InkCuenTober - 2018 collaborative work with Guillaume Babin

Hello Lovelies!

This year Guillaume Babin and I participated in InkTober and CuenTober and created the collaborative work InkCuenTober! We had a lot of fun with both of the challenges and putting this book together. 

Below are pictures of the book and a selection of the stories and artwork.

Cover - InkCuenTober stories by Raely Marie and art by Guillaumbe Babin

What is InkTober, you ask?

InkTober was an online drawing challenge created by Jake Parker back in 2009 where he released a word a day during the month of October and challenged artists to draw something based on that word. The challenge has become increasingly popular with more and more artists participating every year on Instagram.

What about that CuenTober?

CuenTober is a spin on InkTober created and translated into Spanish by José Luis Zárate in 2018 in which he challenged writers to write a short story or cuento based on the InkTober words.

The black and white and color versions of InkCuenTober

What is the InkCuenTober mashup?

Guillaume and Raely Marie’s take on InkTober and CuenTober. The artist and writer transformed the two challenges, blending them together into a beautiful collection of 31 illustrations and short short stories titled InkCuenTober.

This is the first drawing that started off the InkTober 2018 challenge.

I surprised Guillaume by reposting his drawing with this story: 

La venenosa verdad

Emergió del líquido venenoso, listo compartir con el mundo lo que descubrió abajo. Pero, por el olor fatal que emitía, nadie le escuchó y el mundo se liquidó en seguida.

The Venomous Truth

He emerged from the toxic liquid, ready to share with the world what he discovered down under. But, because of the stench of his putrid body, no one got near enough to listen, and the world liquidated shortly after. 

Why are some stories in English, others in Spanish, and one in French?

Well, Guillaume and Raely Marie met in Spain in 2011 and speak English, Spanish and French fluently. The artist and writer enjoy working in all three languages and chose to keep the stories in their original forms for your enjoyment.

Some of my favorite drawings and stories: 

Gift

The Perfect Gift

He was so romantic, it was cheesy. 

Guarded

The Great Kingdom Carlos XIX

Carlitos hired the Guardia de Penguinos – Skipper, Kowalski, Rico and three new recruits who specialized in distracting humans with their intricate dancing – the respected assassins of the Tsar of 86, to protect his thrown.

The thrown was on the only land in the kingdom that remained, and it was the exact spot in which his grandfather’s grandfather had made his stand against the Snow People of 104.

Carlitos, desperate to make his own stand, remained on his thrown until the Great Freeze, which restored the land to its original glory.

Unfortunately, as Carlitos had never left his post, there was no heir to the thrown and, after his death, the Guardia de Penguinos converted the land into a lucrative ecotourist location – The Grand GDP.

Whale

Whale Rides

Frank's favorite way to get to work was on the back of Luther. Luther never seemed to mind the company, the two had become good friends over the years and he was happy to drop Frank off. The only problem was that migration season only came once a year, so Frank was often late to work. 

Chicken 

Orgullo

Cruzó la calle y se fue al infierno porque le parecía que así se convertiría en un pollo asado perfecto para la navidad y que por fin haría feliz a su madre.

Pride

He crossed the road and entered hell because it seemed like the best and easiest way to become a perfectly roasted chicken for Christmas and finally make his mother proud. 

Bottle

Lost at Sea

He stared into the bottle and at Robinson Crusoe on the miniature raft floating in the water. He wondered how he was going to help him escape, but more importantly was concerned about how in the world he had gotten into the bottle in the first place.

He looked up and around and couldn’t help but wonder if he was in a bottle somewhere, in the hands of another little boy. 

Expensive

Giovanni

She loved having someone to go out with, but she never imagined it would cost her so much. She found herself working a second job just to pay for Giovanni's expensive tastes. He preferred high-quality clothing, he said they fit better. He would only go to high-end restaurants because he said he was "made that way."

When she first found Giovanni online, she never imagined that he would be more expensive to keep than the initial purchase.

After three months, she decided she couldn't afford to keep him and called A.I.Boyfriend's customer service. They wouldn't refund her money, but worse, they refused to take him back on account that the Giovanni model was "too much to handle" and their resale value was next to nothing.

The next morning, she dropped Giovanni off at the airport and wished him the best.

The last thing she heard him say was, "I only fly first class."

The back cover of InkCuenTober stories by Raely Marie and art by Guillaume Babin

If you would like to purchase the book, purchase prints of the art, or are interested in collaborating with us, please email us at InkCuenTober@gmail.com. 

