrives unsolicited on your door step, accompanied by a faint haze of leftover magic, hovering in the air around it. The sort of ad with fine print that reads, "Magical mushroom spores are distributed by genuine and authentic elves. Elf certification provided on request. Spores gathered from only approved mushroom spore gathering places of the utmost highest magical quality. Free samples available."
SOLD! Those magical eleven salespeople know how to tickle my interest. No sooner had I muttered aloud, "I could use some genuine elf picked magical mushroom spores" then a poof happened.
At first I thought it was the sort of poof that accompanies a supernatural being making it's teleportational type entrance into my living room, and so swung my head around quickly to see. But it was not, it turned out the poof was of a more ordinary sort. The gentle poof sound of a tiny package hitting my front door.
SPORES! Yaaaaaay! I have no doubt, while all other package delivery services have their occasional hiccups, you can always depend on the speed and immediacy of magical eleven salespersons. They'll put what you want in your hands before your brain has even finished firing the synapsis that signal your desire for said item.
The package was innocuous. A teeny, tiny, brown paper wrapped, bundle tied with cord. A knot so tiny that my fingers fumbled at it, until exasperation and impatience combined and I snipped it open with my scissors.
Poof. Another poof, only this poof was more like the magical sort I had been looking for earlier. An even teenier, tinier than the package itself, pile of iridescent silvery particles rose in a shivering cloud above my hands. No bigger than a dime, it pulsed and moved as if alive.
A notion to *plant* these spores took root in my head and I looked wildly about for the perfect place. Having been too excited to think that far ahead, no ready pot or soil awaited these spores that I could see were beginning to look vaguely mushroom shaped.
I stood and looked wildly about, eyes racing between every possible mushroom growing spot in my kitchen and the ever changing cloud of spores hovering over my palms.
I ran, not exactly at my most calm, sparkling spores coalescing into a definite toadstoolish form with a very real danger of adhering to my fingers.
Panic was reaching critical levels, excitement was racing against the spores, my brain had abandoned me, my legs kept running and my feet...tripped. Something had to give.
I stumbled, hands flinging out in the time worn instinctive gesture of self preservation, cloud of mushroom shaped spores flung across the room. Poof.
Third poof of the day, third time's the charm, the spores hit my refrigerator, my breath held, pulse hammered and....
I blinked.
Mushrooms. Actual mushrooms now clung to the side of my fridge where only a moment before, an actual single blink of an eyelash moment before, there had just been a cloud of iridescent, sparkling, vaguely toadstoolish spores.
Mushrooms. Red capped beauties with a faint pearly sheen. Clinging to the side of my fridge with all the natural confidence that their cousins in the wild would to wood.
I stroked a cautious fingertip over one smooth cap. Those elven salespeople really know their stuff.
Imagine, magical mushrooms in my very own home!
I know what you're thinking, despite the excited, possibly exaggerated in the heat of the moment scene that led to mushrooms growing on my fridge, how can I know for absolute sure they're magical and not just a testament as to my housekeeping skills or lack there of?
Oh I know. I know because when I smiled at the 3 beauties clumped tidily together, clinging impossibly to the side of the fridge......one of them.....smiled back.

Character Dimensions: 1.5" x 2.25" x 3.75"
This is a magnetic mushroom clump. Perfect for adding that natural fungi look on places that are normally fungi-less like the fridge door.

Nestor the ELF and his Dragon

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 22:01:45 -0500

$700.00
Nestor the ELF and his Dragon
Character Dimensions: 10" x 11" x 12.5"

Greetings followed Nestor like cheerful word butterflies. Fluttering about his ears as he passed through the busy little village of Arboria. Elves paused in their doings and called "Hello there!", "Howdy Mayor!" while still others just whistled cheerfully. Their merry tunes mingling with the birdsong overhead.
Nestor greeted everyone of them. Not just because he considered it his duty as Mayor, but because he truly enjoyed his interactions with every one of the inhabitants of the tiny mossy village in the middle of the Arboria forest.
In the way of elves, Nestor had been elected by his kind to lead them, represent their interests to outsiders and to stand as figurehead of their clan. Some one strong and wise and dependable, ready with a kind word, a bit of advice or pair of willing hands when the spring harvest of dew was upon them.
Waving at the the Frials, a small family of cobbler elves that were opening up their moss mound shop for the day, Nester picked up his pace. Eager to to address the task at hand.
He was on a fact finding mission. His most favorite sort of mission. There had been rumors and much speculation about strange happenings at the edge of the Arboria forests. Reports had trickled in from elven travelers and some of the wood elves who worked their tree magic as far away as Arboria's edge, that weird noises had been heard. And flashes of odd color, too blurry for even a keen and quick elf eye to clearly see. Nestor Dwyer, Mayor of the good elf kind of Arboria was on his official fact finding mission, to see if these reports, were indeed fact.
He suspected, though would never claim it as truth until he knew for sure, that the veil obscuring their portion of the world from the other being's eyes was thinning again. Possibly in need of a little magical fence mending.
It happened sometimes, particularly after violent thunder storms which could dilute their barriers. Causing the veil to ripple like the surface of a pond on a windy day. That would account for the strange colors.
Nestor's long legs, aided by the quickening spell he'd snacked on before leaving his home that morning, carried him quickly through the forest. Even at super natural speeds the sun overhead, filtering in through the branches gently warmed Nestor's bare head. The scent of pine was strong in this area of the woods and signs of the wood elves' work could be seen. The unnaturally tidy trees, the scattering of sap buckets, the circle of stones where Nestor knew the wood elves paused for their mid day meals.
Seeing the stones Nestor slowed his walk, a soft murmur under his breath eased back the spell so that he moved in real time amongst the trees. The strange happenings were reported near the stones he recalled. No sooner had he thought this than a high pitched cry ripped through the peaceful silence of the woods.
Nestor cocked his head, ears straining to pinpoint the source. He was not afraid, knowing no earthbound creature could physically harm an elf.
Peering past a great maple tree, who grew amongst the pines by elven forestry skills, Nestor heard the sound again but this time a shimmer of blue accompanied the strange noise.
Tiptoeing closer, Nestor leaned against the maple tree and peered around it.
Expecting to see a rip in the veil, perhaps even a glimpse of the other world or one of it's beings but he saw none of that, Nestor pulled back in surprise.
The veil was fine. No rips or tears, and hardly even the beginnings of natural thinnings.
The cry let loose again and goosebumps erupted all over Nestor's skin. The plaintive sound tugged at his heart and throwing caution aside he rounded the tree and hurried forward, towards the noise.
He might have walked on by, had the veil not rippled just then. The sort of ripple caused when someone or something touched it. A shiver of iridescent color that quivered until dissipating back to it's original smooth invisible surface. Nestor traced the ripples back to their origins, and climbing over a mossy knoll, that partially obstructed his view of the veil, came face to face with the source of the cries.
"What's this?" He gasped.
For when he'd made his way along the veil he had enumerated in his mind the many causes for such a sound and yet the source before him was not one he'd thought of at all. Bemusement mingled with his instinctive concern and Nestor carefully approached the creature.
He held his hands out palm forward, an instinctive peaceful gesture and spoke in the calm soothing manner he had adopted as Mayor for speaking with representatives of other elf clans when they came to Arboria.
"I want to help you."
The creature thrashed about, wilding flapping it's wings in an attempt to fly away but Nestor could see in a glance that flying would be impossible. The poor thing, a dragon Nestor was sure, had caught it's tail in the veil. Such a thing was usually impossible. One could pass through the veil or be held back like a wall but one could not become stuck in it.
Nestor hummed softly under his breath, an ancient lullaby his great great grandmother still sung to this day when she was making her famous loves of nut bread.
The tune was more than a simple sweet melody that could calm even the most fretful elf youngling, it was woven with ancient elven magic. The very act of singing it brought a hush to the small dragon. Nestor saw it's smooth shining chest slow it's labored breathing and the wild look in it's glistening blue eyes faded away.
Relaxing on to the cushiony moss of the forest floor the little dragon swayed it's head in time with the lullaby and Nestor crept closer. Dragons were wild, unpredictable creatures. They normally chose to make their homes in the mountains so far away that they were but a shadow on the horizon on the clearest of days.
Questions filled his mind but Nestor, being a patient man, focused on the task at hand, freeing the little dragon instead of bombarding it with words.
How such a young dragon hatchling had made it so far from the mountains to the forests of Arboria to be stuck in their veil, Nestor couldn't even begin to guess.
The little dragon's eyes were closing, lulled by the magical song, it's wings had completed ceased their fluttering and had wrapped around the it's body like a glistening blue blanket.
Now that it was still, near asleep, Nestor examined where the dragon's tail was caught in the woven forces of magic that held the veil in place.
"Ahhh, a simple thing to resolve my winged friend." Nestor slid his long nimble fingers over the veil, feeling the spell, releasing just a small section of it with a few whispered words. He grasped the tail of the dragon with one hand and eased it from it's prison. Holding the quiet beast, Nestor was sure to seal the thinning where the dragon had been caught, and reminded himself to have the veil elves come out to do a thorough examination of the entire wall.
The dragon seemed content, exhausted. Nestor held it up gently by it's strong tail, knowing it would do no harm and examined the little creature.
Quiet blue eyes looked back at him and Nestor was sure he saw the beginnings of a little smile on the dragon's face.
"I've never had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of a dragon before."
The little dragon stretched her wings, fluttering them gently as if after a long sleep.
Nestor held her tail, feeling the pulse of life in the little dragon, the cool scales and warm skin, admiring the way the sun glinted off her horns. He wondered how large she'd grow. He wondered if it would be appropriate to invite her back to the village for some tea. He was known for his teas, he thought the little dragon looked like she could use a spot of tea. Maybe ellaberry tea, it was sweet and mild with a lovely relaxing quality.
Clearing his throat Nestor spoke aloud words he had only ever read before.
He stumbled over the foreign sounds, trying to make his tongue sound like a dragon's. His cheeks reddened knowing he was butchering the language but he must have done enough. Known enough, for the little dragon emitted a series of similar sounding clicks and whirrs, ending with a purr that needed no translating at all.
Nestor heaved a sigh of relief, carefully releasing the dragon. When he stood, he expected her to fly along beside him and was amused when her great wings flapped, lifting her to his shoulder where she perched with the utmost delicacy and care.
He stared into her eyes, and she into his.
"Alright then...alright."
The great Mayor of Arboria headed back towards the village, a dragon on his shoulder. He didn't quicken his pace, leaving the other half of the spell untouched, wanting the time alone with his new friend before the chaos of elven village life enfolded them.
As they traveled in companionable silence beneath the towering trees, past the great maple and ring of rocks Nestor remembered to introduce himself. With a few gestures and a mixture of elven and dragon language he was able to communicate his name. Nestor Dwyer, Mayor of Arboria.
The little blue dragon, with subtle hints of gold that Nestor could see now that she was so close, responded with a pleased high pitched sound, repeating it over and over again until Nestor realized she was telling him her name.
"Eyo, Eyo, Eyo." She called, until it was almost a song.
Nestor grinned when he realized, and repeated the name, "Eyo, what a lovely name. Well Eyo, you're welcomed into Arboria for as long as you like!"

Character Dimensions: 10" x 11" x 12.5"

Lava Mountain Castle With a SECRET compartment

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 22:01:21 -0500

$100.00
No people rest their weary bones on this mountain's grass. No one wanders amongst the mysteries, sparkling caves are ignored, it's beauty is admired from afar. People wonder if anybody lives there at all, and if they do...why? The mountain spews lava from it's cracks, the heat must be intolerable, the steam, the gases...and yet......and yet a castle stands proudly high upon the top. Some say the molten lava cracked the foundations after the place was built...BUT some say the architects built a castle there when lava already freely flowed...why?
What secret does this mountain hold?
A SECRET COMPARTMENT!
The only thing better than a compartment is a SECRET one. The base is held on with strong magnets so you can stuff your love notes, valuables and collection of rare diamonds in there!

