Illustration by annesleypants
MattConley (Community Director) writes:
I think this could be remixed in a lot of different ways. The book could be changed to be any number of things, which could potentially alter the entire perception of the illustration. Or additional animals could be added (or the existing ones could be changed or revised.) Text would also be great for this. Or this could become a short animated sequence?
Video by Ryan Patrick
Audio REsource by Wimbledon Manic Depressives aka WMD
Visual REsources by brookeduckart
Illustration by Jazminny
Text REsource by Metaphorest
Text REsource by Metaphorest:
“I’m stuffed!” said the fox
"I’m aware,” said the hare
“For I watched the strange process myself
He yanked out your guts
And replaced them with dust
And put you up there on the shelf”
“Don’t be cruel,” said the pheasant
“You know it’s not pleasant
To wake up and find oneself dead
Immune to decay
In an unearthly way
No brains in your hollowed-out head”
“To be sure,” said the ferret
“Although there’s some merit
In being direct from the start
Fact is, you’re a shell
And we are as well
All mummies with no brains or heart”
Fox was glum, so owl cried
“Look on the bright side
There’s no need to be so bereft”
“I can’t see it,” fox sighed,
“Cause I’m missing an eye
The bright side must be on the left”
CALLING ALL WRITERS: Check out brookeduckart’s album of Taxidermied Animal photos & start creating some stories based on these crazy creatures.
Some points to consider: What’s going on in their souls? / What were their final thoughts? / Does the taxidermist have a story?
Music by joerud
In finding this specific musical riff, I envisioned what I believe foxes are up to when they’re not scurrying away from supposedly hearty human beings.
Despite the wet darkness and the slightly unwelcome feeling of the gardens, the fox cub catches a glimpse of the feather, drifting steadily a mere few inches above his reach. But a healthy leap will be all that’s needed.
It was enough, and for a moment, the cub felt an incomparable softness, and with the softness, an equally strong desire. The feather wildly scattered itself lower, towards the mesmerised fox’s face, until landing between his eyes. He closed them and the feeling intensified, but, within seconds, vanished as the feather was once again riding the night’s gust. The fox began to sprint across the garden in search for the feather and the feeling. It was dark, but his eyes were fast and sharp, he spots the feather cutting through the dim light of a window lamp.
But the cub’s hopeful eyes were lost when rain fell fast and an early morning light chased the feather past the trees and into the day.