You can also check out Guillaume's artwork on Instagram at Gabachogui and see my life updates, stories and posts on Instagram at Reili333.

I am working on a new project that should be out soon - keep your eyes and ears open!

Loves,

Raely Marie

Void

I lost you in the darkness

I saw you slip through my fingers

and I knew that I’d never see you again.

You were a strong and beautiful woman,

careless and at ease.

Every night, we’d talk about the future

excitement in our eyes.

But one day, I didn’t smile back at you

I was trapped in a disease.

Life was drained out of me

by two heavy hands.

The darkness entered

as the light drained out.

My breath weakened

and fear crept in.

I grew frail and tired,

scared and weak.

I couldn’t shake the sickness

He followed me everywhere.

Sleepless nights and hot showers

did not rid me of him.

You tried to reach out to me,

But I shut you out.

I cried in silence,

hoping you’d keep trying.

But all that was left,

was a shell of who we used to be.

You are my past,

I am your future.

But who am I now, if not you?

And who are you, if not me?

If only I could reach back

and bring you here.

Erase the scars of time

and start over again.

He took me from you,

and I lost myself.

When I look in the mirror,

I am someone else.

......
Piece was submitted to and written for a Prose Challenge #theProse #ProseChallenge #itslit https://theprose.com/post/157046/void 

My Sorry Song

Calla Lillies

I’m sorry…

…that I couldn’t stay.

…that he had to have his say.

…that no one understood,

that I had to run away.

I’m sorry…

…I never told you.

…I never turned him in.

…I didn’t know the difference,

of letting someone in.

I’m sorry…

…that now you’re suffering.

…that no one there is buffering.

…that now you understand,

the excuses and the lying.

I’m sorry…

…I wasn’t stronger.

…I couldn’t hold your hand.

…I needed to find my own way,

back to never never land.  

I’m sorry…

…that now I’m gone.

…that I can’t sing you the song,

that kept you safe,

from all this wrong.

And I’m sorry…

…I just couldn’t go on.  

Be strong,

my little one. 

The Last Purse

I learned a valuable lesson that October day. I was 11 years old and it was the first and last day that I carried a purse.

I was never one for purses, I was more of a tom-boy kinda kid, but when my grandma got me one for Christmas and I had a couple dollars saved up in allowance, I thought – you know what, basketball shorts don’t have pockets, this purse can hold all my stuff. Yes, all my stuff. My $4.82, my cherry chap stick, a pack of Wrigley’s Big Red gum, a home-made scrunchy my mom had made me, and one of those annoying bouncy balls you could buy for 25₵, oh, and a toothpick. I didn’t even have a Walkman yet. If there is one thing certain about me, it’s that I was a 90s kid. 

But I remember that day very clearly. Sitting at the pizzeria, eating pepperoni pizza with my mom and grandma and probably a few cousins – the cousins were always around. I had to go to the bathroom, and, as I was old enough, I could go by myself. I asked my mom to watch my purse – with all its valuable contents – and headed to the back of the restaurant. 

When I came back, I sat down and finished eating my pizza. I was young, it was the first day that I had ever taken a purse anywhere, and so, I didn’t notice that it was missing until we were getting ready to leave the restaurant. I think my grandma had given me a dollar to put in my brand-new wallet, the one that matched my purse, but when I went to add my dollar to my fortune, the purse was gone. 

I looked everywhere; under the table, behind my brother, in the bathroom – I hadn’t taken it in there, had I? – and finally I remembered, I had asked my mom to watch it for me. 

“Where’s my purse, mom?”

“I don’t know. You shouldn’t have left it on the table. No one is responsible for your stuff but you.”

I was upset, my savings of $4.82 had dropped significantly. Down to $1 dollar to be exact. I was mad too, my mom was supposed to watch my purse for me and she didn’t. Or so I thought. 

Crying and throwing hissy fits was not my thing; I wasn’t really “that kind of girl.” I didn’t react to things like that, I tended to bottle things up inside and fester. I loved festering. All your emotions just build and build inside of you until they are so strong that they take over you and you don’t know what you’re capable of. It was exciting, exhilarating, crazy, and fun. 

But more than that, I was really mad at my mom. 

Right before we got home, my mom took my purse out of her backpack and handed it to me. 

“Here’s your purse. Never ask anyone to take care of your things for you, they are your responsibility and no one is going to care about your stuff as much as you do.”