4.75 floz glass compartment dimensions: 2 3/8" depth
1 3/4" diameter opening
Entire Mountain Height: 7.75"

Detailed photos of the mountain face, lava, intricate brick work, secret cave, castle etc, any close-ups and photos from every possible angle are available on request.

Pow the acrobatic clown was FEATURED IN an ART DOLL QUARTERLY

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 22:01:21 -0500

$220.00
Pow is featured in the upcoming Aug/Sept/Oct issue of Art doll quarterly!
MORE photos can be seen at
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=pow_clowngirl&page=19

Character Dimensions: 15"

Petulah Olivia Winifred, acrobatic clown extraordinaire. Her friends, including Leonello and Roland just call her Pow. Torn between a love of dressing up, with glittering stage make-up and big red noses, or high wire acts and fantastic feats of tumbling, Pow decided to incorporate both in to her circus act.
In the air she's a blur of glitter and color as she tumbles across center stage under the big top. Landing gracefully to the thunderous applause of the audience, night after night, she absorbs their enthusiastic appreciation. For Pow, being in the circus isn't just a job, it's her art.

Character Dimensions: 15"

Shayla the Fairy Mouse

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:49:03 -0500

$24.00
LOTS more photos of Shayla can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=mouse_fairy

Character Dimensions in Inches, Including Tail: 2 x 1.5 x 3.5

Shayla's story is the second perspective from a three part story involving 3 different mice.
Part one can be read here:
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=33979962
Part three can be read here:
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=33993194

The fairy mouse Shayla flew through the holiday air on soft feathered wings. Diving low to smell the stuffing, flying high for pumpkin pie. The scents of cranberry swirled seductively nearest the fireplace whilst the back door draft, cool and icy was rich with fragrant pine tree.
From Shayla's airborne perspective not a bit of space in the cozy little house had been spared the aromas of Christmas. Gliding through the invisible clouds of scents was one of Shayla's favorite holiday traditions. Sure there were fairy mouse chores that needed doing, but before visiting each little mouse house and sprinkling her magical blessings, she liked to tour the giant's homes.
Mice were the grandest animals it was known, but the giants sure knew how to cook.
Wings fluttering quickly, she hovered in space and stared at the outside-in tree. Adorned with gleaming, jewel like baubles and long strands of glossy beads it looked as if every branch had been kissed by the holiday spirit. The room lights were turned low, the fire place flames flickered, casting a warm orange glow and shifting shadows over the tree. It was beautiful.
Shayla sighed, happy, her favorite fairy mouse duties were the holiday related ones. Summer was lovely and winter was nice, everything coated in a slick gloss of ice but cozy Christmas and all of it's delicious aromas and beautiful decorations were her favorite.
The only thing that could make this room nicer.... Shalya blinked her dark eyes, wiggled her little pink nose and with a quick mid-air twirl, feather wings blurring with the speed, her little white body seemed to glitter, shimmering with the force of her power as she whispered "Lights."
The tree came to life. The magical glow of lights glittered between the branches. A simple feat for a fairy mouse, and wouldn't the giants be surprised when they came out of their deliciously scented kitchen.
But they weren't the only ones.
Shayla flew closer to the tree, silently hovering in the air and watched the little mouse below. So similar to herself but worlds apart. He of the earthly plane and she of the other side, where fairies dwell. If it were not for her magical wings they could be family, the resemblance was so striking. Shalya glanced down at the sparkling, residual effects of her magic, still faintly covering her otherwise white furry body. Well, almost family, distant cousins at the very least.
Broken from her meandering thoughts by the loud voices and thundering feet of the giants in the other room Shayla shook herself from her daydreams.
The little mouse down below, sleeping peacefully, clutching the golden bell Christmas ornament was completely unaware of his surroundings. The giants thumped closer, heavy feet smacking heavily against the floorboards in the way that giant's walked.
Shayla wiggled her tail, body once more drawing power from the reservoir of fairy magic, glittering in the soft lights of the Christmas tree. She spun once more and the little golden bell let loose from the tree branch it hung on. The sleeping mouse awoke with a start, blinking in bewilderment. Sitting dazed on the floor in the shadow of the prettily decorated outside-in tree, his golden bell treasure rolling away with the gentle assistance of Shayla and her fairy mouse magic.
The earthly mouse instinctively followed, away from the tree and prying eyes of the giants. Already their loud voices exclaimed over the mystery of the tree lights blazing.
Shalya smiled, perfectly pleased with herself and her fairy mouse duties, as the pink tail, so much like her own disappeared from sight, chasing the little golden bell.
There was no chance of the giants seeing her, at most their eyes might catch an extra sparkle near the tree top, they'd think it a trick of the eye.
Shayla flew away through cinnamon scented air, a holiday job well done for a little fairy mouse. Indeed.

LOTS more photos of Shayla can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=mouse_fairy

Character Dimensions in Inches, Including Tail: 2 x 1.5 x 3.5

P.U. Pil the 8 Eyed Monster

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:49:02 -0500

$55.00
Character Dimensions: 5.5" x 5" x 3.75"

P.U. Pil was startled awake by his own rumbling snores. When they got that loud it was usually time to get up. He yawned, a truly magnificent yawn that threatened to engulf his entire face, hauling himself sleepily upright amongst tangled covers. He blinked, and blinked and blinked his tired eyes, scratched his head, his ear and then reached around back to give his tail a quick tug. Sleeping on it tended to make it fall asleep too. And with pins and needles goosing him out of bed he hopped up, ready to launch himself into his morning routine.
Which pretty much consisted of scratching his other ear and pulling on his favorite pair of socks. P.U. reflected on the fact they were his only pair of socks. In fact, and he was quite proud of this, he was the only Monster in his entire village who owned a pair of socks, period. As he was the only person in the last 3 years to have direct contact with a human, the results of which ended with scaring the socks off them....
Nightmares for the humans but a wonderful windfall for P.U.
He'd been wearing them every day since, faithfully sliding them over his feet every morning before going out to forage for breakfast.
Some of the other Monsters teased that they could smell P.U. coming before they saw him. But it wasn't P.U.'s fault the screaming human, the one who'd jumped out of his socks, hadn't stopped to tell him about washing. It wasn't his fault that there wasn't even a word in the whole of Monster language, archaic manuscripts included, that meant *wash*.
And so he happily donned, for the 1209th day in a row, his human socks over his Monster feet.
Living in a cave has it's advantages. Monsters had tried many places, throughout Monster history, to make their little abodes. Under bridges, under beds, under giant toadstools, underground and under the open skies above, but no place had ever been as perfectly suited for a Monster's needs like a cave. It was easy to get into, dark and damp, just the way P.U. liked it. There were bats to keep him company, cave slimes to snack on, the occasional bear to snuggle and best of all, complete and utter darkness for when he wanted to sleep.
The one disadvantage being the complete lack of windows. Making his way across the smooth stone, seeing perfectly well in the dark with his super sensitive eyes, P.U. waddled across the cave and around the bend to the opening.
He paused when he saw the light spilling in. A harsh beam of pure sunlight stabbing into his cozy dark home. He stopped, palms resting against the ground beneath him and sighed heavily.
Overhead the bats that clung to the ceiling fluttered their wings, disturbed by P.U.'s dismay as much as his breath.
Sunshine, again. They'd been having this terrible weather for weeks now and it was growing wearisome. Some of the other Monsters, the contrary ones in P.U.'s opinion, actually LIKED the sunshine. P.U., couldn't help but notice though that they didn't have 8 eyes like himself, all used to the beautiful silky darkness of a cave. They didn't feel every speck of sunlight like a stab to the head, forcing their eyes closed under the weight of that brilliant heat. Aggghh, the sun.
There were days P.U. wondered what use it was. But then he'd remember the wonderful pungent plants that grew along the river bank. The ones he liked to chew on for breakfast and sometimes for lunch, the ones that grew thickest and heartiest in the places the sun reached the most...and he could admit, grudgingly, that the sun had some uses.
Making his way to the entrance of the cave the sun beams reached in, like long fingers, sliding over P.U.'s skin. Revealing the hints of shimmering green that even years of good honest cave livin' hadn't been able to hide. P.U. ducked his head, already feeling the too bright glare bothering his eyes. Especially the left one, the bottom left one, and the right one, the upper right one and the one above the middle left one...arggghh, they all hated the sun. And unfortunately P.U.'s attempts to make custom fitted Monster sunglasses had been a dismal failure, 5 lenses were almost doable, 8 was a disaster. And sun hats, the big brimmed ones the other Monsters had urged on P.U. out of concern for his eyes and an eagerness to halt his sun focused grumbles just weren't his style. When the other Monsters rolled their eyes at that, snickering at P.U.'s odd fashion sense, P.U., just rolled his eyes right back at them, all 8 eyes. That usually shut them up. It wasn't his fault he didn't look good in a hat...now if they only made eye socks.....
P.U.'s stomach growled, reminding him he'd yet to have breakfast and the bats rustled nervously overhead once more. The grumbles echoed off the cave walls and P.U. sighed and the bats decided to retreat further to the back rather than risk more exposure to Monster morning breath.
It was too early in the morning for work, but work he had to do.
And bracing himself he ducked his head and pulled himself out into the direct sunlight, with a grab of his powerful hands, swinging his legs forward, cringing as the light surrounded him. His eyes blurred, they blinked and the world became a brightly lit series of still images as the eyes tried their best to blink away the light.
He wasn't going far, just enough to see the sky. So P.U. plunked his tail end down on the warm rocks in front of the cave entrance and risked a quick peek upwards. The endless perfect blue seemed to stretch forever. Well that was just great, just freakin' fantastic, of all the bad luck. He shook his head in disgust and slammed all 8 eyes shut for a moment, willing his brain to wake up, because they had work to do.
With one large hand doing it's best to shade the sun from his eyes, P.U. reached out with the other. Beckoning towards that too perfect, annoying blue. Frustration and hunger slowed him down. But eventually, after muttering a few choice Monster words that dare not be spoken amongst polite company, Monster or otherwise, P.U. saw what he wanted.
The tiniest wisp of white. The tiniest mar of imperfection against the blue sky.
There might have been those who happened to glance up at the same sky at the same time and saw that bit of cloud coming as ominous. When P.U.'s red eyes laid upon it, his heart sang with joy and his belly accompanied it with thunderous growls of approval.
The clouds were coming. There were days they could be stubborn, taking their slow sweet time crossing the sky, but P.U. didn't mind that too much actually. There were days he could be stubborn too, and just so long as they were coming....
They gathered in strength, the tiny feathery wisps clumping, forming giant puffs that filled the sky like popcorn.
Their shadows slid along the ground, quietly edging over grass and rock, leading towards P.U., where he waited.
He beckoned with his fingers and they moved faster and soon half the little valley was in shadow. When they were close enough he no longer had to squint, he lowered his hand and beamed happily. Smile spreading from armpit to armpit.
The clouds hovered overhead like eager white puff puppies happy to obey his every command.
Their shade enveloped P.U. like a cool hug and he was so happy he roared, a great thundering roar that bounced and crashed against the rocks behind him.
What had started out as a perfectly rotten day was now looking pretty good. Hefting himself to his socked feet P.U. started down the gravel path towards the river. Stinkweed and Thornberries were on the menu for breakfast.
Socked feet kicking up dust he hummed, a monstrously off key sort, aided by cozy shadows across the valley to where breakfast grew.

Character Dimensions: 5.5" x 5" x 3.75"

Miss Whistler the Faux-Bot Robot

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:49:01 -0500

$35.00
Character Dimensions:
Shoulder width: 3.75"
Body not including arms: 2.5" x 2.5" x 6.75"

Every evening, late late into the evening there's a particular flock of birds hanging around the neighborhood who like to croon their little birdy love songs. Birds, I take it, do not have clocks....
Which is why birds are brilliant, they take every bit of progress, technology and rigorous structure that humans have created and they ignore it...tweeting their little hearts out in suspiciously car alarm sounding tones at 1, 2 and 3 in the morning. I have grown quite used to it and in truth on the rare occasion their beaks are still, I notice and am puzzled.
Recently I heard the most peculiar warbling that I, like the birds, flew to the source of. Ears cocked, head tilted and eyes whipping about looking for where the strange series of beeps and elongated trilling whistles were coming from.
Oddly musical it was fascinating for sure but quite mysterious, as it sounded for all the world like a bird had swallowed a cell phone...or two.
Odder still, as I walked around from room to room, pressing my face against the window screens, peering out into the dark, I began to feel as if I was being played with. An inadvertent childish game of "hot and cold" was taking place. If I went to one room the whistles grew softer.....further apart....if I went to my craft room they struck up in an endless wave of sound.
If I walked straight to my drawers of Faux-Bot Robot parts the whistles became almost piercing..... I don't need a Faux-Bot Robot to bonk me over the head to realize what was happening. Another robot was waiting to be made....only she got tired of waiting, and let me know through her whistles that she was there...sort of...partly...literally in parts, waiting for more physical existence.
Who am I to put off a fellow being's physical existence?
I whistled under my breath as the latest Faux-Bot came to life under my hands. Obviously feminine, with her striped skirt and curvy body. A sweet little gold cap on her head and metal puffed sleeves and she was looking fine.
She must have agreed, for when she first opened her eyes, even the oddly elongated one, and saw her own reflection in the mirror I provided she hummmed, ticked for a second before whistling the most classic of whistles. Apparently pleased with herself.
I am not fluent in whistle, but some things are universal.
Like her fellow Faux-Bot friend, Turvee, Miss Whistler enjoys spinning. It must be a robot thing as I get awfully dizzy myself. She hovers above my work surface and glides across, executing complicated spins.
So far I have learned many of Miss Whistler's likes and dislikes...and ohhh yes there are dislikes. It's hard to ignore the traffic stopping, police whistle sounding shrill beep she emits when introduced to something she deems hideous. Like shoelaces (go figure), dust bunnies (they offend her for some reason) and opera.
I had thought I was being clever playing my favorite opera music for Miss Whistler, thinking it was her style...but...my ear drums can attest to the fact it was most definitely NOT!
She prefers Big Band and the occasional bout of heavy metal. A ha...at least part of that makes a lot of sense.

Character Dimensions:
Shoulder width: 3.75"
Body not including arms: 2.5" x 2.5" x 6.75"

Jupiter the Faux-Bot Robot Ornament

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:49:00 -0500

$25.00
Character Dimensions: 4.5" x 3" x 6.5"

Jupiter hangs around my head, orbiting me and my thoughts.
It's impossible not to think of Jupiter, impossible not to have him flitting through your mind when he's constantly flying by at eye level. And humming, a strange mix of motor and music.
And just like a large planetoid mass, people gravitate towards Jupiter. It's not that his gravitational pull is any stronger than the average Faux-Bot robot's, but that his personality is like a magnet. Drawing any one in the vicinity near so that they can make the acquaintance of the charming little robot.
He says it's his natural charisma.
I find that funny, being that he's as un-natural a creature as ever there were.
No offense to Jupiter but you don't find Faux-Bots growing on trees in the rain forest, or popping up in the potato fields of Prince Edward Island. Nope, Jupiter and his kind are not born of anything except imagination. But, I will admit he's quite the charmer. A sweet mix of metal and magic. Though I suspect his personality is something he downloaded instead of inherited.
Of all the Faux-Bot robots I've had the pleasure of meeting Jupiter is the funniest. That guy is always ready with a joke. Jupiter is fascinated by laughter. He likes nothing better than to crack a person up so that he can listen to their laugh and analyze the components of the moment. I've found little spreadsheets, in his neat and precise robot handwriting, laying about the house detailing his thoughts on laughter. How he fit a good joke, excellent timing, and humor on to a pie graph still puzzles me even though I saw it with my own eyes.
Sometimes as Jupiter hovers about my head, humming and muttering to himself I catch a few words here and there. Often he sounds like he's making lists. Banana peels, whip cream, gaseous releases, mud puddles and laugh tracks. That's one of the lists I hear him repeat quite often. A mantra, he mutters it like a low key little rap in tune with his humming. I suppose he thinks those are elements of humor.
The other day I came across Jupiter playing stand-up comedian for his Faux-Bot friends. Well, he wasn't standing so much as mid-air hovering, but you know what I mean. If it hadn't been for the synchronized laughter that erupted from his friends on occasion I would never have known that Jupiter was even telling jokes. Seeing as how he was doing them old school. Way, way, waaaaaay old school.
"01001011 01101110 01101111 01100011 01101011 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01100011 01101011"
Yeah, old school as in binary code. Strangest knock knock joke I EVER heard....not to mention longest.

Character Dimensions: 4.5" x 3" x 6.5"

Castle topped mountain with a secret compartment

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:48:26 -0500

$180.00
Castle topped mountain height: 10.5" tall

Mysterious mountains with strange features have been puzzling people for as long as they stood. Who dared make their home in such an intimidating location? What reasons did they have for the stone structures that dot the landscape? Strange caves, a face carved in the rock...nature or human made? Or something else? The soft grass on a hillside is a lovely place to lay and consider the answers to these questions, under the shade of a tree or in the shadow of a castle. A perfect place to dream about it's secrets...

and the secret?

Ohhhhhhh, this mountain has a secret compartment!!!
The only thing better than a compartment is a SECRET one. The base is held on with strong magnets so you can stuff your love notes, valuables and collection of rare diamonds in there!
4.75 floz glass compartment
Dimensions: 2 3/8" depth
1 3/4" diameter opening

Penguin and Child Ornament

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:48:17 -0500

$25.00
The penguin and his child......

I can't write their names as so far penguins are keeping any writable alphabets a penguin secret. Who can blame them? And to speak their language...well I'm sure I'd butcher it...
So we communicate through looks.
And if I'm understanding correctly, from what I see, looking into the icy frozen home of the penguin and his child, they're happy.
Full of fish, content upon the ice....the child keeping warm on it's father's feet.
Ahhh, penguin love.

character dimensions:
Round Medallion:3"

Ack-Ahmnotem the Mummy

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:47:50 -0500

$180.00
Over FORTY more photos of Ack-Ahmnotem can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=mummy_ackahmnotem

Character Dimensions: 12" x 8" x 13.5"

The museum was many miles behind us but the exhibits still played through my mind. I enjoy a museum like that, where the displays seem to linger, images seared into the brain raising questions and ideas long after the doors are shut and you're driving back home.
"They always show Mummies coming to life in the movies." I finally said.
"Hmmm," My husband answered, he was half asleep, head against the passenger door, for all of 2 seconds. The swiftness of his waking up startled me. His head raised and his voice was filled with dismay. "I left my wallet on top of the wall."
"What?" I asked, confused. But just as suddenly I knew exactly what he was talking about, exactly what wall and how he could come to have left his wallet there. When you travel with out a tripod you'll use anything to prop the camera for just the right angle. So while we had the perfect photo of us in the museum parking lot, compliments of the best photographer in the world, the self-timer, we were short one wallet.
"Well bright side of this I get to do a u-turn and we can console ourselves with ice cream from the next convenience store we see." We grinned at each other, swung the car in the direction we just came and drove back to the museum. The sun setting at our backs, the road darkening.
The gravel of the parking lot crunched under the wheels of the car as the headlights swung across the empty lot. The building was closed up tight for the night, darkened but for the weak yellow security lights. I took the liberty of parking near where we'd posed for the photo, just a few hours earlier. Car lights cutting through the darkness we could see it already. One innocuous square lump of leather sitting on a brick wall, we heaved sighs of relief and got out of the car.
The air had the heavy damp feeling of night, as if the darkness was an actual physical weight, but at least it was warm.
We got out of the car and stood for a moment, stretching our legs, breathing in the peace and quiet until that moment happened. The one where the soft cozy feeling of peace slowly twists the nerves. I shivered, and glanced nervously about.
"Does something feel....different?" I asked, my voice harsh and loud in the night after the silence of a few moments before.
My husband glanced around, back towards the closed museum and before he could answer the security lights dimmed.
"That's weird." He said, and I agreed.
We watched together, standing in the puddle of light spilling from the car and saw as the museum's security lights dimmed and dimmed until there was only the faintest glowing.
"The bulbs burnt out? Maybe?" It was the only thing I could think of.
I squinted my eyes straining to read the expression on my husband's face when my brain finally clicked into gear. "The car!" I tried not to sound as wildly panicked as I suddenly felt but the headlights had dimmed so gradually and low that I could barely see my husband just a few yards away.
It was then that the temperature dropped. I mean fell so fast that one moment warm damp air enveloped me and the next it felt like I was breathing jagged ice. I shivered, holding my arms tight and scuttled closer to my husband.
"What the?" I didn't even know how to phrase the question, to verbalize what was happening. But something was happening. The air around us grew colder, I was covered in goosebumps, clutching my husband's arm, eyes adjusting to the dark. No longer surrounded in harsh yellow headlights but just the weak, silvery light of the moon overhead. Our breathing puffed out in twin clouds, it couldn't be, shouldn't be that cold...but it was.
With worried thoughts about a dying car battery and being stranded in the parking lot of a middle of nowhere museum, we turned towards the car.
The sound of a moan cutting through the frigid air froze us in our spot. Heads turned, hearts beating, hands clutching each other until our fingers were knotted together. Before we could question aloud what we were hearing, the moan happened again. Not animal....human? Was there the hint of words in that long tortured sound? Impossibly, as the moan grew louder the air grew colder still. Our teeth chattered and for a moment the insanity, of shivering violently on what was moments a go a warm summer night, distracted my mind from the other sounds disturbing the darkness.
The foot steps. The dragging crunch of gravel just on the other side of the brick wall. Too loud to be animal, too evenly spaced and now...too close.
"We should go." I whispered.
"My wallet." My husband whispered back and we stared in horror to where we knew it lay on the wall.
I wanted to say 'Leave it.' I almost laughed out loud, what kind of state were we getting our selves worked in to here? A few hours ago this was a fun touristy spot, and now a few odd things like dimming lights and extreme cold and I was considering driving off and leaving the wallet.
We crept forward, I winced as we walked. Every step we took was like an explosion of sound. It was impossible to move quietly on the gravel. My ears strained, the wallet seemed further away than ever, impossible to see in the dark. We edged closer to the brick wall, a shadowy hulking shape in the dark, thinly lit by the moon.
It was my husband who was closet. Who reached out and laid his hand on the wall, I heard the rough sound of his palm sliding over brick, feeling his way in the dark to find his wallet. His hiss of exasperation puffed out in a white cloud, I shivered and laid my palm on the wall. The brick icy cold, and began feeling for the wallet as well.
There's a feeling you get when you bump into a stranger. An instant sense of 'oops, pardon me' before you can even fully understand what just happened an apology leaps to the tip of the tongue.
When my hand bumped fingers, I knew it wasn't my husband and in the fraction of a second before my brain signaled my mouth to scream I almost apologized for the intrusion. The fingers were icy cold, hard and leathery. They turned and before I could draw a breath they gripped my hand.
I screamed then, and I saw my husband swing around from his end of the wall, still searching for the wallet. I batted in front of me, hands grazing tangled threads and crispy linens. The dusty scent of age and rotten material filled my nose. I screamed again, the grip on my hand weakened and miraculously the car lights brightened.
I could have yanked my hand away, the grip was slack enough but so was my entire body. I stared face to...face...inches from an impossibility.
Eyes glittered with some emotion I couldn't name. I heard my husband's indrawn breath of alarm, his feet digging into the gravel as he launched towards us. The creature seemed to shrink away, blinking in the glare of the lights and I heard it hiss, "Mine." but the way the words drug out his mouth full of gleaming teeth it sounded like "Minnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnne."
"What? What?" I asked, desperatly trying to tug away from his grasp, the bony fingers seeming to find new strength. I was glad of the wall between us as the car lights dimmed once more and the thing...the person that was no longer quite a person, wrapped in greying rags, hissed once more, "Minnnnnnnne. The offfffffffffffffeeeeeeeeerrrrinnnnng...."
My husband's hands clamped on my shoulder tugging me away. For a moment we all stood, the 3 of us forming a triangle. It, the creature on the other side of the wall and my husband and I. Maybe we should have already been running but it made no more advances. Just reached out with desperate hands clutching ineffectually at the air, as if the wall was some great inpenetrable barrier.
I heard my husband's whisper of "What IS that? From the museum? A....MUMMY?"
I don't think I'd blinked at all in the last five minutes which now felt like five hours.
The mummy stared back with unblinking eyes as well, until finally they lowered and settled on the wall. I squinted and could just barely make out my husband's wallet.
"Noooo way. It thinks your wallet is an offering!" I suddenly realized. Great, our quick day trip at playing tourist had resurrected a Mummy? That is some serious bad luck!
The mummy was grabbing at the wall, moaning under it's breath the whole time, "Minnnnnnnnnnnnnnne."
I knew we were weighing our options. The difficulty of replacing the entire contents of a wallet versus enciting the wrath of an un-dead creature we'd awakened.
Canceled credit cards versus annoyed thousand year old guy.
My husband edged closer to the wall and reached out to snatch his wallet back. The mummy turned and tried to grab at him, leathery hands just missing the back of my husband's shirt. As it's arms waved, clutching at air the wallet was snatched and we dashed to the car and threw ourselves inside.
Instantly the car lights returned to full. The mummy seemed to shrink under their glare. The security lights of the museum blinked on and the life seemed to drain out of the mummy in front of our very eyes. Standing there, rags fluttering in the wind, the lifeless shell as it had been in the museum just hours before.
My husband started the car, it's engine competed with our harsh and labored breathing.
Sweet relief poured through me as the car moved, for a few moments I'd wondered if we were going to spend the night stuck in the parking lot, locked in our car, coming up with explanations for the museum people as to why one of their most popular exhibits was standing outside.
As we swung the car around I saw the Mummy fully on the other side of the wall. No longer standing straight and arms to it's side but rather caught forever in it's last desperate grab to keep the wallet.
I couldn't help it. I felt bad.....I wondered if it was the wallet in particular or if any offering would do....
I am not a fan of littering, in fact, very much against it, but I impulsively threw my wrist watch out the car window, as we pulled away from the parking lot. I didn't think this counted.
The low moan of the mummy chased us down the road. The shivers racing across our skin as we exchanged a wordless glance in the dim interior of the car had nothing to do with the cold.