I took the purse and stared at my mom. Really? I couldn’t even ask my mom to watch my stuff? 

I learned two things that day. 

1. I hate purses.
2. You can’t trust anyone. Not even your mom. 

Parejas repartidas

A mí me encantan los calcetines nuevos y mi familia lo sabe, por eso me regalan calcetines cada Navidad. No es un regalo malo, ni un regalo “práctico” como dice la tía Dulce cada año cuando les regala calcetines a todos. Ellos no son unos aficionados de los calcetines como yo. Les molesta mucho recibirlos y hasta yo sospecho que es porque ella es tacaña.

Un año mi padre me compró unos calcetines mix-match, muy bonitos, de colores vibrantes, que hacían juego, pero no eran iguales. No había pares de calcetines, había pesadillas de dos en dos. Pero claro, como buena hija quería dar gusto a mi padre y que no me creía malagradecida me los puse. No podía dejar de pensar en que mis calcetines no eran iguales, estaban separados, y sus parejas estaban en otras cajas, en otros pies, en otro lugar ajeno.

Los que me encontraron muerta, me criticaban por ser tan desorganizada y llevar calcetines mix-match, como una típica mujer estadounidense.

Les miro desde el cielo y me pregunto si mi padre se arrepentirá de haberme comprado esos calcetines que me llevaron a esa muerte inesperada. Si no hubiera estado pensando en esos calcetines, a lo mejor, no hubiera cruzado la calle así, sin mirar, pensando en dónde podría estar la pareja de mi calcetín derecho y si se estaban conviviendo bien los dos calcetines impares, o si extrañaban mucho a sus parejas o si se odiaban como yo los odiaba.

Yo no me arrepiento de haber hecho feliz a mi padre ese año. De todos modos, él estará aquí conmigo muy pronto, ya que, justo la mañana que morí, le regalé unas herramientas muy bonitas, un trinquete del sistema imperial y unos sockets del sistema métrico.

dedicado a Raquel Castro 

Blood Ink

image from minutestocountdown.deviantart.com

You can only fold a paper

seven times they say,

but I must have read your letter

a thousand times a day,

until I finally realized

the ink had dried away.

It bled into my hands

and ate away my soul,

until I cried black

and fell into a hole.

The abyss was vast and deep

the feelings began to creep,

until I remembered why

I chose to let you die.

And as I write the letter

the words they come out pink

for only assassin’s blood

can be used for contract ink. 

Mar's Bar

I drink a cocktail of moonlight in this lone bar of Mars. I quickly glance at my wrist to check my messages, and though I know that 40 minutes will pass between each line of conversation, I hope that you will reply before your bedtime. Everyone in the colony is lonely and lost, tired and disillusioned; coming here was a grave mistake. We all knew that now. 

If the possibility of return was minimal before, it was close to none now. The attempt to create a sustainable food source was proving to be difficult. Luckily we had a life supply of Tang that had been sent long before anyone had dreamed of actually transporting life to this red planet. I personally didn’t mind, the strange orange flavor reminded me of my grandfather and his obsession with his childhood favorites from the 70s. He even found a few old videos that had survived the Metallic Freeze and had us watch them, laughing hysterically. If I had known that I’d be drinking the strange Moon people’s drink on Mars, I might have laughed too. 

“Sometimes I wonder if there’s intelligent life on that planet.” 

I wonder that too Orange Man, I wonder that too. 

Twenty-three minutes passed and I received a purple check-mark on my message board; your phone received the message, but was currently in sleep mode. I imagined you in bed, three times the weight, but triple the comfort and softness of our rotting cots. I knew that life would not be glamorous here, but I had expected to feel more glory upon my arrival – to feel… more like a hero to mankind. Instead the monotony of raising plants designed to flourish on florescent light, artificial air, and electrolytes, were proving just as limp as my conscience. 

I never should have left you. I thought to myself as I downed the rest of my drink, glancing through the telescope at the life I left behind. 


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PS. If you want to see the Tang commercial referenced in this story, here's the link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wf1kw5Yp9Ck  

As always thanks for reading. 

Until next time lovelies,
Raely Marie


Written for the #Nightdwellers #ProseChallenge #beginningline
Original post at https://theprose.com/post/139668/mar-s-bar
Write a piece of literature with the beginning line ‘I DRINK A COCKTAIL OF MOONLIGHT…’ Tag it #nightdwellers #beginningline. http://www.facebook.com/groups/NightdwellersWrites/