Over FORTY more photos of Ack-Ahmnotem can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=mummy_ackahmnotem

Character Dimensions: 12" x 8" x 13.5"

RESERVED FOR Chase

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:47:40 -0500

$35.00
The Philosophy of Kai the Seahorse
LOTS more photos of Kai can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/seahorse_kai.html

Character Dimensions in Inches: 2.5 x 1 x 6

The forest swayed, seeming to dip and bow to music only it could hear. The currents tickled the long grasses, the tree like corals, rushing between the blades of grass. The underwater life mirrored the dry lands above, with slight differences. Like wet, dancing forests.
For Kai, it was the only forest she knew. She'd heard tales of course. Of the dry land, of it's impossible bright lights and mighty plants called trees. Kai, smiled, a widening of the eyes, a faint blush of pink to her cheeks, a smile that another seahorse would easily identify and recognize. The above water creatures could keep their own, she preferred the eternally moist beauty of her home. Comfortably deep beneath the surface.
Another current rushed by, sliding around Kai's slim form, urging her to let go of the grass she clung to. She did so, uncurling her tail, letting her body be swept forward. It was a lovely way to travel, flying through the water, rushing along with the currents, no need for propelling herself. And when she wanted to stop.... Kai spied a familiar clump of coral, a lovely place to cling to, and as the water tried to rush her by she reached out with her tail, gracefully twining it about a blade of grass. The busy current continued on its path and Kai stayed, bobbing gently, laughing as she ignored the insistent tug of waters encouraging her to let go again and join them.
She could never understand what the hurry was, why the waters needed to speed along. Or even where they were going. There were days Kai was tempted, so tempted to just sail away with the currents and see where they lived. A quick flash of silver caught her eye, distracting her from imagining where the moving water's went. Kai turned and watched a small school of fish flit by, bright skins winking and flashing. She twisted, still clinging to her lovely grass, keeping her eyes on the dancing fish. The way they moved, their synchronized motion caught her heart every time. She laid her cheek against the coral and watched, visual music that filled her little seahorse soul with joy.
The school of fish darted away, a silver cloud disappearing behind the dark shelter of a coral stand. Kai wondered if the water currents enjoyed the beauty of the fish, if they saw it all, or if their busy rushing kept them from moments like these.
As if sensing her thoughts the water's pull increased. The grass Kai held on to bent and swayed under the pressure. Kai laughed, a seahorse laugh, a puff of cheeks and toss of her head, wiggling her long nose. The water tickled her body with tiny bubbles, but she held on. Knowing from past experience that it would give up eventually. But she wondered, as she always did, if the waters didn't miss out on lovely clouds of silver fish but actually saw more...more of everything. Things Kai couldn't even imagine.
The current tugged again, Kai loosened her tail, allowing herself to be slipped from the grass. Eyes forward, the unknown ahead, Kai embraced the flow of water, she'd just go and see.

LOTS more photos of Kai can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/seahorse_kai.html

Character Dimensions in Inches: 2.5 x 1 x 6

Mackenzie, King of the raccoons

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:47:32 -0500

$18.00
Character dimensions: 3" x 1.5" x 2.5"

Mackenzie scrambled atop the fallen tree. The new height gave him an advantage, he could see far into the forest, where the light filtered down and revealed rolling mounds of moss.
The old tree upon which he stood had long since tipped over. Padding to the end Mackenzie touched the exposed roots, gray and shiny with the passage of time and exposure to the elements. They appeared almost silver in the afternoon light. He admired the way they speared up out of the ground in a radial burst of twisted roots, ripped from the earth when the tree had fallen. He cocked his head, ears twitching, tail swishing excitedly as his dark eyes glimmered with approval. The roots look like the back of an intricately carved throne.
His throne.
King Mackenzie.
His little paws trailed over the natural elegance of the roots and he sighed with pleasure. Turning he sat on the log, arranging his generous belly in front, and leaned back against the roots. His tail curled around him, regally he thought.
Yes indeed, a perfect throne. A perfect place to rule the lands, a perfect vantage point to survey all that lay before him.
King Mackenzie, King of the woods. Oh yes he liked the sound of that.
He wondered how the others would like the sound of it. He knew he was King after all but so far none of the other raccoons seemed aware that he held such a position of power. It made Mackenzie wonder how they could not notice. How when they foraged for plump juicy berries to wash in the stream that he ate his own share like a King. That his every move was royal, his every gesture courtly.
The others chattered on about the pleasant smell of flowers hanging in the air, about the soft rain that had made the stream rise ever so much higher, about how another tree had fallen down, but none of them never asked about what it was like to be King. Or how he enjoyed being King. It was if they honestly did not know that he was King at all.
Mackenzie raised a furry brow and thought it over, he could hardly order them all to pay attention. He was a just and fair King after all, if they chose to while away their time with all the affairs of raccoons that had nothing to do with his Royal position....well....so be it.
Standing again, Mackenzie peered over the back of his throne, eyes traveling over all his land. Pausing only when he spotted the bright patch of mushrooms in the distance and the shiny red promise of berries just beyond.
Mmmmm, a feast fit for a King.
Scrambling down off his new throne he made his way under the canopy of trees, moving quickly through patches of sunshine and cool shadow. The lone King of the forest, ruler over all of wild kind and known by none. They saw him as a just a raccoon, but Mackenzie knew different.
He was more than just another raccoon, he was King.

Character dimensions: 3" x 1.5" x 2.5"

Cilly the Panda

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:47:32 -0500

$25.00
Character Dimensions: 3" x 3" x 2.5"
Meet Cilly's Panda friend Takeo at:
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=20258606

The afternoon was slipping into evening. I believe they call it dusk, still light enough to see, just dark enough that the faintest twinkle of the brightest stars in the sky were starting to show.
The day had been hot, too hot, the kind of day when you flinch under the relentless glare of the sun and wonder what it's problem is. Did we do something to anger you oh great ball of fire in the sky? It never answers.
But on days like those when the sun grumbles it's way grumpily over the horizon, chased away by cool breezes and washes of fresh night air I go outside.
It's a wonderful time, the birds who all hunkered down in the shade during the day burst with music as night starts creeping in. Louder and crazier than normal, making up for the heat leaden stillness of the day. I walk, underneath their flapping wings and happy calls, down the long drive, enjoying the flowers and grinning at the lizards that are up past their bed time, skittering along as if they think I'm chasing them down. I'm not, not this time.
And so, quietly reflecting and enjoying the moment as I am I become very aware of the low thumpy sound, the crash of something bursting through the bushes on the hill behind me, gathering speed and apparently heading right towards me.
I gape as I make out the form rolling down the hill at incredible speeds. I briefly wonder if the animal is dizzy yet and then my brain reboots and hollers to my limbs "RUN! BEAR! RUN!"
So I run, I dash further down the drive just in time. And I mean JUST IN TIME. I felt the brush of warm fur against the back of my legs and I pivot, mouth still open in wordless shock as I watch in stunned amazement the animal come to a crashing halt at the base of a tree on the other side of the drive.
Silence returns. Complete silence. Even the birds are amazed.
I am wary. Remembering my brain's instinctive and lightning quick warning of "BEAR!".
Retreat seems the best option, running like all get out for the safety of the house seems like a good one too. And I am almost half way to a dash when I hear, "Wooooooooooooooooooooo. That was fun."
Now if the voice from the supposed bear in a heap at the base of the tree had called "Woooooooooo I'm gonna eat you for a snack." I'd have kept running, I am not daft. But hearing a bear call a dizzying roll down a hill through the brush "fun", makes one stop and reconsider one's flight.
"Are you ok?" I ask.
And there was silence.
I stepped closer and saw now that it wasn't your regular run of the mill eat you for dinner sort of bear either. Silly brain, silly safety reflexes. It was a PANDA!
"Hello? Are you ok?" I stepped closer and saw the bright eyes peering up at me, dark little button eyes that glittered with humor and specks of fun. The Panda Bear, sprawled on her back, head against the tree grinned at me in delight.
"Did you see that?" Her voice had the sweet tones of a young Panda.
"Umm, well you were kind of hard to miss. A Panda bear, actually ANY bear rolling down the hill in this neighborhood is gonna grab some attention!"
"Cool huh? I was going sooooooo fast! It's not easy to get going that fast. You gotta find the right hill and then you gotta run right at it and remember to duck and curl up or else when you jump, you just fall. I've done that before." She finished ruefully.
"I bet you have." I said knowingly and we shared another grin. I was assuming she was ok, or as ok as a Panda bear can be if said Panda bear routinely throws herself down hills for the rolly poly thrill of it. Who was I to judge, people throw themselves out of planes. Now that I thought of it a roll down the neighbor's hill seemed a lot safer...and saner.
"I'm Cecila, but nobody calls me that, so you shouldn't either."
"Ahh, ok...."
"I'm Cilly!" She piped up, still apparently at complete ease, sprawled on the ground effectively talking to me over her own round rump.
"Yes, you are, quite silly."
She wrinkled her brow at that. One of her perfectly black little ears twitched before she flung herself backwards and roared with very bear-ish laughter. She didn't have far to fling as she was already sprawled on the ground.
"CILLY, not silly, but maybe I'm both." She finally said.
And what could I do, I agreed. And I lay down beneath the tree and chatted up the silly Cilly Panda Bear who likes to roll down hills for fun.

Character Dimensions: 3" x 3" x 2.5"
Meet Cilly's Panda friend Takeo at:
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=20258606

Vadoma the Gypsy

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:47:21 -0500

$210.00
Vadoma the Gypsy

The Gypsy Vadoma....
A swirling flash of color caught my eye one day..... A vivid blue so bright it almost glowed! And there she was! The gypsy lady, as if from no where. Never have I seen some one look so peaceful whilst whirling and dancing at incredible speeds! So fast that sometimes all I saw was the flashing blue... but I always heard her happy laughter!

character dimensions:
14.5" tall

Edward the struggling poet

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:47:21 -0500

$160.00
Edward's a poet...or says he is....and he certainly looks the part.
Yet despite all his finery and intense expressions I haven't heard any poems from him to date.

The burden of a never ending streaming flow of words in one's brain is that sometimes they log jam.
Piling on top of each other in a twisted web of verbs, lone letters, jammed up with nouns and silly phrases. Bits of half remembered song, a letter you once read in school and the dialogue from last night's tv show.

They form a wall so impenetrable that even the cleverest person wonders if a beaver has got inside their head and built a damn..? The regular, fluid flow of words is lost...they slow to a trickle and what should have come out as "oh darling you're very presence makes my existence worthwhile" falls out as "you good, fun you".

Usually, for most people, a little mental lubrication to start the flow..well..flowing is all that is needed. A jolt of coffee, a bite of super dark chocolate or 10 minutes on a trampoline. Words will pop loose with wild abandon and fall over themselves if you have all three at once.
But for some people, like Edward, the struggling poet...the jam of words becomes a block.

Time passes and everyday poems, bits of song, adjectives and childhood nicknames get pushed up against the jam. The mental pile grows higher, the damn tighter until it's one solid mass of language.

It has a form.

So much speech, bad jokes and bits of alphabet have wedged themselves in there that it's sides grow smooth and uniform.

A block.

A perfect block of text and creativity, color and ideas wedges itself right there in that little spot between your brain and the nerves for your fingers and tongue.
Poor Edward... he tries. But his block has grown so large that he can't see past it. He has to climb over it just to get to his home address, peer under it into the darkness to find where he left his keys.

Poor fellow, suffers from the worst case of writer's block....I think I shall let him use my trampoline....

character dimensions:
9.25" tall

**martini glass for display purposes only.

Samantha and Darren the Bewitching Zombie couple

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:47:00 -0500

$26.00
In sickness and in health...till death do us part...er.....not even in death does this happily married couple get a break from each other. Not that they'd want to, there's nothing a zombie, raised from the dead to become one of the un-dead, likes better than to roam the streets with a body...er...I mean a buddy.

Some one to moan to, groan to and trip over on it's way to get food.....

Some one to support you in sickness and in health, in falling apart...scattering limbs through the street.

Darren and Samantha have been married for more years than they can count....being the typical zombie they can count as high as 1....sometimes 2 if they have a full belly.

But I remember their bewitching romance, their whirlwind marriage, the spark of magic that ignited between these two love birds when ever they were in a room together. Perhaps that's why they've dug in together for the long haul after digging out of their graves, they've got more than just a zombie's insatiable craving for brains...they've got love.

Now they continue their partnership into this new and exciting phase of their life.....on the hunt for pre-frontal cortexes, corpus callosums, cerebellums and of course they ever tasty hippocampus. They're tearing up the streets, the town and the flower beds as they fumble their way about.

This adorable un-dead couple have magnetic personalities.
Each are backed with a 3/4" magnet. Samantha and Darren will stick on your fridge, magnetic message board, metal door frame or toolbox...where ever a little un-dead decor is needed. They can hold down your grocery lists with a touch
of decaying elegance.

Character Dimensions:
Samantha: 1.5" x 2"
Darren: 1.5" x 1.75"

Demetrius the Trespassing Penguin

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:47:00 -0500

$18.00
MORE photos of Demetrius can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=penguin_demetrius

Character Dimensions in inches: 1.75 x 1.5 x 3.25

The penguin was hard to ignore. Though it wasn't that he was really so very different in any way from other penguins I'd laid eyes on before. His gleaming black feathers were standard penguin apparel. His little orange feet, his flightless flippers, his brilliant white chest that lent an air of tuxedoed respectability....all familiar penguiny attributes. No what was eye catching about this particular bird was the way he waddled back and forth across my desk.
I have seen a lot of strange things, but live penguins marching across my work surface is unusual even for me.
"How did you..." I started to ask, pushing away from my keyboard and eyeing the little fellow. He in turn was eyeing my usb cable like it was a potential predator he might have to penguin karate chop any moment if it so much as moved.
"Where's the fish?" The penguin suddenly demanded.
The effect of indignant penguin speech was great, I stumbled back in shock, narrowed my eyes and looked at this trespassing penguin in a whole new light. Literally, I turned on my desk lamp. The soft yellow glow surrounded the penguin who immediately 'ohhhhhed'.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh, a mini sun! Clever, clever human!" It bounced up and down on it's little orange feet and I caught the hint of tail wag, flashing behind him.
"No, yes, I mean no it's not a sun and....who are you and how did you get here and I'm terribly sorry but there's no fish."
The penguin squawked, I wonder if penguin researchers know that penguins sound very much like indignant chickens when the occasion calls for it. He waddled closer, stared up at me with intense, dark eyes and thumped a coal black flipper to his pearly white chest. "I, madam, am Demetrius Penguin. I got here by sea and I am in search of adventure and fish!" He emphasized his last point with a firm little stomp of his feet.
I swallowed a giggle. Angry penguins were so cute, maybe even cuter than temperate penguins, if possible. His words troubled me. "By sea? Really?"
A quick glance out the window assured me the oceans hadn't risen over night, no salty waves lapped against my patio doors.
"Well, sea, bus, horseback, then I walked for a while. Dirt is very hard on the feet, not near as nice as ice and then I flew!" Demetrius, flapped his flippers with excitement glowing in his eyes, a hint of smile playing at the edges of his beak.
"You...flew...ok, Demetrius, you're joking me. Penguins don't fly."
The trespassing little penguin stared up at me with shock. "Well no we don't fly personally but we are excellent hitchhikers! I came by hawk, lovely way to travel. Almost as nice as salty water."
I stared, mouth open. Images flipping through my head in a dazzling kaleidoscope swirl, Demetrius on a bus, Demetrius walking along a dusty highway and....Demetrius held in the strong claws of a hawk, being dropped off on my patio?
I'd accuse my newfound acquaintance of fibbing but....here he was, a hungry, fish craving, usb cable eyeing penguin, waddling on my desktop as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

MORE photos of Demetrius can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=penguin_demetrius

Character Dimensions in inches: 1.75 x 1.5 x 3.25

Moloom the mushroom

Fri, 18 Dec 2009 14:36:58 -0500

$14.00
Character Dimensions: 1" x 1" x 2.5"

The woods don't scare me. Even when I've walked, literally for miles scrambling up steep hills, pine needles caught in my hair, hands grubby from picking up sticks and rocks and pine cones and wild flowers and anything that sat still for more than 3 seconds....I was never scared. The woods, while dark and a little intimidating, a solid wall of trees approached under the hot summer sun, doesn't swallow you up, instead it opens like a warm hug, drawing you deep within it's embrace. The dim light snug and cocoon like as you walk under a roof of crisscrossing tree branches.
The sounds are different, softer, the outside world muted by the wall of trees and so as you venture deeper you hear more. MORE. Not just the twittering of birds, the soft shuffle of deer and skittish hops of rabbits but more. When your ears have become attuned to the woods, when you're deep enough inside that the moss beneath your feet is like carpet, and your feet maybe be the only feet that ever walked there, the creaks of the trees make themselves known.
You can almost imagine they're voices, and when the wind dips low, pushing through the branches as if to shhhh, their chatter, because un-familiar ears are listening you swear you can make out a word or two. The longer you stay in the woods, silent, perhaps making yourself comfortable on the pillowy moss, the earthy scent of decaying leaves and sharp green fill your nose and the woods that had seemed so quiet before sounds like a circus now. The noise is everywhere, and you might wonder was it always there? From the moment you stepped inside? Or is it waking up, becoming used to your presence.
And when a small shrill voice answers your unspoken thoughts, "It's waking up, your second thought. Noisy, noisy, noisy now. Getting used to you. Yep, uh huh. Noisy trees, they never shut up."
So as these words penetrate the fog of incredulity that hovers about your brain you might scream, just a little, and whip your head about wildly until you pinpoint where the tiny, shrill voice and now laughter is coming from.
Sinking low to the moss, your face all but pressed against it, so close you can see now what looked like one continuous green carpet a moment ago is almost like a another forest up close. Made up of individual green plants and you wonder if you could see down beneath it if there'd be another forest, and another.....But the strange voice pulls you from your daydream and you wonder if perhaps this is all a daydream but the shrill voice once again, rudely, interrupts your thoughts.
"Pbbbbbbbt, HA! A Daydream? Are you bonkers?" The tiny red capped mushroom tips back it's...face?!? I stare into beady little eyes in the pale, almost pearlescent...face...it's clearly a face I see there now.
Was that tiny toadstool reading my thoughts?
"No. I'm not." It sounded indignant and I blinked in shock. Then narrowed my eyes. It narrowed it's eyes and so commenced a staring contest. It won.
"Quit calling me it, that's insulting you know. I'm obviously female." The indignant voice tickled at my sanity.
"O.k., yes, obviously female. So sorry, but you're obviously reading my mind too!!!!"
The red capped mushroom pulled itself up out of it's cushy mound of moss and where I had expected to see......well...nothing there were tiny feet. She hopped close, settling down into the moss until once more she was planted comfortably.
"It's not reading......it's.....it's just like talking. Only you're using your inside voice, and I'm using my outside voice. I'm not reading anything, mushrooms and toadstools aren't big on paper. It deteriorates too fast. We're much more into oral stories."
I struggled to process what she was saying and somewhere, inside my head, somewhere to the left, which surprised me as I didn't think I had any sense of direction for matters of thought from within my brain I heard that same shrill voice but with my head and she said, "Hellooooooo in there. See, inside voice."
When next she spoke the words were for my ears. "Out side voice. See? Reading? HA!"
I grinned at my new friend, whilst a little confusing she was without a doubt amusing. So much attitude in a tiny shroom package. I wondered if she was the only one of her kind or if there were more...
"Didn't I tell you WE liked oral stories? Not so very bright are you?" Her *outside* voice was filled with laughter and I grinned again, but sheepishly.
"Well come on, I'll introduce you around." Uprooting herself once more, I followed carefully behind my new friend, cautiously crawling over the moss, very wary now. I didn't want to trample any mushroom folk.
I barely had begun to wonder what her name was when the inside voice sounded in my head, again from the left. "Moloom, my name is Moloom."
Ahh, a lovely name for a mushroom.
"Thanks!" She answered cheerfully........in her outside voice.

Character Dimensions: 1" x 1" x 2.5"

Meet Moloom's cousin Looloom here:
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=17828701

Himesh the Penguin

Fri, 18 Dec 2009 14:36:58 -0500

$18.00
MORE photos of Himesh can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=himesh_penguin

Character Dimensions: 2" x 1.75" x 3"

Himesh the penguin loves the sea. Chasing streaks of silvery fish through icy waters. For you and I, we'd be turning blue and shivering, but for Himesh a dip in the ocean is a bracing way to start lunch. I can't imagine it...but Himesh can. He not only imagines a crystalline world of jagged ice and steel grey waters he lives there every day.
Walking worn paths along an iceberg's edge. Scanning the waves with sharp eyes. Breathing in frosty air he swells with pride, penguin patrolmen Himesh. At your service, well at the penguin's service.
It's Himesh's job to be on the lookout. No penguin enemies will sneak past him. Not while Himesh is on patrol, waddling with command, back and forth across the crunchy snow.
The other penguins bark greetings to Himesh, who relents in his duties only slightly. Raising one flipper in a quick "howdy" penguin style, gesture. But he never slacks from his task at hand, which is the very reason Himesh was head penguin patroller in the first place. His relentless, unwavering dedication to protecting penguin kind, it's a sight to behold.
It's not hard to spot Himesh amongst his penguin friends and family, despite the similarities amongst the birds, Himesh stands out. He's the one with his chest puffed with pride, a little away from the group. He's the one whose gaze is constantly moving, the one pointing to schools of fish like a conductor of an orchestra, signaling the penguins to dive en masse into the ocean. A chorus of happy cheers swells up as Himesh waves, the penguins dive and the water splashes, music to Himesh's ears.
Himesh isn't all work though. In his free time he likes to waddle as fast as he can to the slippery slope of ice near the water's edge. Once close enough he dives, belly first, tobogganing down the slick surface until he hits the salty water with a terrific splash. The water's embrace can't hold Himesh back as he torpedos through the salty sea, feet kicking, diving as deep as he dare. Little penguin heart beating with exhilaration.
The water's cold, but not too cold for Himesh, his body is well insulated. Below the surface is another world, birds of the sky might mock Himesh's kind for their lack of flight but there's no denying who could swim the best. Sea gulls hovering in the air, chattering on in harsh voices were easily ignored by submerging beneath the surface, they might duck their heads but no one swam as deep as a penguin!
Under the water the world becomes soft and grey, the light from above filtering past jagged hunks of ice streams down, in thin beams. Himesh circles low, admiring the glassy surface of the iceberg below.
As slow and awkward as maneuvering about on land is, under the water is completely different. Every move Himesh makes is fluid, he imagines himself as liquid as the water, swimming gracefully for what seems like forever.....until it's time to surface. Time to make his way back to his post. Time to strut his penguin stuff on the edge of an icy world on the look out for friend and foe.

Character Dimensions: 2" x 1.75" x 3"

Arthur the Angel

Fri, 18 Dec 2009 14:36:06 -0500

$80.00
Oh what a heavenly character Arthur is.
His sweet nature is apparent in a kind smile and gentle eyes. I've found him to be a fountain of knowledge if I ask the right questions. But when I asked him how he got so wise he just grins, silent, with a twinkle in his eyes. We've had many lovely conversations about everything from proper flying techniques to crab apple jelly and poetry about snails.

character dimensions:
8.5" tall

The sort of Stocking you fill with chocolates....

Thu, 17 Dec 2009 17:30:51 -0500

$35.00
LOTS more photos of this stocking can be sen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=stocking_greenchocolate

(stocking measurements are given after the text)

I knew even before my head hit the pillow that there'd be chocolate in the morning. There had to be, because if there wasn't....
Well, that's not even a possibility I want to consider. A stocking like that is a magnet, I knew setting it out at the appointed time that chocolate would fill it to the brim. It had to.... It would settle into every nook and cranny, find it's way into all the secret pockets and practically spill out of the top. Beautiful, plentiful mounds of chocolate, dark, milk, mint, nutted...every kind.
I could imagine it in perfect, dark, creamy, melt in your mouth detail as my eyes drifted shut.
Taking comfort in it's presence, nearby, just around the corner, hanging from the fireplace. A perfect place, noticeable....especially to those who'd come bearing chocolate. And soon it would be empty no more but instead hanging heavy on it's cord. It's purpose in life fulfilled as it's filled.
Would I hear? If a gold, foil wrapped piece tumbled from the brimming cuff and fell to the floor below? Would I awake in time to tiptoe out, to hear the crinkly, colorful little packages settling still, arranging themselves in the cozy confines of the stocking? Surely I would.
Darkness begins to envelop me, I hear the creak of the roof. The impossible scent of peppermint wafts through the house. Dream images begin to flit through my mind, a jumbled collage of chocolate and colored lights. Of sparkly ornaments and warm fires, cuddly quilts the perfect stocking and endless handfuls of chocolate....

Total length of stocking from cuff to toe: 22"
Total width from heel to toe: 13.5"
Width of just the cuff: 8"
Depth inside the stocking: 14"

Depth of outside pockets:
1.5"to 3" depth for front bottom pocket
6.5" depth for upper front pocket
6.5" depth for pocket on back of stocking

please note the fur is faux. :)

Mister CH Ambord

Wed, 16 Dec 2009 14:57:29 -0500

$120.00
May I please introduce you to Mister C.H. Ambord.
He's a wonderful friend! A bit of a traveling man in his day Mr.Ambord was, so he's got plenty of tales to delight! He certainly has a way with the ladies... he says it's his bow tie but I suspect it's his old fashioned charm. He likes nothing better than to while away summer afternoons drinking blackberry tea with raspberry cookies. And if you provide the cookies so much the better, he'll provide the stories!

character dimensions:
8" tall

Apollo-Luna the Winged Feline

Wed, 16 Dec 2009 14:57:00 -0500

$25.00
Apollo-Luna, his friends just call him AL, is the most unique cat there ever was. Sure he can fly, but did you ever see such a handsome boy? AL often takes advantage of the moonlight to serenade the ladies with his masculine music, yodeling in the cool light on the highest branches of a tree.
Sure any ol' cat could have climbed there but he flew, as graceful as any bird, to bask in the moonlight and the adoration of his fans.

Round Medallion:3.25"
Length of branch: 5"

Apollo-Luna is hand sculpted and the pretty moon scene behind is hand painted.

Night Dragon Ornament

Wed, 16 Dec 2009 14:56:59 -0500

$25.00
Gar Nod of the Night....

Gar Nod is one of the elusive night dragons.
A peaceful species, distant relations of the common earth lizards. Fifth cousins twice removed, or something like that. Though there's nothing common about Gar Nod, she awakens as the sun sets. Vivid colours painting the sky, reflecting in her shimmering scales.
Lights flicker on, slowly, one by one in the city below and Gar Nod stretches her wings. As the world slumbers she awakens and soars through the night sky, moonlight on her skin, absorbing the life giving starlight.
Invisible by day Gar Nod is but a streak of iridescent colour in the sky at night....in fact you may have seen her....mistaking her
for a falling star.

character dimensions:
Width incl. branch:4.5"
Medallion body:3"

Oron the Frankenstein

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 18:13:28 -0500

$180.00
Character Dimensions: 8" X 6" X 8.5"

He was not born, but awakened. There was no gradual awareness of life, no slowly collected memories that grew into maturity. He simply wasn't and then he was. On the stormiest of days he has half remembered memories of dreams. A strange kaleidoscope of thoughts, all in foggy grays. Of places he'd never been, and faces he'd never seen and even flavors of food he'd never laid eyes, let alone tongue, on. The dreams hurt, so he ignored them. They were from before anyways and this was now. And NOW he was Oron.
Despite appearances Oron is a very happy soul. Despite well thought out arguments Oron does indeed have a soul. No creature, or being so sweet, could ever be considered soulless. One only has to look past the green skin into dark, bottomless eyes to see the gentle sparkle of life twinkling back at them. The same eyes that look at the world with all the innocence of infancy.
Oron knew he was young, days old in fact. His creator had showed him the numbers, all laid out in neat little squares, circling the day of awakening in a fat red tipped marker. Red, Oron had seen the numbers and suddenly he knew of days, or he remembered them. And he knew what it meant to be days old, but it was the lovely red marker that fascinated him. And he had scribbled and scrawled over reams of crisp white paper, provided by the creator, until the marker had run dry. And Oron had cried, and knew loss.
Sadness was only fleeting though. Like the shadow of a bird racing across the grass outside. It was there, recognized, the familiar weight of grief settled upon his shoulders like heavy hands only to slip away as fast as it came. There was too much to explore to stay sad. And so Oron smiled, a little lopsided though he did not even know what that meant yet, mirrors not existing in his world.
Everything was new and fresh and yet oddly familiar. Everything he touched felt like meeting a stranger who quickly became an old friend. The window glass, cold and slick beneath his hands. The smaller fingers traced the raindrops that ran down outside, the larger pressed, palm flat against glass, absorbing the coolness. Oron did not see the difference in sizes, they were just his hands and had always been that way for as long as he'd remembered. Days.
There were things to smell, everything had to be smelled. The wooden shelves and books full of pages and pages full of words. Oron spent a happy hour pressing his nose amongst the pages, trying to see if the words smelled different than the paper. He did not even realize when he began reading. The words just slipped into his brain and began making sense.
Everything was fascinating, there was so much texture and color and sound to behold that at times he spun in dizzying circles, grinning as widely as possible, from the sheer magnitude of EVERYTHING. Heart thumping at the excitement and pure joy of being alive with so many wonderful things to explore. Light switches that clicked, carpeting soft under his toes, birds whistling, an inquisitive mouse that ran from his clumsy fingers when he'd only wanted to pet. To see if it's silvery fur was as soft as it looked.
The world was ever expanding, each breath Oron drew, each moment he existed, brought only more delights. One room led to another, to another and when they ended there were walls. Some hard and wood like the shelves, others bright with color, he trailed his hand along the smooth surfaces, fingers traveling over window frames until the abrupt and startling sensation of fabric caught his attention. And instantly he was whisked away for hours, reveling in the nubbly, new texture of fabric. And he repeated the word, whispered "fabbbbbbbricccc" in awe as he snuggled the panels close to his body. He could stay snuggled in the curtains forever, for more than days.
The creator offered things. New things, wonderful things, more "fabbbbbricccccc" the creator called "clothes". And as tempting as they were, as soon as Oron reached out with trembling fingers for his new "clothes" he was distracted. The lights on the ceiling needed staring at, the hallways needed running. He galloped up and down them, giggling with joy at the thunderous slam of his feet hitting the floor. He ran from room to room and he didn't even realize he KNEW they were rooms.
He ignored the happy sighs of the creator, clothes forgotten, in his quest to experience everything.
As time passed he did not grow but his mind did. His vocabulary, his understanding of the workings of the world around him.
Oron could quote poetry, sometimes from books he'd never read. He discussed the meaning of life, the stars in the sky and the infinite wonders of a single flute playing heart melting music on crisp winter's nights.
He developed interests, though truth be told everything interested Oron, but some things seem to leap out at him and became his passions. The first time he tasted soda, bubbles dancing on his tongue he sang, the first time he tossed the empty can into the recycling bin he was taken over by more than the physical world around him, but by a concept. Recycling. Oron became very passionate about recycling.
The concept of reusing materials to make new things, the irony was lost on him for a long while. All he knew was that he didn't just like the idea he LOVED it. And spent many a happy hour sorting through the trash, marveling over each scrap of paper and bit of tin that would become something new. He imagined. He created new ideas in his own mind, picturing what those items would become, and he imagined more than you or I could ever see a simple bit of paper becoming.
To this day Oron is much the man he was. The one he awakened into being. Intelligence and childlike curiosity makes him a delightful companion to spend time with over a cup of lapsang souchong tea. Oron's favorite. Every day Oron is more than he was the day before. Brimming with new ideas, new thoughts, new concepts, new philosophies and new ambitions. He yearns to drive, and can be found curled up in front of the fire place at night time devouring the driver's handbook. He researches hybrid cars, and lusts after a set a wheels he can call his own. He sketches designs on scraps of papers, and he and the creator talk of building their own car from bits and pieces they will salvage from the junk yard. Oron dreams of it, the new vehicle that does not exist yet and whispered aloud, "It'll be a hodge podge." The creator was startled, until laughter erupted between the pair. And Oron now knew irony.
Despite his grand designs and desires Oron remains much the same. The man who was created to feast on the world, and all the delights it offered. Nothing taken for granted, no moment of simple beauty and pleasure escapes his notice.
In the early days there was a moment when he saw his first flower. Plucked from the gardens outside, on a day when the sun still hurt his eyes and he crept into the shade under a tree. Under the watchful eyes of the creator, Oron held the tiny bloom in his big hands, cradling it. And he sighed. As did the creator.
Taking time to smell the flowers is not a casual cliche in Oron's life. It is his life.

Character Dimensions: 8" X 6" X 8.5"

Hissy the angry kitty

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 15:15:32 -0500

$14.00
character dimensions:
1.25" x 1" x 0.9"

Hissy the Kitty...
You know those days where everything just goes wrong? Well unfortunately for old Red here... this is one of those days. Things are not going his way and he's not afraid to let any one know how angry he's feeling. I've never heard a kitty hiss and spit so much! If he could talk I'm sure he'd be shouting "LOOK AT ME I'M MAD!!!!!!" But don't mind him, I suspect he secretly enjoys all the attention.
Why else would he deliberately walk by the other cats he pretends to hate. Deliberately giving a quick sniff to their ears, provoking them to recoil in shock. Then, when Hissy feels justified, when he sees the look on their faces he flattens his own ears in annoyance and....hissssssssssssssss.
I have tried to explain to Hissy about polite kitty behavior, but the politics of cats is far more complicated than you might think.
It would seem that even if a cat is your mortal enemy, assuming you yourself are a cat in this scenario, than you absolutely MUST smell them. Jam your twitchy little nose against their neck as they greedily gobble food from what you secretly consider as YOUR food bowl, and then when they take offense to your actions.....You throw a hissy fit.
See, now what do you and I expect to happen if we run around sticking our noses against our enemies? Cats seem to have a selective memory, and none so much as Hissy, who always reacts in the most dramatic display of cattiness ever when his un-friends get annoyed by his behavior.
Poor Hissy....when will he learn? (I'm guessing never.)
If only Hissy could keep his nose to himself, but perhaps he's just checking. Sniffing to see if the other cats have quit smelling like an enemy yet....

character dimensions:
1.25" x 1" x .9"

Ignis Fatuus, Jack of the swamps.

Fri, 11 Dec 2009 18:00:13 -0500

$45.00
LOTS more photos of Ignis can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=jackolantern_ignis

Character Dimensions in Inches: 4.5 x 5 x 5.5

You've got to be brave to go visit an abandoned Jack O'Lantern like Ignis. The spooky eyed, grinning creature is daunting enough, but the travel makes it doubly goosebumpy.
Only at night will Ignis accept visitors, and only those who dare travel though the thickest woods that bar the way. Through brambles and slithery vines, crunching through frosty leaves that scatter the ground, their decaying numbers seeming to obscure any footprints you might otherwise leave behind.
Skeletal branches drag at your hair and clothes and you have to resist the urge to scream, or worse run. The last thing you need is to smack face first into a tree or stumble ahead, screeching, making all the creepy crawlies of a night time forest aware of your presence.
Ignis Fatuus doesn't actually live in the woods, as far as I can tell, but rather in a clearing where a swamp fights against the dense overgrowth of trees. Clearing a space for itself, a slow duel between stagnant waters and rotting stubborn branches. Neither force of nature will give, not the forest or the swamp so there they stand, stalemated for eternity with neither wood nor water giving up. This is where Ignis makes his home.
When ever I visit Ignis, I only go on nights with full moons. Ignis doesn't like flashlights, I don't like carrying torches into woods so we compromise. I shake in my boots and stumble half blind through the trees with only silvery cold moonlight to guide me and Ignis...well...I compromise.
When I near the clearing silverly light seems to glow just beyond the trees. That's how I know I'm close, the moonlight pours down into the swampy clearing and reflects back off the slick, slimy surface of the waters. While no where near daylight it's a welcome sight after the darkness of the trees.
The scent of mud and rotting things, of dead leaves and wet is something I've grown used to. I asked Ignis once how he could stand it, living here amongst the olfactory essence of decay. He just stared at me with hot, flickering eyes, mouth twisting into a grimace before muttering, "I like it here. I fit in here."
I get that. Ignis is no longer for the world of bright lights and artificial perfumes, candy and treats. Long since past his day of creation, his moment of Halloween glory and then...abandoned.....he's no longer the symbol of frivolity.
He's not pretty, his very being whispers of death.
Fat jolly pumpkins, pure and sweet and freshly carved, reminiscent of fall and pies and parties are not the same sweet things after Halloween. They change, they decay, their sides slump, their lights dim, their soot covered faces scare us in a whole new way than on Halloween night.
Ignis Fatuus didn't stop existing...the day after Halloween, but his whole life changed.
"For the better. If you ask me." He once grumbled. "I like it here, it's quiet, it feels.....right."
I stared at Ignis, surrounded by the murky swamp and bony branches and had to agree. His flickering eyes and mouth glowed bright in contrast to the cold moonlight. Eerie, at a distance his familiar Jack O'Lantern shape dissolves into the blackness of the night until all I can see are those bright eyes, seeming to hover just over the swamp. I'm not sure if tackling a visit to an abandoned Jack O'Lantern in the middle of a decaying swamp is fun..... but it's something you won't forget either.

LOTS more photos of Ignis can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=jackolantern_ignis

Character Dimensions in Inches: 4.5 x 5 x 5.5

Interesting Note: Ignis does NOT have a glow-in-the-dark eyes/mouth/nostrils but his eyes/mouth/nostrils are so bright that they show up spookily well even in low light!

Allura the Witch and a page from her diary

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 21:25:15 -0400

$35.00
LOTS more photos of Allura the witch ornament can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=witchball_allura

Character Dimensions in Inches: 3.5 x 3.25 x 3.5

Dear Diary,

The winds of change have swept through my little corner of the world. The valley sparkles with new life. Leaves burst from every branch, the streams run like silvery blue ribbons, reflecting a perfect sky. Flowers scent the air with the delicate perfume of spring...and yet....
And yet I am un-content. The world awakens and I wish nothing more than to feel the cold arms of Autumn's embrace once more around my shoulders. I want to feel the sting of Winter's promise upon my cheeks and smell the fires burning, smoke drifting lazily from my chimney once more. I wish for the crackle of leaves under foot and pungent herbs drying in the air.
I await the fall of summer with an anticipation I can no longer bear.
These summers bore me, an old woman such as my self wants nothing of humid days and scorching sun. I ache for the full moon, the cries of the owls who accompany me on my flights through star studded skies.
Eternal life is a long time, I will rest. I will slumber away this summer, tucking myself in a cocoon of protective charms. I will be as cozy as a cat by a fire on a cold winter's eve, surrounded by my powers, napping under a woven blanket of spells. I will pause my life and dream for a while. An inanimate shell of myself as the season slips by.
I'll dream about the apples glossy red upon the trees and my cauldron boiling hot with spiced ciders. A touch of glamour and a dash of hex stirred in, scented steam rising on the cold night air and enveloping me in it's timeless kiss of immortality.
Oh diary a witch's life is grand, and I will once more hunt for ingredients in the dark and gloomy forests, branches tugging at my skirts, broom at my side. But not now... Now I will suspend my very being and dream.
Dream away the summer until the stroke of midnight on Hallow's Eve when I'll awaken to join my sisters in the skies. Renewed. Reborn.

Innocuous hence forth I'll be
Ornamental as seasons fade
A round, asleep to some degree
Midnight ends the masquerade

Allura, Good Witch.

LOTS more photos of Allura the witch ornament can be seen at:
http://alittlecharacter.com/item.html?id=witchball_allura

Character Dimensions in Inches: 3.5 x 3.25 x 3.5

Charlie Chuckles the Jack-o-lantern

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 21:24:49 -0400

$18.00
Ya know, being an abandoned jack-o-lantern isn't all the doom and gloom it might first appear. Many jack-o-lanterns actually look forward to the day after Halloween, are eager to begin a new phase of their lives. To explore some new hobbies. I mean, jack-o-lanterns look handsome as can be, lining the walk way to a house, or sitting proudly on display in the middle of a table but I can't blame the little carved pumpkins for wanting more out of life. Table sitting doesn't fulfill a jack-o-lantern these days the way it did in the old days.
Charlie Chuckles, sometimes known as Chuck to his friends, was the most eager for a new career of any jack-o-lantern I have ever met!
He's a "Halloween, Schmalloween" kind of guy. Treat bags and cob webs barely hold his interest, not when prat falls, rubber chickens and knock knock jokes are so dang fascinating.
Charlie Chuckles has dreamed of being a comedian ever since he was a wee little pumpkin seed cuddled up in the dark, rich soil of the pumpkin patch. Is it fate he ended up with such a charmingly goofy smile and not a face full of ferocious pumpkin teeth? Maybe so. Perhaps the person who carved Charlie, bringing him to life knew this jack-o-lantern wasn't meant for scaring people but for giving them a belly laugh!

Character Dimensions:
2.5" x 2.25" x 2.5"

Moldy Milly the jack-o-lantern

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 21:24:49 -0400

$20.00
Oh the Magnificent Moldy Millicent!
Milly is a charming jack-o-lantern. Not the least bit annoyed about the whole "abandoned after October 31st" thing. She doesn't mind that she's had to make her way out of the compost pile to join the great unknown with all the neighboring jack-o-lanterns. She's got a positive outlook on life that gal.
Lots of times I can't help but ask her, "How can you be so dang cheerful Milly? You're sure some of that green mold isn't green envy?"
She giggles, she thinks I'm joking. But the question was a serious one. Here she is, wobbling about this great big world of ours, slowly molding a delicate shade of grey green and she's...happy? Not the least bit angry, resentful or harboring even the tiniest spark of revenge in her pumpkin heart?
Nope.
Apparently not. She is living life and loving every minute of it. None of this moping about for Milly. She says she has no time to spare for moping, not when there's so many flowers to sniff, so many patches of grass to wiggle in, so many stars to watch blink on at night. Sparkling the sky overhead.
Ahhh, Milly. I think I know why you're so magnificent. That glow in your eyes...it's not all candle is it?

Character Dimensions:
2" x 1.75" x 3"

Moldy Milly can be displayed sitting or hanging!
(NOT REAL MOLD, haha)

Stogie the jack-o-lantern

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 21:24:49 -0400

$20.00
Ol' Stogie, the abandoned jack-o-lantern, could care less about being dumped after Halloween. A guy like him, abandonment rolls right off his back. Course, a guy like him, un-abandonment (if there is such a thing) rolls right off his back too. Stogie's the sort of guy who should star in his own western movie. The sort of guy who mutters through clenched teeth, talking outta the corner of his mouth, spitting words like they were nails.
That's Stogie, yep, he's a character all right, some might even say he's a curmudgeon...NOT ME! I'm just saying SOME people might consider Stogie to be a bit on the gruff and cranky side. But hey, that's fine, how would we ever recognize light and fluffy cheerfulness if there was no cantankerous old crankiness to compare it to? You know, like how there's no light without dark....
But I'm thinking there's more to Stogie than just his sand paper like personality...after all if he really was such a crank-pot why does he continue to hang out with other abandoned jack-o-lanterns? Hmmm...... Perhaps he enjoys their company, despite his inability to express himself without glaring.

Character Dimensions: 3" x 3" x 3"
Stogie can be displayed hanging or sitting, he's just as cranky looking either way.

Spooky Scarecrow

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 21:24:49 -0400

$20.00
Character Dimensions:
Not including arm span: 1.5" x 2" x 4"
Arm span: 5"

Townies drive a little extra carefully on Avondale road. It's a necessary strip of dirt, cutting straight through an old growth, decaying forest. It's not the trees that lead to white knuckled grips on steering wheels. It's not the skeletal branches, long since bare of needle or leaves that cause pulses to flutter. Not even the shadows beneath, with hints of glowing eyes.
It's the abandoned farmland just beyond.
One small acre of dirt. Dug out of the middle of nowhere, cleared of trees by some enterprising young farmer, lovingly tilled and hoed and sowed until his back and bank account ached from the strain. And nothing but dirt and heart ache to show for it all.
Or so they say.
How much truth resides in the stories passed around campfires late at night through marshmallow sticky lips is hard to say.
But there is such a field, and one lone thing stands on the small mound in the middle. Watching, with eerily alive eyes, the Townies that drive by. Parents stare straight ahead while their children flatten noses against the car windows and insist they saw it move.
Parents shake their heads in denial, eyes flicking from the road curving ahead to the field in the rear view mirror, and the lone figure that watches them go. If it moved, and they'll swear it did, they comfort themselves with explanations of wind and birds and curious field mice. The sort of thing from a fairy tale, but it's nightmares they'll have that night.
They say it was the farmer's last attempt at proper farming the old way. A scarecrow, constructed of bits of this and that. A sure fire way to guard his seeds, though it never made any difference. That land never grew anything since it's trees were taken.
Some say it's the farmer himself. Gone mad, feet planted in lifeless mud, tattered clothes to match his tattered mind. Refusing to give up. Waiting for his crops to grow.
A silly notion.....but still. The Townies flick nervous glances at the shadowy figure on the hill and wonder if it was the wind, a trick of the light, or did it's head actually turn and stare with cold knowing eyes?
A scarecrow, a simple farmer's trick. Forever guarding it's lifeless plot of land.

Character Dimensions:
Not including arm span: 1.5" x 2" x 4"
Arm span: 5"

Tiny Tim the abandoned jack-o-lantern

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 21:54:53 -0400

$14.00
Teeny tiny Timothy Smitty, Tiny Tim to some friends and Itty Bitty Smitty to others (what is it with friends always renaming you?) well anyways he's the littlelest abandoned jack-o-lantern I've run across yet!
I can't help but wonder if his diminutive size is because he was plucked from the patch too early or because he's actually a miniature pumpkin? Well what ever you do don't point out his lack of vertical-ness to him, besides the fact he's well aware of how he measures up to other pumpkins, Tiny Tim insists he's one of those mammoth gigantic pumpkin breeds.....uh...huh.
Tiny Tim has argued the point until he's as blue in the face as an abandoned jack-o-lantern can get, going on and on and on...and on....about how he's descendent from a 2000 lb King size pumpkin that won 14 blue ribbons for heavy weight champion of the pumpkin world and one pink ribbon for "not too pale"
(Those big giant award winning pumpkins are surely not known for their bright orange pumpkin colors, so it doesn't take much to win a ribbon in this category, no offense to Tiny Tims' alleged ancestor)
Well no matter what size Itty bitty Smitty is, his personality is as big as they come. I wonder if he's compensating for his lack of girth with words? Cause boy howdy that jack-o-lantern could talk the bark off the trees!
Should you hear an odd sort of yammering sound, an endless droning string of words punctuated by excited "AM TOO A KING SIZED PUMPKIN", you can be sure, it's probably just Itty Bitty Timothy Smitty.

Character Dimensions:
2" x 1.75" x 1.5"

Tiny Tim can be displayed sitting or hanging!

Fanny the little witch wannabe

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 20:28:59 -0400

$18.00
NOTE: Fanny's wings are more iridescent in real life than what the camera can depict. :)

Character Dimensions:
Including wingspan: 1.5" x 2.75" x 3.25"

Bottoms up! Tis the season for Hag-lets to appear. Witches in training, little fairies who have shunned the forests and the fields in favor of caves and cauldrons.
Fanny is one of the newest Hag-lets to join the witchy ways of Sorcerers and spell casters. Ever since she can remember she's wanted nothing more than to don a pointy hat and sail about the skies under full moons cackling loudly into the night along with the other full fledged witches.
It was not completely unheard of among the fairy kind for young fairies to entertain the notion of pursuing a witchy career. Though few of them actually followed it through, but Fanny had known for as long as she could remember that the witchy ways were for her. Had felt a joy and light in her heart since imagining herself in the skies with the witches, brooms and toads and foggy nights called to her the way rainbows and butterflies did for the other fairies. There was nothing wrong with butterflies Fanny thought, they just didn't have the cuddly wuddly furry bodied appeal of a good ol' bat. And besides, there were plenty of fairies to follow the butterflies about, the bats and mosquitos and other, less pretty parts of nature, needed love and attention as much as the next. And the witches let no ugly bug go un-noticed, no swamp un-explored, no foggy day ignored, no yawning cave un-attended. Just thinking about the possibility of cave exploration in the future with her hopefully, soon to be witchy pals, gave Fanny goosebumps, green goosebumps.
She'd read everything she could find about witches and their ways. When the other fairies were making flowers grow and harvesting dew drops Fanny preferred to befriend bats and practice her cackle. When the other fairies flitted beneath sparkling enchanted water falls Fanny preferred the deep mysterious swamps that witches were known to hang out at. Happily splashing green slimy swamp water all over herself until she'd permanently become the loveliest shade of green. In her own opinion at least, the other fairies didn't seem to think swamp toned skin was all that fantastic. Fine by Fanny, that left more oozy, juicy, brilliant green swamp scum for her!
All Hallow's Eve was fast approaching and Fanny was sure this going to be her year to join the Witches in their annual sky parade. Some of them flew by on broom sticks, others by the aid of bats but Fanny was going to use her enchanted hat. It had taken quite a bit of spell casting, potion making and enchanting to turn an ordinary hat into the perfect Hag-let head apparel. Tall and pointy was a must but shimmering wings that carried it high into star filled skies at night were Fanny's own personal touch. But the thing Fanny was absolutely proudest of, the thing she was sure would cinch her inclusion in the witches parade, was the grabby spell she'd conjured. A special bit of fairy magic that she wove into the very fabric of her hat, ensuring that when she wore it the hat grabbed on to her so she didn't fall out when taking to the skies. It had been a bit of a bumpy and bruisy process perfecting that bit of Magic but once she'd had the right combination of toad spit and lemon peel everything had been swell!
Even her fairy friends and relatives had been impressed with Fanny's flying hat with magical wings and had insisted she teach them how to enchant their own clothing. While none of them had the desire to fly in the witches parade Fanny could see the practical applications of flying clothing when it came to laundry day. Just sit back and relax and let your shirts fly in and out of the waterfall until sparkling clean. Not that you'd ever find Fanny wearing anything, not when she was sporting her enchanted hat she'd worked so hard on. Not so long as she had the perfectly green skin from sweet swampy waters. And certainly not with the possibility of a witchy parade in her future. Because Fanny knew if she was part of the festivities this year there was no way between her awesome hat and green skin that there'd be only one full moon in the sky......

NOTE: Fanny's wings are more iridescent in real life than what the camera can depict. :)
Character Dimensions:
Including wingspan: 1.5" x 2.75" x 3.25"

Junior the leftover jackolantern

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 20:28:59 -0400

$16.00
Junior is such a big baby.
No, really. He's a baby pumpkin, that just happens to be a little on the plump side compared to others in his age group and variety.
Junior was never a planned pumpkin, he's...well....he's sort of an accident. The farmer was planting squash and some how or another a pumpkin seed got mixed in with them. Junior was a surprise to every one come squash harvesting time.
The farmer would have left him to grow bigger had he seen him but before you can say "Happy Halloween" Junior was picked!
After Halloween, like most jackolanterns, Junior was left with out a home. No worries though, he met up with a few friends in the same predicament from neighboring houses and learned about life after October 31st.
Junior's favorite things include fireworks (ya should have heard all the oohing and awwing outta this fellow on New Year's Eve), cats (cause they're soft and rub up against him, or stare deep into his own un-blinking eyes, he feels a kinship with cats) and stars. Junior says stars are just like fireworks...but much "still-er". (his words)

Junior is shown in one of the photos with his *family*, Big Bertha and Rudolph. They are sold separately.

Junior can be displayed hanging (ribbon included) or sitting, He's gorgeous either way.

Junior's dimensions:
2.25" x 1.75" x 2"

Want to see another abandoned jack-o-lantern?
Check out Peter.....
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=13703311

Ghost of a JackOLantern

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 20:28:58 -0400

$18.00
Character Dimensions:
Just Body, not including wings: 1.5" x 1.5" x 3"
Wingspan: 5"

Is there anything more mind numbingly frightening than a ghost? A wispy shade of a former being, haunting the old dilapidated house on the hill? Or the translucent essence of some one, wandering, a lost soul clinging to our physical realm?
Now what if the ghost, the spirit in question is not just any ghost? But all that remains of the very symbol of our eeriest holiday.
All Hallow's Eve, the night when goblins and witches gorge upon candy, when every patio and doorstep is guarded by grinning faces carved into pumpkins. Altering the innocent orange vegetable into it's alter ego, the jack-o-lantern.
After Halloween jack-o-lantern's are forgotten.
I myself have carried my share of the fellows to my own mother's compost pile. A belly full of caramels and mini chocolate bars and the face I so carefully created just a few days before already fades from my mind. Hardly a memory.
In the cases of Junior, Peter and even Mydgreel, these abandoned jack-o-lanterns go on to create whole new lives for themselves. Lives that extend past the 31st of October....but for a few un-lucky ones. The ones who didn't escape the inevitable conclusion of a compost heap....they cease...in this world.
Where the jack-o-lantern ends here, they are welcomed with open arms in Twilight. Born into the world that borders our very dreams. The place just at the edges of our minds, where imagination draws upon for it's endless source of night time amusements.
Our sun never reaches Twilight, the mysterious lands that are always in shadow, dim, grey but not with out joy. In fact there is great joy there. As the inhabitants of Twilight, the strange beings like Nika and Gloam, rejoice when the the very essence of a jack-o-lanterns leaves our world and enters their's. In a way, the day a jack-o-lantern ceases here...it's born there. A great celebration is had when someone like Hugo arrives. He is granted wings, somewhere between our world and Twilight. Though that part is fuzzy and hard to remember for a simple minded jack-o-lantern like Hugo. And why should he think about all that, when he can flutter about with freedom and ease he has never known before. Visiting the residents of Twilight, regaling them with stories of our world, learning of the new ways and customs there.
It's quite an adventure for a country bumpkin pumpkin turned jack-o-lantern turned ghostly spirit turned inhabitant of Twilight....quite an adventure.

Character Dimensions:
Just Body, not including wings: 1.5" x 1.5" x 3"
Wingspan: 5"

Other Jack-O-Lanterns:
Mydgreel: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=15138961
Peter: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=13703311
Junior: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=14045652

Resident of Twilight:
Nika: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=14389801

Albert the Zombie

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 20:28:58 -0400

$14.00
He's got a magnetic personality!
Favorite Pastimes: Shuffling up the street with his hungry pals.
Favorite Food: Brains. Albert especially craves a high IQ mental muscle for his meal....
Dislikes: Buckshot, sunrises and wailing sirens.

Backed with a 3/4" magnet, Albert sticks on your fridge, magnetic messageboard, metal doorframe or toolbox...where ever a little un-dead decor is needed. Hold down your grocery lists with a touch
of decaying elegance.

Albert is handsculpted.

Dimensions: 1.25" x 1.25"